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jupitercomet · 2 years

Text

Close to Where Your Feet Pass

summary - Getting married was supposed to be the best day of your life, the day you promised to spend forever with the person you loved. Though you knew very little about love, you’d always been excited for it, playing dress up with your sisters and dreaming of the day you would know love like the back of your hand. Now you were finally getting married and you knew two things for certain: you knew nothing of love and Bradley Bradshaw did not love you.

warnings - arranged marriage au, heavily inspired by Greta Gerwig’s Little Women because that movie has a choke hold on me, angst, gender stereotypes, somewhat toxic family, Bradley’s a fucking simp, brief threats of violence, mentions of drowning, I got overly excited and included dress links but you can picture whatever outfit your heart desires :)

word count - 3.6k

je te laisserai des mots masterlist

Bradley could remember very little of his parents’ love. He remembered kisses on cheeks and declarations of adoration whenever one of them left the house. Occasionally, he remembered them dancing at parties or singing at the piano. Mostly, though, he remembered their terms of endearment.

Whether it was his father, who used words like “sweetheart” or “beloved” with a beamish grin, or his mother, shaking her head at his antics with a lovesome smile and calling him “goose”. Bradley was never quite sure why she called his father that— other than she loved him. If he had ever been informed of its origins, it was long forgotten by now.

Bradley looked up from his breakfast suddenly, so lost in his own head that the tensions at the table didn’t register. Breakfast was now an uncomfortable affair between him and your sisters. Usually he was only eating with one of them — this morning it was Edith — the other staying with you. It was mutually understood that they would all eat in silence. Which Bradley would have remembered, had he not been so deep in his thoughts.

“What do you call Robert?”

Edith stilled, lips parted and spoon halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

Bradley pushed down on his knuckles nervously. “When you’re— When you speak with him, do you call him anything other than his name?”

His parents had called each other terms of endearment— Pete and Penny used them more often than they used the other’s actual name. But Bradley had never called anyone something so sweet, it never made sense with Charlie. He had never felt so inclined as to call her anything other than her nickname, perhaps “Miss Simpson” if he was teasing.

How did one know what to call another? How does one know to call them anything at all?

Edith eyed him suspiciously. “Bob,” she answered finally. “Or ‘love’. Why? What term do you use? Mrs. Bradshaw?”

The words struck him, though he knew they were justified, and he winced. What term did he use for you? Not many, perhaps “Lady Simpson” once upon a time— but that was no good because you were not a Simpson anymore.

He looked down at his food. How long had it been since he called you “Lady Simpson”? He remembered the way your eyes lit up like comets the first time he did. Bradley was sure you hadn’t noticed it — your excitement — but he couldn’t help but want to call you it again and again.

“Why?”

Edith raised her eyebrows.

“Why do you call him ‘love’?” He clarified.

Edith looked at him, as though trying to read him like he was a book in a language she didn’t understand. She was searching for something in his expression, though he hadn’t the faintest idea if she had found it or not.

“Because he is,” she said simply.

Edith’s words lingered in Bradley’s mind as he made his way to your door that evening. Dropping a cushion to the floor — he’d learned quite quickly that the hardwood tended to be unforgiving — he looked down at the novel in his hands.

He’d started bringing books some time around the third night, realizing that most poems did not last the amount of time he stayed sat outside your door. Currently, he was reading your copy of The Phoenix’s Song, smiling fondly at your hastily scribbled notes in the margins, tracing the slight etchings you’d left on the pages.

Bradley swallowed. Edith called Robert “love” because he was and Pete called Penny “dear” because that’s what she was as well. Perhaps he should call you what he already knew that you were.

“Hello… darling,” he let out a breath, letting the back of his head thump against the wall.

“This is,” and suddenly the book was forgotten, his own thoughts taking the forefront instead, “difficult. Though I imagine this is what you must have felt like most days.”

The wind picked up outside, rattling branches against the side of the house. Bradley made note to check with the staff that they were tending to your fire properly.

“I miss you,” he admitted quietly, the words hanging in the candle lit hallway like lightning bugs. “And not in a way that I’ve ever missed anyone before you.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea as to what that means?” He chuckled softly.

Quieting from his laughter, Bradley let out a light sigh before he continued his ramblings into the quiet hours of the evening.

“I’ve been thinking of you, darling,” it came a bit more naturally this time, “of the things that bring you joy. I know that I have not been one of those things. But I would like to be. I was thinking—”

He sniffed.

“I was thinking we could go to Paris? It’s pretty in the spring. Only if that pleases you, of course. We own an estate over there— there would be numerous beautiful things for you to paint. Would you like to go to Paris? You could always go without me, if that would be easier for you.”

The idea pained him, constricted at his very heart. But he still felt the need to voice it, it was only fair.

“I don’t quite understand what I’m feeling anymore. And I’m sorry that it caused you so much pain, darling. But I think— I think I’m more frightened of these feelings ever ceasing than I am of the feelings themselves.” Bradley sucked in a breath. “I just hope you’ll grant me the privilege of explaining this all to you.”

And then it was quiet as Bradley thought.

He fiddled with his thumb, saying his next words as though he were only understanding them the moment they passed his lip. “Because, even if you despise me, I don’t believe there is anything that will ever make me feel any differently about you.”

The grandfather clock at the end of the hall ticked and Bradley knew that soon the hall would be filled with the back and forth steps of your sisters and the doctor, and he would be overstaying his welcome. He quietly got up from the floor.

“Goodnight, dove.” The endearment rolled off his tongue instinctively.

“Sir Bradshaw of Macadamia—”

Bradley let out a snort. “‘Macadamia’? Like the nut?”

Charlie scoffed. “Would you stop interrupting me? I am trying to knight you.”

“Oh,” Bradley dropped his head back down, hiding his grin as he rested on one knee before her. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Simpson. Please, continue.”

“That’s King Simpson to you,” Charlie jutted out her chin, raising the long stick at her side. “Now then, I, King Charlie Simpson, hereby dub thee Sir Bradshaw the Mighty, may your courage and devotion become a shining example to the people of the Kingdom.”

The weight of her stick tapped both Bradley’s shoulders lightly.

“You may rise.”

Bradley did so, a bit more thoughtfully.

Was he really all that mighty? He wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he might have been once, when he was a child, slaying monsters under the bed with his father and boasting of fighting bears in the snow to his mother. But he had not felt that might in a rather long time.

“Ooh, do me next! Do me! Do me!”

“Alright, alright, Rosie,” Charlie laughed and Bradley could no longer bring himself to interrupt them to voice his confusion. Besides, he was almost positive Rosaline would have launched herself at him like a hissing house cat if he prolonged her turn any longer.

“I hereby dub thee—”

“No, no, do it seriously. Like you did Bradley’s.”

Charlie laughed. “Don’t be so haughty to your king. Or I will dub you Sir Rosie the Toad-like!”

Their words, and the laughter that followed, drifted from Bradley’s ears as the two sisters ran around the garden. He took in the blue, cloudless skies and green hills of flowers surrounding him. The day was lovely, sunnier than it had been in a very long time, and Charlie had insisted that it was ideal weather for an adventure.

“The wind is perfect for a day at sea!” And Bradley had laughed fondly, for he knew she knew nothing of boats.

So the morning was devoted to being pirates, hunting for treasure and fighting elaborate sword fights because “You betrayed me, you scoundrel!” before Mrs. Simpson called from the back entry way that lunch had been prepared.

They all ate quickly, Rosaline animatedly explaining to you and Edith — who had spent your morning getting dress measurements with your mother — how much treasure they all had found.

“And you’ll never believe it,” Rosaline boasted proudly. “I found a three-leaf clover!”

Charlie snorted into her food and Mrs. Simpson sent her a silent glare. “It’s the ones with four leaves that are rare, Rosie. Anyone can find a three-leaf clover.”

“Oh,” Rosaline deflated, looking down at her soup dejectedly.

“Do you have it with you, Rosie?” Your voice carried from the opposite end of the table suddenly and, truthfully, Bradley had almost forgotten you were there.

Rosaline nodded, scrambling to find it in her small draw-string bag, as you pulled a pencil from where it was pinning up your hair and a page from the stack of them you’d left on a shelf near the table before sitting. Finally having found it, Rosaline held the clover by its stem and presented it to you.

Quickly, wordlessly, your pencil danced across the paper in confident lines and shading. Your tongue slightly peeked through your lips as you looked from the clover to your drawing repeatedly, your concentrated hand never stopping.

“There,” you held the paper up for Rosaline to see. “Now you can say your clover is the only clover to ever have its portrait done.”

After lunch, Robert came for Edith, the two of them leaving to spend the afternoon together, and suddenly pirates were no fun because “Pirates don’t ride horses, Charlie. I want to ride horses!” and “Alright, fine. The weather’s nice enough to be knights now anyway.”

You’d found a shady spot in the grass, drawing contentedly as the afternoon breeze cooled your skin. Bradley smiled softly, inviting himself to sit down next to you.

You looked up from your doodle at the sudden rustling. “Hello, Bradley.”

“‘M not Bradley anymore,” he nudged your shoulder lightly with his own. “You’re looking at the newly dubbed Sir Bradshaw the Mighty.”

You laughed quietly. “I don’t know if that suits you.”

“What?” Bradley gasped at you teasingly. “You do not think I’m mighty?”

“That is not what I said,” your giggles increased in volume as Bradley pantomimed his heartbreak at your words.

“Lady Simpson, how could you say such things?”

You bit your bottom lip to hold back your ever-growing smile as Bradley began to quiet down his antics. “I did not say such things. You said such things.”

He grinned. “But you did say that ‘mighty’ does not suit me.”

“And I do not think it does,” you confirmed. “But I did not mean that you aren’t mighty.”

“Well, you are a Lady,” Bradley moved to sit next to you again— his rolling in the grass had been a bit dramatic. “Which I believe gives you the power to knight someone. What would you have picked?”

And you looked at Bradley thoughtfully, taking him in like you took in objects you hoped to sketch— memorizing every detail and piecing them together. You tapped his two shoulders lightly with the end of your pencil. He swallowed, suddenly nervous.

“Sir Bradshaw the Resilient,” you said decidedly.

Bradley was adamant about keeping his word to your sisters. Though they’d stopped watching him so vigilantly — they’d stopped stationing themselves in the hall after the first day — Bradley was firm that he would not betray their trust.

There were many instances where he could, many instances where he wanted to, but he stopped himself. If he wanted to fix this, if he truly wanted to make amends, he could not simply do things because he felt he was owed them.

Bradley had made his choices, he knew that, and those choices had led you plunging into the depths of a lake because that was better than being near him at the current moment, he knew that as well. Bradley felt as though, if he were to enter your room, then he would not have faced his fair consequences.

His mother had worded it best he found, as he continued to re-familiarize himself with her poems, that he could not simply decide when to get angry and decide when to apologize. In the same way he would not want Charlie to apologize if she decided that only she was ready for it, it would be unfair of him to do the same to you. No, Bradley’s apology was not for himself, he knew that, so he never once attempted to open your bedroom door.

And so Bradley stayed true to his word, resting his back against walls and his legs against wood flooring. It was only on the sixth day of your bedrest that he found himself finally breaking his promise.

The door to your room was opening and closing constantly, staff and the doctor filing in and out in a hurry. The house was louder than it had been in days, a level of anxiety rising in the air as maids rushed in with blankets and then out with blankets. Or as the nurse kept leaving and coming back with medical instruments and Bradley couldn’t fathom why she didn’t just take the whole bag.

Your sisters had already left for the morning, needing to attend to some things and to update your family of your condition. In other words, Bradley was alone, pacing outside your room as various people hustled and bustled around him, all seemingly too busy to tell him anything.

“What’s going on?”

Bradley’s pacing halted, his head snapping to the door.

“Please lie down, Mrs. Bradshaw. We still need to examine you.”

“I don’t understand.”

The physician’s assistant — the Mitchells insisted that only the best care be provided — exited the room again and, this time, Bradley stopped him.

“What’s going on? Is she awake?”

“Yes, Mr. Bradshaw,” the physician’s assistant was looking around, shifting on his feet as if Bradley were wasting his time. “We just need to make sure there aren’t any injuries that are more prevalent now that she’s awakened.”

“Are there any?”

The shorter man, who reminded Bradley distinctly of a frog, swallowed nervously under his gaze. “Not at the moment. But we’re still looking—”

“What— What happened?”

Bradley’s attention turned to the door again, his eyes fixated on the granulated wood as if, if he looked at it long enough, it would disappear.

“You’re scaring her,” the words came out quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself.

“We’re trying—”

“Where are my sisters?”

“Well, you aren’t trying hard enough,” Bradley’s voice began to rise. “You’re scaring her!”

Bradley made an attempt at the door, though frog man was quicker, pressing his back against the knob and sticking his arm out, eyes widening in surprise.

“Move,” Bradley gritted through his teeth.

“I want to see my sisters.”

“You can’t go in there yet, Mr. Bradshaw,” the assistant began to explain, his voice losing more and more of its determination as the fires in Bradley’s eyes only grew. “The doctor has to—”

“Please.”

“Clearly you have forgotten, so I will do you the courtesy of reminding you,” Bradley took a step closer, leaning down slightly so he could direct his words inches from the frog man’s ear. “That is my wife in there. And I am getting through that door. The state of your body after I do so is your choice.”

The physician’s assistant swallowed shakily, before moving to the side without a word. Bradley did not spare him another glance as he pushed open the door.

The room almost seemed like a painting when he entered. You, dressed in your nightgown, sitting on the side of the bed with glassy eyes as you tried to capture the doctor’s attention. He was standing on the left side of the room, scribbling something down in his notes as if he believed you were an object to be examined and not a person to be tended to. Both your heads turned at the sudden noise, two sets of eyes landing on him.

Bradley directed his attention to the physician for a moment. “Is she healthy?”

“Yes—”

“Good,” Bradley growled. “Get out.”

The doctor’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn’t protest, exiting the room and closing the door behind him. It was only once he had done so that Bradley redirected his attention to you, who was now watching him worriedly. Unable to stop himself, Bradley rushed forward and fell to his knees before you.

For a moment Bradley couldn’t speak.

It had been six days since he’d last seen you and the last time he’d had his eyes on you, you were cold and unmoving, so different from your comforting warmth. The last time he had seen you, he could not revel in your light eyes and patient mind. And, as he kneeled before you, that was precisely what he did.

“Are you angry with me?” Your eyes were downcast as you said the words, looking at your hands you had rested in your lap.

Bradley’s brows furrowed. “Angry with you?”

“For this,” you gestured timidly towards the door, to the doctor he assumed. “I’m sure it was a lot of trouble.”

“No,” Bradley tried to placate, angling his head in an attempt to meet your downward gaze. “I’m not angry with you, dove.”

This time it was you who furrowed your brows, eyes watering and hands starting to shake. The feelings you’d been suppressing — mostly out of confusion at your current predicament — seemed to be overflowing now, pushing at you like water to a dam. Your dam appeared to be far more weathered than you remembered.

“Why—” Your eyes kept darting between his own, as if, in his irises, you’d find your answers. “I don’t—”

Bradley reached for your hands, holding them in his own comfortingly. “Do you remember anything of what happened?” He prompted softly.

“I remember we went to dinner with the Mitchells,” you started slowly and Bradley squeezed your hand in praise. “And Pete Mitchell must have said something to upset you because you came out of his study looking quite cross. And then we were returning home and I must have said something to upset you—”

You cut yourself off, looking out the window of your bedroom with a distant gaze. Your hands continued to shake in Bradley’s as he desperately attempted to read your mind. You closed your eyes, bottom lip tucking into your teeth, and you thought of Bradley, and Charlie, and freezing water, and the inability to breathe—

The dam broke.

You wept, tears rolling down your cheeks as you shook your head pitifully. “You hated me.”

“No. No, darling,” he tried to cup your cheek gently but you were shaking your head too much to hold still long enough. “I never hated you.”

“Yes, you did!” You sobbed. “Yes, you did. You hated me!”

Suddenly his hands were on your cheeks, anchoring you as he looked into your eyes resolutely. “I never hated you. I was mean and cruel, I know that, but my love, I never hated you.”

You sniffed, pouting slightly as Bradley tenderly wiped your tears. “Really?”

Bradley smiled softly. “Not even for a moment.”

“But…” You felt like a child with the way you were speaking to him, eyes glassed with confusion as you tried to figure out his abrupt shift. “You were so mean to me.”

“I know,” Bradley frowned, stroking your cheekbone with an affection you didn’t know he had for you. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, dove. If you’ll let me, that is.”

You reached up for his right hand timidly. As if he might pull away.

He didn’t.

“I like it when you call me that,” you whispered.

“Do you?” Bradley’s features were alight with joy. “Then I shall call you it any moment I can.”

You brought your fingers to his face, as if to determine if he were real, and he pressed kisses to the pads of them softly.

“Okay,” you agreed and Bradley smiled against your fingers. “But—”

You let out a shaky breath and Bradley did his best to look at you encouragingly.

“But I don’t think— I think I am unable—” You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a large breath as if a surplus of air would help push the words out. “I am having difficulty forgetting the things you said.”

“I see,” Bradley nodded in understanding, shifting away from you slightly— though he kept cradling your face in his hands, something in him telling him he should. “Would you like space from me then?”

You peeked your eyes open.

“We can sleep in different rooms if you would like?” He continued. “I know you like the parlor room, that can be yours as well.”

You cocked your head slightly— Bradley wasn’t sure if you were even aware you were doing it. “You’re not cross?” Because, surely, that would get him in trouble with Pete Mitchell.

“I’m not cross, dove,” he affirmed and took a breath. Because he’d had far too long to think about his feelings so, at the very least, he should be able to articulate them. “I am… I am mournful, but I understand.”

The room fell into silence, your eyes unable to leave Bradley but your mouth unable to speak to him either. Bradley took it in stride, taking the time to do his own check of your body, his faith in the doctor having thoroughly decreased.

Once he was done, he dropped his hands, one of them moving immediately to grab onto the hem of your nightgown. It was an attempted compromise— appeasing his sudden, constant need to be touching you while not overstepping your desire for separation.

“What happened to you?” You breathed.

Bradley smiled softly, meeting your eye again. “You, I suppose.”

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#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw au #rooster imagine #rooster imagines #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster angst #rooster au #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #je te laisserai des mots #buggy's got a pen

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jacobbaeluvr · 8 months

Text

you can flirt now?

genre: fluff

pairing: (the boyz) jacob bae x gn!reader

summary: in which you try many ways to flirt with jacob but it suddenly backfires

warnings: uh uses of pickup lines (non-sensual ones), kissing on the neck and lips obvi, whispering, a lil cursing, uses of love, babe, cob and baby, bad humour cause i have em

notes: my woo fic is still ongoing lol idk when i'm gonna finish it

word count: 460 words

warnings pt2: this fic is not real! it's all fake so if you're uncomfortable pls block me

you sigh, the book in your hands no longer you find interested. instead, you're interested at your boyfriend's back profile. god he even looks good sitting there with his headphones on. jacob had a day off today but it seems that he's too focused on his work that it doesn't look like he has a day off.

feeling bored you got up and grabbed an extra chair before making your way beside jacob. noticing you, he placed one side of the headphones aside.

“hey baby, what's up?”

you shrugged.

“the ceiling obviously. anyways when are you done? i'm bored.”

you whined and placed your head on his shoulder. his head rested on yours after, rubbing it against yours.

“just a bit love, i'm almost done”

he then took out his headphones and started typing on his laptop.

still bored, you thought of a good idea. pickup lines.

grabbing your phone, you went on safari and searched 'pickup lines for flirting'. pressing on the first link, you tap jacob on the shoulder.

“babe, something’s wrong with my eyes because i can’t take them off of you.”

jacob chuckled.

“thanks a lot baby but i need to get this done”

giving a short peck on your lips, he continued typing on his laptop. damn it, it didn't work.

hm, let's see. ah huh, what about this one.

“babe, i’m going to complain to spotify about you not being in this week’s hottest singles.”

jacob let out a smile and ruffled your hair gently, putting your hair behind your ear before going back to his laptop. letting out a big exhale, you went back to bed. all your flirting doesn't work, fuck. hm, maybe some kisses would work.

getting up again, you tiptoed behind him carefully placing your hands on his chair before getting near his neck and giving it a peck. he made a sound of surprised but quickly recovered from it. going back to his ear, you whispered.

“cob”

“hm?”

“are you done?”

he shook his head.

“do you really need me that bad?”

“yes badly, you don't understand”

jacob laughed, it was the cutest thing ever.

“alright alright, i'll be there. let me just save this and i'll be cuddling with you okay.”

“okay!” you smiled before getting under the covers.

realising jacob is done, you open the covers before making grabby hands at him. making himself comfortable, he spooned you with one of his arms under your head and one on your waist.

“happy now?” he whispered.

“very” you replied happily.

“you know i must be in a museum because you truly are a work of art.”

did he just...

shocked, you turned with your eyes wide open.

“since when you can flirt now?”

he smiled before kissing your neck like you did to him previously.

“aww come on, i'm not that innocent love”

he rubbed his nose against your neck, kissing it at the same time. you were hot from blushing really hard.

your boyfriend can flirt now.

masterlist <3

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bratzforchris · 7 months

Text

Flare Ups

❃

Summary: Role reversal of my fic "Sick Days"

Pairing: Luke x feminine reader

Warnings: Minor depression over chronic illness

Word Count: 1661

A/N: This was requested by the beautiful @blinkinglightsandmusic <3. Thank you for the idea, angel! Also, if you'd like to learn more about PFAPA (the chronic illness described in this fic), my previous post linked above has a link to learn more :)

❃

You woke up and immediately groaned, cuddling closer into Luke’s side while trying to fight tears. Your throat was sore, your joints were aching, and you could tell that you were running a pretty high fever based on how cold you were. Chronic illness was probably the worst thing in your life. It zapped so much of your energy, basically binding you to your bed or the couch for days.

Luke rolled over, feeling the way you were shaking against him. He blinked the sleep out of his blue eyes and looked at you. “Baby? You okay, my love?”

He knew you probably weren’t, but it was a good way for him to understand where your mind was at. Having been with you for nearly four years, Luke was pretty well-versed in taking care of you during your flare ups. They were just regular enough that he could track them and know when one was coming.

“Flare up.” You sniffled, pulling your snuggly blanket up to your chin.

“Oh, princess,” he cooed softly, laying his cheek against your forehead to check your fever. “You’re burning up, darlin’. Let’s check your temperature.”

Luke moved to pull the thermometer out of your nightstand while you watched him with teary eyes. If you didn’t feel so awful, you’d probably find him acting all nurselike while shirtless hot, but you just felt so miserable. Luke ran his hand across your cheek as he stuck the metal device under your tongue, which made you whine from the cold. His touch was gentle as he lovingly

gave you a small massage while waiting to check your temperature.

“103.2,” the blond said softly when the device beeped. “That’s high, honey.”

“It hurts.” You said, a tear sneaking down your cheek.

“Do ya wanna take some Tylenol?” he asked you, yawning. “Know it usually doesn’t work, but it’s worth a try.” Luke pulled you into him, sleepily snuggling into you.

Your fevers always made you emotional, and seeing how tired Luke still was made you sob. “I’m sorry.” You cried.

“Lovely,” the blond pouted sadly, rubbing your tummy as he spooned you. “What are you sorry for, princess?”

“You’re still tired and you’re having to take care of me!” You wailed.

“Sweetheart,” Luke said gently. “I’m not having to take care of you. I want to because I love you.”

You rolled over, sobbing into Luke’s chest. Your boyfriend just gently rubbed your back, knowing that you were sick and emotional, instead of actually sad. He carded his fingers through your hair, whispering comforting little words to you. You sobbed until you gagged and Luke slowly sat you up, rubbing your back.

“Sweet girl, I need you to take some deep breaths, pumpkin. Don’t want you to make yourself sick, honey.” he said firmly, but not unkindly.

You gulped in a few breaths of air, still crying, but they had slowly turned to hiccups instead of sobs. Luke continued to rub your back, pulling a hair band off his wrist to tie your hair up into a messy, low bun.

“Good girl,” he smiled, knowing praise always helped you feel better. “Is that better?” he asked, rubbing your knees softly.

Luke knew how much your fevers made your joints ache, but especially your knees, and he would do absolutely anything to make you feel better. You nodded a thank you, wrapping your arms around his neck shakily.

“‘M cold.” You whimpered, desperately pulling yourself ever closer to him for a bit of warmth.

“Want a hoodie, lovely?” Your boyfriend asked you. “I don’t want you to get too overheated, darling.”

You nodded into Luke’s chest and he carefully slid from under your grip, tucking you in and kissing your forehead with a little “be right back”. The blond wandered downstairs, throwing one of his clean hoodies into the dryer for a little extra warmth before going into the kitchen to feed Petunia and find you something to eat. Luke stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, thinking. You needed something to take medicine with, but he wasn’t the greatest cook and there wasn’t much you’d want to eat with your sore throat.

He eventually decided on a can of chicken noodle soup that you kept in the cupboard for your flare ups and began to heat it up over the stove. While the soup simmered, Luke made you a hot cup of green tea with honey and lemon to ease the spots in your throat and began to prepare your medicines. There weren’t many, but he made sure to put both your pain reliever and your mental health medicines in a small dish so they were easily accessible for you. Anything that would help take some of the pressure off your shoulders during your flare ups, he would do.

Luke carefully ladled the now-warm soup into a little, pink, glass bowl for you and placed it on a tray, along with your tea, your medicines, some toast and coffee for himself, and a small fake flower in hopes of making you smile. Quite happy with his little spread, Luke picked up the tray and grabbed his hoodie from the dryer, starting to make the trek upstairs with Petunia nipping at his heels.

“I’m back, lovely.” he cooed, opening the bedroom door to look at you.

You had propped yourself up with pillows and had made a blanket nest while he was gone, selecting a comedy to watch on Netflix. The bedroom was still dark where the curtains were still drawn, but in his mind, you looked absolutely beautiful. It never mattered to Luke how sick you were or how much the flare ups took out of you. He still thought you were the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Luke placed the tray at the foot of the bed, bowing goofily. “Bon appetit, madam.”

You tried to giggle, but winced when it hurt your throat. “Thank you.” You croaked out.

“Shhh, don’t talk, babe.” he said softly, climbing into bed beside you.

You pouted, but grabbed the bowl of soup and began to drink the broth, savoring the way the warm liquid soothed your throat. You definitely weren’t feeling much better physically, but Luke made everything better emotionally. Just his presence was comforting. He was a beyond great nurse.

“Don’t forget to take your meds too, sweetheart.” he smiled, patting your knee.

You did as told, swallowing them down with a sip of tea. Once you had finished the soup, you placed the bowl back on the tray and cuddled up into Luke’s side, slightly more content now that your tummy was full. You grabbed your phone off the charger and began to type, before turning the screen and showing it to Luke.

i love you<3 You had typed.

Luke smiled, his dimple on full display. “I love you too, babe. I just want you to focus on getting better, sweet girl.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you snuggled into his side, giggling lowly. you’re the best :) You typed again.

Your boyfriend cooed, kissing your cheek. “Remember me when they nominate the best nurse award.” he chuckled.

You nodded eagerly, typing one more quick thing to him.

can you look in my throat?

Luke did as you asked, of course, taking your phone from you and shining the flashlight in your throat. “You have the spots again and it’s red, baby. Definitely a flare up.” he said sadly.

You didn’t want to cry again, but tears welled in your eyes. “I hate being sick,” You croaked out. “Just wanna live normally.”

That sentence absolutely broke Luke’s heart. He knew how hard these flare ups were for you, especially considering there wasn’t really a cure for them. Your immune system just had some odd malfunctions, and there wasn’t much doctors could do to fix it. The best you could do was keep the worst of the side effects away with pain relievers and care.

“Would a cool bath help, my love? You might feel better if we bring your fever down one or two degrees.” he suggested.

Even though you had been living with PFAPA your whole life, Luke was able to think much clearer when you had flare ups, mostly because he wasn’t in a fever haze like you were. To his surprise, you nodded, which told him you must’ve been feeling terrible. You normally fought cool baths with a passion.

Luke helped you up and to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet seat while he started the shower. He slowly helped you undress and step into the shower, holding your hand the whole time.

“All set, baby?” he asked you.

“Don’t go.” You whimpered, looking at him with bloodshot eyes and clinging to his hand despite the cold shower water pounding against your back.

Luke had expected you to say that, so he just gently smiled and began to undress, stepping into the shower with you. You leaned your head back against his broad shoulder, whining softly.

“I know, honey, I know.” the blond said sadly, massaging your shoulders, back, and tummy.

“It’s cold. I wanna get out. I don’t feel good.” You cried.

“A few more minutes and then I promise you can get out, sweetheart.” Luke said gently, bending down to rub your knees.

The shower was small and Luke was a big boy, but he still crouched down on the balls of his feet and began to rub your knees, doing everything in his power to make you feel better. You were his girl and he’d do anything for you.

It was right then that you knew Luke truly loved you. It wasn’t the fancy gifts or the passionate sex. It was intimate moments like these where you weren’t “Y/N, Luke’s girlfriend” and “Luke Hemmings from 5SOS”. You were just Luke and Y/N and that was what you loved most.

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dawneternal · 2 months

Text

Take the World in Your Hands | Eris x Elain | pt. 8

Summary: Eris's brothers catch wind of his proposal to Nesta. They plan to find and deliver her to their father as a gift, surely winning his favor. Their plan takes a turn when they kidnap the wrong Archeron sister and Eris finds her in the Autumn Court dungeon.

Notes: we're nearing the end, friends 💛 there's a couple more parts and then an epilogue. I've thought about writing an alternate ending bonus chapter, let me know what you think. Sorry this one isn't as polished.

Warnings: 18+, smut (it's kinda filthy srry)(did someone say Mr Eris Bodice-Ripper)

Word Count: 2.8k

Ao3 Link / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

eight - point taken

Elain laughed, head fuzzy from whiskey, dizzy from spinning around and around. Eris laughed with her, holding her tight against him as they danced.

The night had turned around, transforming into something sparkling with alcohol haze and dazzling with the rush of being seen. Perhaps it was terrible for her to feel so high on the wicked thing she'd done. But at the moment, she couldn't find it in herself to be sorry. She was not even sure if it was the deed that had thrilled her, or just the fact that she'd managed to do it.

Eris had taken full advantage of the cut of her dress, constantly finding her bare skin as they sat at the long table. His touch was reckless, pulling a deep blush from her every time he ventured a little too far. Rhysand glowered as if he knew exactly what was happening under the table. Because he did know, and it was exactly what he would do in Eris's position.

This was a gift that Eris had not anticipated. Watching Rhysand attempt to swallow a bitter spoonful of his own medicine. It was a gift he savored.

Same as he savored the glittering gem of a girl in his arms, her laughter like a song as she danced and spun. This was turning out to be, perhaps, the greatest scheme he had ever thought of. He had twirled her away from the others a few times, into some little alcove to kiss her and drink in her giggling and teasing.

It was in one of those alcoves that he discovered she had foregone underwear. Of course, she blamed it on the cut of the dress. If she had worn any, the high slits would have shown it. Then she had smirked at him and practically skipped away, knowing he would be at her heels chasing her.

Eris intended to whirl her back into that unsupervised corner as soon as the current song had ended. His desperation was growing and his standards were dropping at the same rate. He felt that his hands had touched every inch of her skin but the place he wanted most.

But before they could begin something truly scandalous, Eris was swept away by some political nobody to a dull conversation with other representatives.

Had his senses been a bit sharper, he could have avoided it. But he had downed one too many fancy drinks, garnished with sugar stars and mint leaves. The taste of revenge and Elain and sweet mint all together was intoxicating on its own without the alcohol. Thus, he found himself pulled away and Elain found herself standing alone.

"Elain," Rhys's voice drifted to her and she turned to find him staring down at her.

Hands in his pockets, face cold and emotionless. It stung, just a little, to be on the receiving end of that mask. She had seen it used on many others. But never her.

"Rhysand," She said, too aware of her slightly slurred speech and pink cheeks. Perhaps she should not have had so much to drink before he had singled her out. She knew he was going to. At least Feyre had not joined him.

"You look lovely," He said, the sincerity giving Elain a pang of guilt.

"Thank you," She blushed and cleared her throat. Trying to remember what she had wanted to say.

"Why Eris?" He said, voice quiet. "I understand you were upset with me. And I wish things had happened in a different way. But I was only trying to do what was best for you and Azriel-"

At the sound of Azriel's name, Elain's anger returned. Her mind cleared.

"I should have some say in what's best for me, shouldn't I?" Elain snapped, finally looking into his midnight eyes. They did not muddle her thoughts as they had when she first met him as a human.

"Of course," Rhysand spoke through pursed lips, "But I'll admit I don't understand your choices. What of Lucien? What of Mor?"

"Lucien will know nothing, unless you tell him," Elain gritted out, "And you are making a good deal of assumptions, Rhysand. You know nothing of what's happened the past few days."

"Mor may not forgive you," Rhys said, ignoring the rest of her statement.

His words did not seem to be as cleverly thought out as usual. Perhaps she had flustered him more than she anticipated. He appeared to be grasping at whatever he could to affect her in some way. Elain had triggered an anger that was beyond reason.

"There are many things you don't know," Elain drew herself to her full height. Barely rising to Rhys's shoulder. If he had asked honestly, kindly, she may have told him the truth. But not now.

"Enlighten me," Rhysand drawled, rather predictably.

"You know the rumor, Rhysand. But I know the truth. Tell her where I've been and note her reaction. Is her concern for me or for her own feelings? Perhaps you should finally ask her to tell you the story herself."

Elain did not hate Mor. She was not mad at Mor. She softened her tone before adding, "I would hope she understands what it is to make difficult choices to get your loved ones to hear you. She should know how it feels to be drowning in the need to be seen as you truly are."

Rhysand must know there was some truth in her words. His fury had cooled to a mere simmer. But he hadn't calmed enough to sort through what she had said, just yet. Instead, his eyes flicked down to the dagger strapped to her thigh, and Elain wondered if he recognized it as Eris's.

"Do you even know how to use that?" He said, tone one of disdain.

In one swift motion, just as Eris had taught her, she unsheathed the dagger, gripped it in her hand, and had it hovering an inch from the High Lord's neck. He did not flinch, did not move in the slightest as he stared at her, darkness and anger swirling in those violet eyes. Behind it, something else glimmered. Something that looked like pride.

"Very well, Elain," He placed a gentle hand on her wrist and lowered the blade away from his neck. "Point taken."

He turned on his heel and disappeared, hands clasped behind his back. Elain stared after him, trying to unravel her emotions. Then Eris was at her side, a firm hand wrapped around her waist.

"Are you alright?"

"I think," Elain sighed, letting her body slump against him, wondering how much he had heard, "That if this does not make them listen, then perhaps they just don't want to hear me."

"Come," Eris pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tightening his grip around her, "You're in need of desserts."

***

Desserts turned out to be kisses in that hidden corner. He was not wrong in assuming that it would cheer her up. Though the heat between them was rising to a dangerous height. Whatever had been settled between Elain and Rhysand would be undone if they were caught this way. Pressed against each other, Elain's leg hooked over Eris's hip as he held tight to the bend of her knee. Lost in a deep and feverish kiss.

Eris pulled away and grasped her chin, thumb pressed against her lips. Elain captured it and pulled it into her mouth, caressing the pad of his thumb with her tongue.

Eris made a low sound deep in his throat. Then he dipped his head to her chest and began to trace the line of lace over the swell of her breasts. The hand around her leg held firm and the other ventured under the velvet skirt yet again.

"Eris," She breathed, grasping fistfuls of copper hair and pulling his head away.

"Yes, darling?"

"I'm done here," She whispered, chest heaving. Eris eyebrows drew upwards. "Take me somewhere else and finish what you started."

Eris eyes darkened, his grip on her tightened, and then they were winnowing.

***

Eris winnowed them to a dim, stone corridor, arched doorways at intervals as far as the hallway stretched. This must be some hall of guest rooms in the Hewn City, as the marble floor matched the one in the ballroom.

He grabbed her hand and led her to one of the aged wooden doors, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking it.

The room was large and cozy, lit by candles and sconces housing fae lights. A large bed sat centered on one wall, draped in soft sheets and fluffy blankets with a velvet canopy hovering overhead. A fire blazed in the stone hearth and a doorway on the back wall led to a washroom. It was all warm colors, maroon fabrics, cobalt rugs, and dark wooden furniture.

"I didn't think about where we'd stay tonight," Elain said, toeing off her shoes and feeling the plush carpet under her feet.

"I did," Eris flashed a wry smile. "And I thought of something else, too."

He padded to one of the nightstands on either side of the bed, one with a lidded silver tray resting on it. Eris lifted the lid with a flourish.

"Desserts!" Elain cheered. She crossed to him and threw her arms around his neck. "You're too good to me."

"Oh, I'm not done yet," Eris chuckled, replacing the lid and wrapping his arms around her.

He kissed her fiercely, charged with the wicked energy of the evening. Elain kissed him back, hands in his hair, standing on her toes to press her body into his. Eris's lips were everywhere. On her neck, her jaw, the hollow of her throat, the expanse of her pale chest. Elain's head still buzzed with the remains of the alcohol and it only added to the heat in her stomach. She pulled and met his gaze, wild-eyed and disheveled from the revelry.

"There's something I want to do," She whispered, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

His eyebrows drew up as he helped, unfastening each button with more precision than Elain could muster. She pulled at his belt instead, much easier to undo. When he had been released from his clothes, she pressed her hands to his bare chest and kissed him before he could begin on her dress. She smiled against his lips as her thumbs brushed his nipples and pulled a delicious shiver from him.

Then she pushed him, hard, and watched him stumble back against the bed. Eris watched her, enamored, pupils blown with desire. Elain locked eyes with him and sank to her knees between his legs. Her hands went to his thighs and wandered, noting which tender places made the muscles in his jaw twitch.

Then her lips and teeth replaced her fingers and she left a trail of punishing bruises on the inside of his thighs, relishing the groans and whimpers that left him. She soothed each spot with her tongue and kissed it softly. Finally, she drew his length into her mouth, running her tongue over the arousal dripping down the tip.

Eris moaned her name and threaded his fingers through her curls. Elain arched her back at the sound of it, hips grinding against nothing as she bobbed her head and wrapped her hand around the length that wouldn't fit. She pulled away, swirling her tongue over the underside of his cock, tightening her grip. It was too slow, too teasing for the desperation that had gathered within him.

He let his head fall back, his eyes close, and he grasped handfuls of her hair to pull her in closer. He urged her into a faster rhythm, fingernails scraping against her scalp and spreading goosebumps across her skin. His groans became closer together, a long string of cursing and pleading. Elain sucked her cheeks in tight around him as her eyes watered and he fell over the edge. Heat bloomed in her throat, each erratic thrust of his hips releasing more against her tongue. Elain swallowed, gazing up at him while he watched.

"Fuck," Eris breathed, loosening his grip. He stared at her, the tears gathered in her eyes, her lips red and swollen, the self-satisfied smirk she wore. Her dress was rumpled and her hair was a beautiful mess. It was enough to heat his blood all over again and he grabbed her chin to pull her up toward him.

He kissed her, tongue in her mouth tasting the remnants his release. Then he returned the favor of her marking bruises, nipping with enough force to pull little yelps from her throat. But she did not stop him, only held on tight.

"Eris," She breathed, as his teeth nipped at her collarbone.

"Tell me what you want, dove," Eris purred, returning his tongue to her skin.

"Fuck me," She whispered, pressing herself tighter against him. The first time she had ever spoken the word in his presence.

Eris paused, heart jumping into his throat. Then he grasped the front of her dress in both hands and ripped. Beads scattered, bouncing to the floor with a shower of clinking sounds.

"Eris!" Elain gasped, holding onto the fabric at her waist to keep the dress from falling off completely.

"I paid for it," Was all he said before his mouth was on her exposed breasts.

Elain had determined to remain indignant, but the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive nipples was enough to undo her resolve. She moaned and pushed her chest further into his mouth. Eris gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and pulled her hands away from her waist, letting the dress flutter to the floor and reveal her body.

Then Eris removed his mouth from her and stood back, admiring. The fae lights carved out her form in golden slivers of light, illuminating her soft curves. He was memorizing, saving the image in his mind.

"Make sure you admire both sides equally," Elain admonished and flipped over, bending over the tall bed and presenting her backside to him. She was more than ready. She was burning from a night full of secret touches, Eris's terribly behaved hands always reaching for the exposed skin of her back, her thighs, her cleavage. He had never ventured between her thighs and discovered her soaked skin, ready and warm and aching. So she would show him.

Eris made a desperate sound and she felt his warm hands at her waist, running over the curve of her back, the swell of her ass, every inch of skin she presented. He spread her thighs apart and admired her glistening folds, waiting for him. There was a pause as he grabbed his length in his fist and aligned, and then he thrust into her in one motion, hips pressing firmly against her bottom.

Elain gasped and grabbed a handful of comforter, pushing her hips back against him. Eris moaned, unmoving.

"Patience, dove," Eris murmured, spreading her even further apart to push in deeper.

He could feel her pulse around his cock, warm and desperate. He relented to her body's pleas, pulling out almost all the way and then slamming back in. He repeated it a few times, relishing her cries and the way her back arched.

"Please," She begged into the blanket, "Fuck me."

Eris obeyed, beginning a ruthless pace, skin slapping against hers. He hoped that if the High Lord had stayed in the Hewn City tonight, his room was nowhere close enough to hear Elain's sounds. Or at least, maybe no one would not recognize the sound of innocent Elain begging harder faster more.

"Do not stop," He gritted out, voice low, "I want to hear you."

Eris reached underneath her and circled her bundle of nerves, rewarding him with a chant of his name. She pinched a nipple with one hand, the other attempting to brace against the mattress as her body was shoved backward and forward by his movements.

"Come with me?" Eris groaned, feeling too intensely every time she pushed her hips back against his.

"Yes," Elain sobbed, feet finding purchase against his on the floor.

"Good girl," Eris breathed as his release crashed into him, whole being trembling with the force of that pleasure. Elain's hums and cries were muffled by the comforter, her legs trembling against his. He could remain in that world of bliss forever, so aware of every place their skin touched. He chased the feeling as long as he could. It never lasted long enough.

Eris pulled out, seed leaking down Elain's legs. She did not notice him leave, gathering her wits as she remained bent over the bed. Arms curled underneath her, golden hair silky against her bare shoulders, she let out a contented sigh. Pleasure still coursed through her, like her body singing thanks for its release after hours of teasing.

Elain jumped at the feeling of a damp towel against her skin, relaxing as Eris cleaned her thoroughly. When he was done she flipped over and flashed him a breathless grin.

"Alright?" Eris asked, climbing into the bed beside her.

"Almost," She said, wriggling under the sheets. She pulled the tray of desserts onto her lap and handed him a fork. "Now I am."

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faroreskiss · 9 months

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The Power of Understanding / Part 4 (v2)

Read on Ao3

Cheat Sheet

Rewritten version posted on: 2023/09/10

Chapters: Pilot, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

This chapter can be also read as a stand-alone, it is only here to provide more information about the relationship between Wild & You & Flora. This SFW chapter also serves as an Epilogue to "Unnatural Coincidences" (NSFW)

In this chapter: Learn more about what happened between you, Wild and Flora prior to meeting the Chain. What happened the night after you... shared each other?

Summary: You have been with the Chain for a while now, as their "scholar" and translator. You know everything about them, because you are from our world. But do they know the truth about how you can understand everyone? Loosely based on the same reader in my NSFW fic, which has some info about the Reader here. You don't have to read it. Warnings: Rated teen, slightly spicy but SFW. VERY FLUFFY! Flora x Fem!Reader x Wild (Zelda x Fem!Reader x Wild)

The day the Chain first dropped into your life for the first time, it was… odd timing, to say the least.

It was the day right after the night you, Zelda, and Link, well… enjoyed each other’s company in a very specific way. Without clothes. Very, very closely.

The morning of that day was mostly quiet, sunlight gently shining through the curtains as you opened your eyes; it was still too early for you. The first thing you noticed was the ceiling; this was not YOUR ceiling. You blushed to yourself, as glimpses of what happened last night randomly assaulted your brain cells.

Then you realized the body, nay, two bodies that were also in the bed with you. Zelda was in a fetal position, her face turned towards you, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of her breaths. Link was a bit spread over in a starfish position, spreading over to a side, his mouth slightly gaping open.

You wanted to stretch a bit but didn’t want to wake anyone up.

The blanket was surprisingly still covering all of you, though most of it was on you and Zelda, barely covering Link between high legs and belly.

Right. You thought to yourself again, nobody had any clothes on. You couldn’t help yourself but gazed sleepily at Link’s torso, full of scars, yet his face was one of peace at this moment. Damn, he was attractive.

You started to shiver a bit, realizing the blanket wasn’t actually covering you completely, you adjusted it on Link, your hands coming close to dangerous places, it was wrapped and bundled in funny ways. You fixed it, this time covering yourself and turning on your side, coming face to face with Zelda’s cute sleeping face. A stray hair was dangling from the side. It just made something swell up in you, as the corners of your mouth lifted a bit. Risking waking her up, you gently put the hair up. There. All good now.

You felt Wild shift behind you, suddenly you felt warmer as he sneakily made you into the little spoon and whispered into your left ear.

“Isn’t she so… adorable?” he said lovingly.

“Shush, you are gonna wake her up,”

Link's voice was a soft murmur against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “I can’t help it. She looks divine when she sleeps.”

You couldn't help but smile, your heart fluttering at the way he spoke about Zelda. His affection for her was evident in every word, and as you stole a glance at her peaceful sleeping face, you couldn't help but agree. She truly was a vision of beauty, even in the early morning light. The blood of Hylia wasn't anything to underestimate.

“Don't you think we should let her sleep a little longer?” you whispered back, your voice carrying a hint of playfulness.

Link's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe you're right. We should let our angel rest.”

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, your heart pounding in your chest as you lay there, sandwiched between Link and Zelda. It was a moment you hadn't expected, a situation that had unfolded unexpectedly, yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. There was comfort in being surrounded by their warmth, a sense of belonging that you had never felt before.

As the morning light continued to fill the room, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. The events of the previous night had brought the three of you closer together in ways you hadn't imagined, and even though the reality of the situation was still sinking in, there was an unspoken understanding that seemed to bridge the gaps between you.

As the time felt like it was stretching, you found yourself lost in the tranquility of the morning, the soft rise and fall of her breaths, the steady heartbeat against your back. It was a moment frozen in time, a moment you wished could last forever.

Eventually, you felt Link’s lips press a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his affectionate gesture sending a shiver through you. “We should probably get up soon. Breakfast won't cook itself, and I have a feeling you're in for a treat.”

You chuckled softly, a mix of anticipation and curiosity bubbling within you. Link's cooking was legendary, and the idea of sharing a meal together felt like the perfect way to start the day.

"Sounds like a plan," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Zelda stirred beside you, her eyes fluttering open as she yawned softly. She blinked up at the two of you, her gaze shifting from Wild to you with a sleepy smile. "Morning, you two."

"Morning, Zelda," Link greeted, his voice warm and affectionate.

"Good morning," you chimed in, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. Even in the midst of morning dishevelment, she was radiant.

Zelda stretched and sat up, her gaze moving between the two of you. There was a brief moment of hesitation in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the situation you all found yourselves in. But then, a soft smile formed on her lips.

"I don't know about you, but I could really use some breakfast right now," she said, her tone casual as if it was any other morning. Good call.

Link grinned, the tension in the air dissipating. "Well, you're in luck. I happen to be an excellent cook."

She laughed, her laughter like music to your ears. "Oh really?" she feigned ignorance. Well, I'll be the judge of that."

As you all climbed out of bed, the morning seemed to hold a sense of promise. The events of the night before lingered in the air, unspoken yet ever-present.

Little did you know, all of it was about to come undone.

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sapphickorro · 2 years

Text

I’m Grateful You’re Mine

Pairing(s) - Lin Beifong x GN!Reader (no gender terms are used for reader)

summary: You wake up from a nightmare and luckily, you’ve got someone there to take care of you

warnings: none, just fluff

word count : 498 (short but sweet)

A/N: WOOOO First ff posted on tumblr. Great things are happening. p.s. I was listening to "Nothing - Bruno Major" as I was writing this. if you wanted some audio to accompany this short read.

ao3 link - masterlist

Your body sits up as you wake from a nightmare.

A cold sweat enveloping your skin. Tears that you didn't know were there, fell from your chin down to your blanket. Your hands, grasping a ball at the soft fabric of the duvet.

You turn to your right and see Lin. Her normal scowl gone and replaced by a serene smile. You wonder if she ever dreams about you.

You lift the blanket slowly off of your lap and walk to the bathroom. Cold water flows from the faucet of the sink as you hold your hand out cupping the water. You splash your face with the liquid, washing off all the sweat and tears.

As you turn off the faucet and hold onto edge of the counter, you hear a faint knock. You look to your right and see Lin standing by the doorway looking at you with concern.

"Hey," you say to her as you straighten your back out, turning your whole body towards her. Your voice quiet and small.

"Rough night?" She says as she walks towards you, enveloping your body in a hug. She kisses the top of your head as you wrap your arms around her waist. Your head finding a spot on her chest to lay on.

You don't say anything in return. Instead, you nod your head as an answer to her question.

"Come on, we still have time till the morning. You wanna head back to bed?" She softly asks you, never letting her grasp on you go.

You feel so safe and content in this moment. In this position. The nightmares, stressors, and troubles you previously had before this night were forgotten.

Lin was like the sun. Scorching to other people yet warm and comforting to you. This strong, grumpy woman can turn into a soft pile of mush for you. She would do absolutely anything for you. And you know it.

"Just hold me like this for a while longer," you say as you hold her closer, breathing in her scent.

She smelled of mint and herbal teas. A faint smell of her signature husky cologne lingered.

She smiles into your hair and responds with a small "Okay."

After what felt like forever, you two eventually break apart and walk back to the bed together. She hands you a cup of water that you drink eagerly.

You both lie down onto the bed facing each other. The moonlight shining from the window through the curtain emitted onto her face. You lean in and kiss her scarred cheek slowly. When you pull back, she grabs your face and pecks your lips.

"I love you," she whispers.

You smile and lean into her chest again. Her hands spooning you once again.

As your body started to succumb to exhaustion. You whisper "I love you too," back to her. Your voice just loud enough for her to understand what you said as she smiles and watches you fall asleep in her arms.

#﹔﹒ korro writes﹒ ෆ #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong #fluff #lin beifong x reader fluff

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starksvinyls · 1 year

Text

Title: A Bad Day Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Tags: Non-Sexual Age Play, DDlb, Diapers, Wetting, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Summary: Peter has a bad day. Notes: for @ageplay-may and the Sugar prompt for day 3: "a bad day" AO3 Link

Peter woke up with a wet pull-up, that was how it all started. Daddy had said that if he went one whole month without waking up wet, then he could go to bed in his big boy undies. It was day 23. He had been so close and Peter wanted to cry at how unfair it was!

When Daddy came in, it only took one look at Peter’s tear filled eyes for him to know what had happened.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay.” Tony came over and unlatched the side of his baby’s crib and helped Peter to climb out. “We’ll get you all cleaned up.”

Since he had just taken a bath the night before, Daddy let him get in the shower and helped him to just wash off his peepee and his thighs. After, he was dried off and dressed in some shorts overalls and a Star Wars shirt, and then it was time for breakfast.

Peter loved breakfast! Daddy always bought him Lucky Charms - his favoritist cereal. A bowl was set down in front of him once Peter had sat down at the table and he dug in, milk dribbling down his chin that he wiped away with the back of his hand. Daddy chuckled and came over with a paper towel.

“So messy,” He teased, wiping Peter’s chin.

Giggling, Peter went back to his cereal, but the bowl was suddenly tipping, spilling milk and cereal all over the table, it running towards him. Daddy quickly pulled his chair back to avoid any of the milk getting on Peter, and then went to pick up the bowl. He didn’t understand what had happened, had his spoon hit it?

Tears began to well up in Peter’s eyes. “‘M sorry, Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Daddy assured. “Accidents happen.”

Daddy was kneeling on the ground, wiping up all the spilled milk that had dripped into the floor. Peter just sat in the chair, out of the way like Daddy always said. Peter wanted to help, but he usually just ended up making the mess messier. Once it all was all cleaned up, including the table, Peter got up to push his chair back over to the table and then pouted at Daddy.

“Can i have some more cereal? Please?”

“Sorry, bud, we’re all out, that was the last of it.” Daddy said gently. “How about I make you a fried egg and bologna sandwich?”

Peter nodded dejectedly. He liked fried egg and bologna sandwiches, but it wasn’t his Lucky Charms.

—-

By the afternoon, Peter had had enough of this day. After breakfast, he had lab time with Daddy where he burned is finger. Then, during lunch, Peter accidentally bit his cheek while chewing. During coloring time, his favorite green crayon broke, and then the pink one did, too.

It was nap time, now, and Peter had to be put into a pull-up. He hated that, even though Daddy said that wasn’t a nice thing to say. But it was true! Peter stomped into his room, Daddy calling after him.

“Hey, no heavy feet, mister!” A second later Daddy appeared in the doorway of his room. “You know better than that.”

Peter did know better than that, he knew stomping around wasn’t going to make him feel better; he and Daddy talked about that sometimes when Peter was upset. He had done something Daddy said he shouldn’t do and he was thinking mean thoughts and nothing was going right today! Before he knew it, Peter burst into tears, head thrown back as he wailed.

“Oh, honey, hey!” Daddy rushed forward, cooing. “It’s okay, Daddy’s not mad, I just don’t want you to stomp around, okay?”

“D-daddy! I can’t wear my big boy undies and the crayons and the milk and my finger and my cheek, Daddy! And it was the green and pink crayons and…” Peter cried harder, bringing his hands up to rub his fists over his eyes.

“You’re having a bad day, huh, bud?” Daddy coaxed Peter over to the corner where the rocking chair was.

Peter climbed into Daddy’s lap the second he was sat down. He tucked his face into Daddy’s shoulder, his own shaking with his hitched breath as he continued to cry.

“Shh, honey, it’s okay.” Daddy rubbed his back. “It’s been a bad day, and you’re tired, I know. But everything is going to be okay.”

They rocked for awhile, Peter’s tears slowly drying up as he began to drift off to sleep. Before he could get too far, Daddy gently helped him up and guided Peter over to his crib. Once nice and cozy inside, his favorite bear tucked under his arm, Peter was finally able to slip off into dream land, and with it all his icky moments from the day disappeared.

#agepl4y may 2023 #starker #ironspider #starker fic #starksvinyls fic #*ageplay

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nicad13 · 1 year

Text

Crossroads: Chapter 13

The Lessons of Nightmares

Summary: The clan of Rollins-Djarin process prior events. Cara joins the crew, gets to know Rayne, and clears the air with Din. They hatch their plan for Gideon.

Rayne can’t sleep again, and we know what that means…

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Beautiful sketch (one of my favorites!) by @catstanbulite

Tags/Warnings: nightmares, sexual situations, revenge is a dish best served cold

Rating: Mature

And I feel like I'm being eaten By a thousand million shivering furry holes And I know that in the morning I will wake up In the shivering cold

The Cure, Lullaby

---

Yadier woke from one darkness only to find himself in another.

But this was a different type of darkness. A warm darkness. A kind darkness. A safe darkness.

His parents, not wanting him to wake alone after his ordeal, had brought him in with them before succumbing to sleep, and he found himself in-between them now, sandwiched between his father’s warm bare skin and his mother’s soft cotton shirt.

His memories of before were vague and foggy. His father motionless on the deck, mind muted and unreachable. His mother’s weak struggles against their captors, how he felt her pain as his own when the trooper hit her with the blaster. Once again being trapped in the scary table that held him down, once again being stared at by the strange man with the strange round things on his face whose mind raced between fear and awe and cold calculation. And then everything had faded away.

But now he was home. On the Razor Crest. He was safe. He knew his parents had come for him. His parents had saved him.

And even as they slept, he sensed that the bond between his parents had strengthened. The rift between them had narrowed.

He was hungry. He squirmed and yawned, stretching his arms and legs. He was too tired to do much of anything else besides try to say “frog,” “yogurt,” and “buir.” Either one of the foods in his belly given by either parent would be absolutely fantastic right now, and so the words spilled out of him, still unable to get them quite right, but he knew they would get the message soon enough.

Both of his parents woke.

Rayne felt her son’s hunger creep into her mind. “I’ll take him to eat something.”

Din brought a hand up to the back of her head and pressed his mouth to hers, and she couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss. He held her there for several moments before pulling away. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I need a snack, too. You want anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

She gathered their son in her arms, picked Din’s cloak up from the corner, threw it over her shoulder, and ducked through the curtain separating their room from the galley. She didn’t bother with the lights even when past the curtain; what little of the blue and white ripple of hyperspace that could filter past the flight deck door set a nice mood, and neither mother nor son needed much in the way of illumination anyway.

Frog or yogurt, huh?

Rayne chose the latter, scooped some into a bowl that they could share, and holding the baby on a hip with one hand and carrying their snack in the other, padded barefoot onto the flight deck. She settled into the pilot’s chair, wrapping Din’s cloak around them both to ward off the chill, and let Yadi get to work levitating his own spoon from the bowl to his mouth as hyperspace flowed around them.

They ate in companionable silence, snuggling in the worn cloak that smelled like Din, like wool and leather and beskar and sweat. They eased back into the reunification of their minds, both realizing what they had come to share, understanding that they hadn’t been aware of it until their separation. Yadi pressed closer to his mother even as he continued to eat and gaze out the windscreen, and his mother wrapped her mind a little tighter around his, warm and welcoming.

Rayne felt the question from his mind, not so much in the specific word, but very much in tone. Why?

She sat with it for a while, rubbing her thumb along his back so that he knew she wasn’t ignoring him in her silence, but putting her answer together. The same reason you and Din-buir have been moving around for so long. Someone wants to steal your gift. We’re not sure what he wants to do with it, but we’re pretty sure it’s not good. He took us by surprise. I’m sorry it happened. We’re going to stop him soon. We’re going to make sure he won’t bother us again, and then we’ll be free.

Yadier’s mind brightened, even if his outward expression remained sleepy as he continued to float spoonfuls of yogurt into his mouth. How?

That, kiddo, was an excellent question. Not sure yet, ad’ika. But you’ll know when we figure it out.

Wanna help.

I know. She patted his back. You might just get your chance.

---

The sun beat down on him.

No armor. No helmet.

He had just run a wooden spear through a giant.

But it wasn’t enough.

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

He stalked in circles around the giant, screaming. A language he didn’t understand. A rage borne of insufferable loss and injustice boiling through him. This giant was the cause of it, and the death he had just sentenced him to with a poisoned spear through the heart simply wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

Oh, god, he wanted so much more.

And so he continued in circles, screaming out his rage for all to hear.

His circles drew too close and the giant caught him by the ankle and brought him to the ground. He got back up but it was too late. The giant had him by the neck with one hand and put the other fist through his face.

His teeth exploded out of his mouth in a spray of blood onto the stones.

The giant threw him back to the ground and pinned him down. Pinned his head to the stones and brought his thumbs to his eyes, pressing in and gouging them out-

Din sat up in the dark, screaming.

Rayne pushed herself out of the way, screaming.

Din brought his hands to his face, panicked in the dark, unable to see anything, making sure his eyeballs were still in their sockets, his teeth still in his jaws, his skull still intact.

Rayne sensed his motions, forced her breathing back to normal, hearing his panting breaths. “Hey…” she reached out, warning him of her approach. “Hey… you’re ok. It was just a nightmare.” She put a hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm.

He did not flinch away.

“Ffffffuck,” was all he could say.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Where’s Yadier?”

“He’s…” She reached out. “He went back out to his pod on the flight deck.”

Din fell back to the mattress with a grunt, bringing his hands to his face. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Rayne lay back down with him, draped an arm over his chest, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, thinking it best to stay away from his face for the time being. “Wanna hear something crazy?”

“I dunno…”

“I had the same dream.”

“What?”

“Killing the giant with the spear. Getting pulled down. Teeth knocked out. The… eye… thing.”

“Fuck,” Din breathed out. “Is having other people’s nightmares a thing for you?”

“Not till just now.”

“Did you just… see it, or…”

“I felt as much as I saw.”

He let out a sharp exhale. His mind was spinning. His heart was pounding. He’d not quite gotten used to the idea that his emotions were no longer his own with Rayne in close quarters, especially in the dark, when the helmet was off. Now he couldn’t even keep his nightmares to himself.

Well, if his mind insisted on spilling itself into hers, he might as well go all in.

He rolled to his side, pulled Rayne’s knee over his hip, and pressed his forehead to hers. Waiting. Breathing. She slid her hand up to the back of his head, held him in, threaded her fingers through his hair, and then brought her lips to his.

Everyone was on-board.

Rayne focused on the man before her now, once again reminded of his violence. The hands that had immolated and decapitated a Stormtrooper were the same hands that had applied bacta patches to her skin later on, were the same hands that, at this moment, roamed her body, formed around what few curves she had with a gentle firmness. He was both violent and kind. Both deadly and tender. Even more… he was vulnerable, despite his impenetrable physical defenses. That these things were not mutually exclusive drove her mad with the desire to understand him, to pull him apart so she could best determine how his pieces were supposed to fit back together again, to recognize that some of his bits were damaged beyond repair, and his other parts would have to re-mold to salvage everything else, to make him whole again.

She was a Sentinel to her core. The instinct to fix broken things coursed along with the blood in her veins. Din Djarin, like the ship he owned, was broken in many ways, beaten and abused for decades, and would never return to full function. But, again, like the ship he owned, he was well-built, powerful, and had enough for her to work with. She had a good sense for what could be fixed and what couldn’t. A sense for what was within her abilities to keep them both running. They were both long-term projects, would both require constant care, and would both continue to run well enough if they got it.

For his part, Din’s mind wandered. Which, really, was the point of this moment, so long as it wandered away from what woke him up. His hands wandered over muscle and bone, and his mind wandered back to how fluid Rayne had been in the corridor full of Stormtroopers, in the face of a barrage of oncoming blaster fire. All of her clumsiness dropped away. Nothing but pure Force and strength and grace remained. Not a single shot had gotten by her precognition. The way she had allowed him to read her movements, the perfect screen for him to get his own shots through. The merciless, deadly team they made together. A melding of opposing fighting styles combined to form a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts. With some work, they would complement each other perfectly.

Once again, the notion that the Jedi and the Mandalorians were meant to be united bloomed in his mind.

It could work. What had happened aboard Gideon’s ship proved it.

He focused once more on the Jedi before him. His Jedi. Proud to be her Mandalorian. Once again, they consummated the unification of their people. Oh, he wanted nothing more in this moment than to consummate it over and over, whatever it took to move forward, to leave the horror and pogroms and destruction behind, and to revive his people and hers, and he lost himself in the rush of it all.

---

She listened to him breathe in the dark when they finally pulled apart, draws lengthening as they both relaxed.

She would never get tired of the sound of him breathing without the helmet.

As had become her habit, she slid her hand up his throat to trace the planes and curves of his face. She caught herself at the line of stubble at his jaw when his breath paused, belatedly remembering the nightmare that had led to all this. “May I?” she asked, voice soft in the dark.

He swallowed and relaxed. “Yes.” He was on his back, but he turned his face towards her to give her better access.

She traced a different pattern every time, but he understood the point. You didn’t look at a familiar person to figure out what they looked like. You looked at them because you wanted to see them. He couldn’t let her look. But he would let her see as much as possible.

She ran the back of her knuckles along his jaw. “Getting shaggy.”

“Mm. I’ll shave before we land.”

“How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.” He’d taken the bacta patch off of it before falling asleep and the burn had healed over completely.

“How much fuel did you empty into that guy’s helmet?”

Oh, here we go. “The whole thing.”

“Was that smart?”

“No.” He turned his face away, anger tingeing his voice.

She slid her hand down to his ribs, pulling in as she placed a kiss on his shoulder. “It’s ok to be angry about what he did. I understand that. Just… try not to get carried away with that kind of thing. You don’t know how many other people you’re gonna have to roast in one day.”

He huffed through a smile, admitting to himself that she was right about that one. He reached for her hand, pressed his lips to it, then placed it back against his jaw. “Duly noted.” He turned into her palm. “You’re ok with the severed head?”

This time she huffed a laugh against his shoulder. “I guess if we’re discussing efficient means of sending a message, sure. And I get that… I get that you were… communicating, there.”

“But…”

She took a breath. “One thing the Jedi got right was that if you’re going to kill someone, kill them in cold blood. Don’t let it get too hot. Rage kills are messy. They backfire. I think that’s what your nightmare is about.”

“It’s a warning.”

“Yes.”

He considered it for a moment. The argument was perfectly valid, but it sat oddly on his shoulders. “So when someone beats the shit out of me you’ll kill them with a cool head?”

Another deep breath. “Cool enough to not make a mess of it, yes.”

“And when they do it to Yadier?”

He took some satisfaction in the length of the pause that followed.

“I… may have less success with that. But I’ll try. Just enough to not fuck it up.”

---

The rest of the trip to Nevarro was spent mostly in the dark. Yadier alternated between his pod on the flight deck and with his parents, coming and going as he pleased. Din was surprised that the baby chose to spend as much time on his own as he did. Rayne had a hunch that the flight deck offered better access to the Force, particularly while at hyperspeed. It was no coincidence that the hyperspace lanes followed the veins of the Force, links between worlds used to hold and bind the galaxy together. The flight deck’s transparisteel canopy was less opaque to it than the rest of the ship’s hull, and Rayne suspected that Yadier used the opportunity to soak it all up. Having his parents spending more time up on the same deck made it easier for him to get back and forth, so returning to it after checking in with them became his habit. He was growing more secure. And in that security, was gaining the courage to explore.

Rayne mostly slept, still wiped out from the interrogation and bacta-phrine shot.

Din circulated, depending on what the other two were doing. Yadier usually seemed to crawl into bed with them just as Rayne was drifting off, so Din would take the opportunity to rest with them. On the occasions that his enemy sorcerer son was asleep on the flight deck and his Jedi was asleep in their room, he would drift down to the hold, sit at the table, and continue to read the Mandalorian history files that Reesha had given him.

The material within was… sobering.

The Siege was, of course, more complex than the slaughter of Mandalorians by the Republic that Gideon had implied. It was as much Mandalorian versus Mandalorian as it was Death Watch versus the last vestiges of the Republic as it mutated into the Empire. Hell, Death Watch itself was split through the middle, and Din hadn’t quite yet figured out which side he came down on.

If either.

It was all very confusing.

It was hard not knowing quite which group of people he wanted to kill.

He could only take it in small doses.

So when reading got to be too much, he blew off the steam with the drills that had kept him company for all the years of solitude he had spent on the Razor Crest. Hauling himself up on the pull-up bar. Crunches. Burpees. Whatever it took to wear himself out. Then he would stretch, shower it all off, and head back up the ladder.

If he found Rayne awake and on her own, he would go along with whatever she was up for. They both seemed unusually… handsy in these hours. He chalked it up to the recent Imperial entanglement and had no complaints. He allowed himself to appreciate her desire for close contact, mostly without any particular goal, mostly just necking in the dark. He supposed it made sense. They’d gotten straight down to business after knowing each other for only a few days, had been at it for a month and change, but had been unable to do any proper kissing until recently. Having the opportunity to take the time to just… take things easy… was nice.

It did, of course, sometimes lead to more, and that was nice too.

And so the clan of Rollins-Djarin recharged their batteries.

---

Din and Rayne strolled from the Razor Crest through the gate to Nevarro City.

Yadier let out a low groan and pushed himself all the way to the back of his pod, ears flat against his shoulders.

This was not his favorite place.

“I know, buddy,” Rayne dropped a hand into the pod to let him take her finger for a moment, recalling all that Din had told her about what happened here. “We won’t stay long.”

She looked over the pod to Din, noticing the same swagger he always took on for any walk longer than a few meters, feeling his eyes scan the crowd without turning his head. He seemed… tense, but ok, all things considered. No barely-contained rage. No endless repetitions of dar’manda pounding through his head.

They stepped through the entrance of the cantina to see Cara slam a man’s face into the bar. They paused to let her finish her business as she got down into the guy’s face for a conversation.

“Oh my god,” Rayne breathed. “She’s magnificent.”

Something about her tone made Din look at her askance. “Should I be jealous?”

“She could snap me in half if I wasn’t Force-sensitive.” She swallowed. “She might still be able to snap me in half.”

“Should I be jealous?” he repeated.

She smiled and winked. “Maybe.”

He smiled to himself as he led her down the rest of the steps.

It was the wise Mandalorian man who surrounded himself with women who could kick his ass.

Releasing the last of her troublemakers for the day, Cara turned to greet them with a smile. “Hey kiddo,” she ducked and waved into the pod. “Mando.” Rayne watched as they clasped hands soldier-style. “You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

Din tiled his head. “Rayne’s good at putting things back together.”

Rayne raised her hand for the same clasp and received it, returning Cara’s unsurprisingly firm grip. “I’ve heard good things.”

Cara lifted an eyebrow. “They’re all lies. I like your ink, though.”

Din had advised Rayne to wear a sleeveless shirt to show off the Rebel Starbird on her shoulder, and seeing a smaller version of it on Cara’s cheek, she understood why. She lifted her chin to indicate her acknowledgement of it. “X-wing mechanic on a carrier,” she said, answering the unasked question. “Mando said you were a shock trooper.”

“I was.”

“Karga’s not in today?” Din asked.

“He’s expanded his entrepreneurial activities since the Imps left,” Cara said. “He’ll be around this afternoon if you want to see him.”

“Not particularly. Hear anything from the covert?”

Cara shook her head.

Din dipped his chin. “I’ll go check in. I shouldn’t be long.”

The glance that he shared with Rayne was a short one, but Cara did not miss it.

The Mandalorian left, leaving the baby and two war veterans to settle into a booth in the back corner. Cara sat across from Rayne and fixed her with a look. “So. You and Mando, huh?”

“Yep.” Rayne kept her tone and expression mild, unsure of the lay of the land, remembering Cara’s attempt to aid Din as transmitted to her by Yadier, remembering Din’s keen sense of rejection when mentioning how Cara had said she would stay here. She nodded her thanks to the server as their drinks, straight whiskey for both, were placed on the table.

“See the goods yet?”

Rayne shrugged. “From the neck down.”

Cara let out an approving snort. “He’s out of his goddamn mind. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Cara’s eyes narrowed. This Rayne character sure didn’t look like much. She was easily a few inches shorter and a few years older than Cara. What she had seemed solid enough, but she only had a medium build, at best. Still, looks could be deceiving, and Mando had mentioned her abilities at both kicking ass and managing the baby. Mando’s judgment wasn’t always the best, though. “What makes you think you can handle what he dishes out?”

Rayne was half-way through a sip of her drink. “Oh…” she paused, considering, took a quick look around to make sure they had no one’s attention, then dropped her hand from the glass. The glass itself remained in the air, hovering, perfectly still, until Rayne lowered it back to the table. “Just a hunch.”

“Shit…” Cara whispered. “Oh, shit.” She took a slow pull from her own drink. “You’re just like the kid.”

Rayne laughed at that one. “No.” She dropped a hand down to the pod, sitting on the seat below the table, to run a finger along one of the baby’s ears. “He’s a lot more powerful than I am. But we are of the same kind.” She brought her hand back up to the table, considering the guarded anxiety radiating from the woman before her. “Look… a lot has changed for us over the last month and a half. Mando’s not always great about saying everything that needs to be said, and I’m not always great about picking up on social cues. If I’ve stepped on any toes here, I’m sorry…”

Now it was Cara’s turn to laugh. “No, it’s not like that. It’s…” She wasn’t quite sure how to say it without sounding like an asshole.

Rayne took a guess. “He has a tendency to get in over his head and you want to make sure I can handle myself when it happens.”

Cara let out a sigh of relief. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.”

“That’s fair,” Rayne said. “And the answer is yes. I can.”

At that moment, a large silver bearing floated up from Yadier’s pod in Cara’s direction, and she snapped it out of the air before it cleared the top of the table and anyone could see it. “What’s this?”

Rayne smiled. “A peace offering.” She brought a hand to her own throat. “He’s sorry about what happened last time. He didn’t understand.”

Cara let out a sigh, taking her own turn to dip her hand down to the pod and give the baby a playful boop on the nose. “He saved my life. He saved all of our lives. We’re square.”

By the time Din returned twenty minutes later, the war vets were well into their third round, debating the merits of ground assault vs. blowing shit up from the air with an X-wing. They stopped mid-conversation as he stood at the head of the table, a meter-and-a-half length of steel rod in his hand.

“Time to go?” Rayne asked.

“Yes.”

The women downed their drinks, Rayne paid up, Cara ducked into the back office to retrieve and enormous gun and a small bag, and they left.

Rayne noticed that Din’s swagger was not nearly so pronounced on the way out as it was on the way in. She waited until they were through the gate and the crowd had thinned out significantly before voicing her question. “What was up at the covert?”

“Nothing,” Din said. “Everything is cleared out. No one was there. All I found was this.” He hefted the rod in his left hand.

“Is that made out of what I think it is?” Rayne asked.

“Yes.”

“Then we can use it to spar with my lightsaber. You need the practice.”

He gave a brief nod.

---

Back into hyperspace again. Their course set to a blank space on the map until they could figure things out.

Cara took a look around the Razor Crest. Not a whole lot had changed, aside from the lack of blurrgs in the hold and the fact that what used to be Mando’s bunk was now full of gear. Either Rayne’s sense of gunship decorum matched Mando’s, or if it was different, she didn’t see fit to force change on him.

For some reason, that made Cara happy. It shouldn’t have been surprising, really. Rayne was as much retired military as Cara was, even if in the more official “honorable discharge” capacity, as opposed to “AWOL.” The Crest was originally a military ship, and Mando had mostly kept it as such. Cargo nets along the interior of the hull, gear stowed so it was out of the way but easily at-hand, everything in its place, personal effects out of sight, if they existed at all.

It didn’t look like a home to a family, but this was no ordinary family.

This was a family on the run. Holding its breath. Not quite sure about what was holding it together.

But a family nonetheless.

Cara watched as Mando and Rayne moved about the ship, able to keep out of each other’s way even in the cramped spaces, or at the very least, being more than comfortable in each other’s space. Not in an outwardly affectionate way, but with an easy tolerance afforded to each other that would not be afforded to others.

Once all the gear was stowed and Din dropped the ship out of hyperspace to drift, he joined Rayne and Cara at the table. Yadier reached for him upon arrival with a plaintive “buir,” so he held his arms out as Rayne handed the baby over. Snuggled to his satisfaction, Cara watched as Yadi slid the Mythosaur pendant into his mouth.

The pendant Mando had pressed into her hands with his dying breaths. The pendant she had tied around the child herself.

“So. We need a plan,” Din said.

“Back up,” Cara said. “I want to know how Gideon caught up to you over Takodana. Does he have fobs on you? Is he tracking the Razor Crest?”

Rayne shook her head. “I built scramblers for Din, Yadi, and the ship, and-”

“Wait,” Cara interrupted. “You can do that? Jam a fob?”

“I can do that, yeah.” Rayne brushed it off like it wasn’t important. “I checked the Crest over when we landed on Nevarro. It’s clean. I think Gideon just put the pieces together. I abandoned a profitable business at the same time Din was sighted on the planet. I erased my shop records of Din and the Crest before we left, but every place else he’s taken it to would’ve had it on their books. I have a recorded history of wins at Methuselah. He probably took a guess about what I was when he figured out I got something the size of the Crest through the asteroid belt there. He seemed hung up about that. God… if the Jawas were still there when he showed up and he managed to get anything out of them…” She paused for a moment, horrified at the thought, then pressed forward. “He probably guessed I’d go to ground after that, which meant Coruscant and Takodana.” She paused again, thinking back to her interrogation, wishing she’d done more to probe Gideon while she’d had the chance. She’d just been so wrecked from getting gassed, bashed in the face, and tortured that it hadn’t occurred to her. Still… “I didn’t get the sense that he knew exactly where we’d be. He seemed really smug with himself that he’d managed to find us.”

“What kind of state did you leave his ship in?”

“We blew up the lab,” Din said. “Disabled the guns and tractor beam long enough to get away, but they’ve probably fixed that by now. Hid charges on the reactor but didn’t detonate them. Rayne wanted to wait for a more opportune time.”

Cara smiled. “You might just get the chance, assuming they didn’t find the charges.”

Din tilted his head. “What’ve you got?”

“I might have caught a former Stormtrooper who tried passing himself off as a Guild hunter.” Din snorted. It was the closest Cara had ever heard him come to a laugh. “I know, right? Anyway, I might have almost crushed his skull before he spilled a few beans. Turns out Gideon is based on Ilum.”

“What?” Rayne burst out. Din twitched, knowing he recognized the name, but not quite remembering why.

“You’re familiar with it?” Cara asked.

“It’s where we… where the Jedi would go as Younglings to find our kyber crystals. It was a holy place for us. Then the Empire mined the shit out of it to create the Death Stars. You can see the trench they dug out of it from orbit. Like, distant orbit. They desecrated it.”

Din slid his foot next to Rayne’s. For him to hear her use words like holy and desecrated, when she had otherwise largely tossed the spiritual aspects of the religion she was raised with out the window decades ago, was nothing sort of surreal.

Cara, whose home world had been desecrated to the point of destruction by the very weapon built out of Ilum, took Rayne’s reaction more in stride. “Yeah. Gideon’s there for the kyber. The Vibre ship he picked you guys up with is just his daily driver. He has a Star Destroyer for when he needs to move a lot of resources around.”

Din felt his gut tie itself into a knot. Gideon’s knowledge of Mandalorian records, possession of the Darksaber, obsession with Yadier’s Force abilities, collection of Force-sensitive DNA, Force resistance training, and now this business with Jedi holy ground… Din knew he was on to something with the unification of the Mandalorian and Jedi people. Gideon, though… Gideon was on to something with the unification of Mandalorian and Jedi weaponry.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

“Cara, did you notice the shape Gideon’s troopers were in, compared to other Imperial remnants?” he asked.

“Yeah. Armor was kept up well. Tight formations. Sheer volume. To say nothing of the E-web and the TIE fighter, and now this whole Star Destroyer. He has a lot of resources.”

“That Vibre was in good shape, too,” Rayne said. “Gideon is more than just a remnant. He’s a resurgence.”

Din hated to say what he said next. “Is this big enough to bring in the New Republic?”

“Prrrobably,” Cara said.

“Will your chain code hold up with them now?”

“Prrrobably.”

Rayne frowned. “Gideon would run. He doesn’t want a fair fight. He only shows up when he thinks he can crush his opponent outright. He’ll duck out if we show up with a carrier full of X-wings. And then he’ll just come after us again when we’re alone.”

Din slumped back with a sigh that acknowledged the truth to her words. “We can’t just bait him, then. We have to look compromised.”

Cara cracked a smile that nearly split her face in half. “That’s the best kind of bait. Here’s an idea…”

---

They shared. They plotted. They revealed themselves. They revised accordingly.

It was risky.

God, it was so risky.

They could all die horrible deaths.

Or they could finally be free.

---

When the plan was fully hatched, Din said, “If something happens to me, the armor belongs to Yadier. Helmet. Everything.”

Rayne gave a slow nod, coming to the realization that if she was to see his face in the near future, he would have to die first. It hurt too much to think about, so she set it aside for the time being. “If we manage to get the Darksaber?”

“Yadier’s.”

“Zavin has access to my account,” Rayne continued in the same vein. “He already has instructions to give you whatever you need for Yadier. Just let him know.”

“And if you both manage to bite it?” Cara asked.

Rayne and Din looked at each other, coming to a silent agreement.

“I’ll show you were we hid the coordinates Maz gave us,” Rayne said. “Take Yadier there first. If that doesn’t work out, take him back to Coruscant. Zavin and Reesha will take him and have the resources to keep looking for his people. They would welcome your help as well, if you’d be interested.”

“Good plan,” Cara said.

“And if you bite it?” Din asked.

Cara shrugged. “Tell Karga he’ll need a new enforcer.”

That settled, Din faced Rayne, catching her attention. “A moment on the flight deck, please?”

“Sure.”

He nodded in Cara’s direction to excuse their absence, and she raised her glass in dismissal.

Rayne leaned back on the console as Din slid the door closed behind him, then placed a snoozing Yadier in his pod on the starboard jump seat. “What’s up?” she asked.

He took a deep breath, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bulkhead, attempting to keep as much distance between them as possible. “We’re making end-of-life arrangements, here.”

“Seems that way, yeah.”

“Then you should know that you don’t know me like you think you do.” His tone was blunt. Hard.

Ah, here he was. She was wondering if he would show up again. The little boy who rejected the six families who tried to take him in. He’d popped up briefly as the man who had drawn his blaster against her as she lay cornered in the bunk. He’d popped up again as the man who led her along the lakeshore to protest his sudden acquiescence to friendship. Now here he was again, once more backing her into a corner in an effort to push her away, menacing and surly, brought about by a threat to some definition of himself flipping that switch in his brain that turned him from an almost-reasonable person into an asshole. She lifted an eyebrow. “What else do I need to know?”

“If it comes between me and Yadier, choose him.”

“Of course.” Any parent would.

“If it comes between me and you, choose you.”

“This feels like a confession,” Rayne said.

“Because it is.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

Another sigh, a dip of the chin, but no words.

“Anything worse than selling a baby to Imps?” Might as well set the bar high to start with.

“I… don’t know actually. There’s… days were I don’t remember how I got from Point A to Point B, but there’d be a lot of bodies between them. Not all of them deserved it. Collateral damage. I can’t tell you if I put them there or not.”

Blackouts apparently were a thing for him, then. Another thing she’d asked him about point-blank that he’d evaded. Between this and the head injury, she actually had the beginnings of a list. “But chances are pretty good that you did.”

“Yes. And I didn’t care.”

“Are you asking for my forgiveness?”

“No. But you should know who I really am.”

“Are you still that person?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you want to be a better person?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does collateral damage bother you now?”

He thought of the covert. It had never exactly thrived, but it had once been full of life. Then it was full of empty armor. Today it was just… empty. Because of what he had done. “Yes.”

Rayne shrugged. “In a civilized world, I’d be in prison a few times over. We don’t live in a civilized world. We could stand here all night and drag truth out of each other. We both have our dark places. The only thing we can really do is learn from them and move forward. That work for you?”

It sounded lame, but what else was there? “It’ll have to.”

Unable to pick a fight with Rayne, he went back down to the hold to try his hand with Cara.

She had disassembled the repeater gun and was cleaning it when he walked through to the weapons locker. The gun she had used against their previous encounter with the Imps. The gun that was Mando’s to begin with. He hadn’t asked for it back, had left it with her on purpose, a meager payment for all she had done for him and his son. “Everything good up there?” she asked.

“Yes.” He opened the locker and stared inside for a moment, looking for something to polish, looking for something to take the edge off of the anxiety running through him.

Cara seemed to sense it, seemed to understand that the pressure valve needed to be released. She was more than happy to poke around at it. “You two seem close. What’s it been? A couple of months?”

“Almost, yeah.”

“Your son likes her.” She had not forgotten the Armorer’s clan designations.

“He does.” He picked up a small blaster, turning it over in his hands. “Our son,” he corrected. “She adopted him.”

“Wow. That was fast.”

He put the blaster back in its place and turned to face her. “He wanted her to be his mother.”

“You agree with his choice?”

“Yes.”

“So you keep the helmet on when you bone her, or what?”

Instead of answering, he stepped into her space. “You had your chance. You knew I was going to ask you to come with me and you cut me off before I could do it.” And he realized that was it. What had really been bothering him since they picked her up. “Why did you stay on Nevarro?”

She rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You really haven’t figured it out?”

“Apparently not.”

She pointed a finger and drilled it into the center of his chestplate, pushing him back a step. “I saw you when you were almost dead. I still have nightmares of your blood all over my hands. You wanna know what I saw?”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me.”

Her frown deepened as she sunk her fingers into the cowl at his throat and twisted the material into her fist. “I saw a man who thought having a warrior’s death was more important than that little boy having a father.” Her voice shook with rage. “I saw a man choose his religion over that little boy for the second time. You did it when you sold him for the beskar, and you did it again when you abandoned him for your Creed. I have a lot of fights in me, Mando, but I can’t fight that kind of insanity. You are out of your damned mind, and I will not watch you let yourself die ever again.”

Din stood before her, helpless against the truth of her words. “I was wrong.”

Her grip on him loosened in surprise, then tightened again. That was too easy. “What?”

“You’re right. My priorities were wrong.”

Her grip and expression loosened once more, but just a little. “What happened?”

“Turns out the Mandalorians who rescued me were the same ones who staged the attack on my village in the first place. Droids killed my parents. But they were programmed by the Mandalorians to do it.”

She let go of him entirely, her face a mix of shock and sorrow, instantly recognizing the implications. “I’m… god… I’m sorry.” He had nearly thrown his life away for a Creed that had destroyed it in the first place. “You’re still serious about the helmet?”

“I’ve been… re-evaluating.” It was only half of a lie. The full truth was that, after a lifetime of hiding, after discovering what he really was, he was too much of a coward to take it off.

“Does this mean I get to take it off if necessary?”

“If it’s necessary to save my life, yes. Try it otherwise, and I’ll kill you.”

“You suddenly sound so reasonable.”

He shrugged, turning back to the locker, waiting a beat before responding. “Helmet comes off in the dark. When I bone her.”

Cara snorted a laugh. “That was too much information.”

“You asked.”

She shook her head, returning to the gun spread out on the table. “You need to learn about rhetorical questions, Mando.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” His tone was light. He allowed himself another few moments before he continued. “You can call me by my real name. When we’re not… out.”

That gave her pause. She had found herself startled when Rayne spoke it earlier. The word had come out of Mando’s companion so easily that it was obvious that she was used to saying it. That it came naturally to her. “Is that what you want?”

His back was still turned to her, but that was ok. “Gideon calls me by name every chance he gets. I’d rather hear it more often from my friends than from my enemies.”

“Ok. Then you need to learn about rhetorical questions, Din.” God, that felt weird.

“Just showing you how reasonable I’ve gotten.”

“Oh yeah? And what happens when you get Yadier settled with his people? If I’m reading this right, I’m guessing Rayne will stay with him. You gonna leave her like you left Omera?”

Goddammit, she was worse than Zavin. It wasn’t the same, and she knew it. She was baiting him. Still, he took a measured breath, and when the answer came out of him, he was almost as surprised by it as she was. “I’ll stay if I can.”

---

They ducked back to Nevarro for a quick stop at one of the cities closer to the southern polar region to pick up some cold-weather gear. Then they set course for Ilum.

They set Cara up with a bunk in the corner of the hold, and once again, she made herself at home on Din’s ship.

It was a lot quieter this time around, with three blurrgs, an Ugnaught, and a droid swapped out for a Force-sensitive war veteran. Quiet enough that as the veterans started in on the bottle of whiskey stashed in the galley, they could hear Din as he read to Yadier up on the flight deck until the baby fell asleep, then in the fresher as he showered and brushed his teeth. Cara put her whiskey down the wrong pipe when Din wandered back out wearing nothing but his helmet, shorts, and a T-shirt, towel thrown over his shoulder.

His arms and legs were bare.

She had seen his blood before, had it all over her hands, but until now, had never seen so much as a sliver of his skin. His tan from Methuselah was fading, but everything not covered was still a light shade of golden brown.

Finally, full confirmation that he really was just a man under all the armor.

He was leaner than she thought he would be, until she remembered how he was lighter than she expected when she’d dragged him from the battlefield at Nevarro. Without the rest of his armor, the helmet made him look almost bobble-headed; too big for the rest of him. Looking at him now, she couldn’t believe how he’d managed to fight her to a draw back on Sorgan. She should’ve laid him out flat, given his size.

Cara’s eyes caught the beskar casing that hung at his throat, replacing the Mythosaur skull that now belonged to Yadier, the leather string it hung on still wet from the shower. Rayne wore a similar one. Cara didn’t know quite what it meant, but it was obvious that things had moved with a fair amount of speed since she and Din had parted ways.

The way Rayne looked at him like nothing was amiss, like it was normal to see him without being covered in beskar, without a weapon strapped to his hip, without ammunition draped across his chest or wrapped around his leg, once again drove it home; he had opened the door and let the Jedi in.

And Cara realized she had done the exact same thing. She had told Rayne all about where she’d been and how she’d taken it when Alderaan had been destroyed. About how she had joined and then left the Resistance. It had all come so easily. And Rayne had just… listened. Had measured out just enough booze for the both of them to strike the right balance between loosening up just enough but not too much. She’d shared enough about herself to keep it going, about her escape from the Jedi temple, about her late husband and subsequent discharge from the Resistance forces. These were not the kinds of conversations Cara had with people she’d known for less than a day. That’s not how she worked.

And yet, here she was.

Din and Rayne turned in for the night.

The Razor Crest was indeed quiet, but the hyperdrive engine had its own ambient hum. Situated as a solid-state slab, it was sandwiched between the upper and lower decks of the ship, and it dissipated any noise that would otherwise conduct between the space behind the galley above and the hold below.

There was, however, the matter of the hole in the floor just behind the flight deck.

And so it was that two small sounds, a short gasp followed by a low groan, sounds that would have meant nothing in isolation but were incriminated by their proximity, gave it all away to Cara’s ear late in the night.

The stab of jealousy she expected did not come.

She had to admit that her feelings for Din were highly… ambivalent. There was a lot to like about an honorable warrior, but Din’s brand of honor had more twists and turns than she felt safe with navigating. She’d watched him fall for Omera. He’d fallen hard. She understood his logic for leaving and she would’ve felt bad about her jab against him earlier had it not been for the fact that he’d not even asked about Omera when he’d come back to Sorgan. Even when Cara had brought her up earlier today, he evaded the issue all together, like she was no longer on his radar. Even if he was reconsidering now, his prioritization of the Creed over his son still left a gaping wound in her heart. And the way he had spoken of him to the Armorer… you wish me to train this thing? You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature… His tone had held more ice than she ever could have imagined. This thing… this creature… His absolute detachment in that moment from the little boy he had fought so long and so hard to protect made her skin crawl.

She remembered the pain in his tone when she headed him off, telling him she’d stay on Nevarro. The broken sound of his reply. You’re staying here? She knew she’d hurt him, but he’d left her no choice. She could not bear the weight of whatever kind of baggage it was that made him pull the kind of shit he pulled with Omera and Yadier on her own heart.

She would stand by his side. She would fight for his causes. In those actions, she knew she could trust him.

But she would not live with him. She would not love him. Not in that way. Not when he was so obviously prone to abandoning the ones he loved.

She really, really hoped Rayne knew what she was doing.

If Din abandoned Rayne, Cara might just kill him herself.

---

Once again, Rayne was unable to sleep.

She reached for Din’s cloak folded in the corner, padded out to the galley, pulled the whiskey back out from its hiding spot along with a glass, and continued on to the flight deck, bathed in the blue and white ripple of hyperspace. Yadier was sound asleep in his pod on the starboard jump seat, so she wrapped the cloak around herself, settled into the port seat, poured out a shot, sat back, and tried to dull her senses.

Din woke up alone, understanding what it meant.

He slipped the helmet on, and went to the galley. Finding the whiskey missing from its place, he grabbed a glass instead, and was unsurprised to find Rayne on the flight deck. She looked up at his arrival but made no sound, a mutual head-tilt enough of a greeting for both of them. He swiveled the pilot seat around so it faced the exit, moved Yadier’s pod to it with the practiced gentleness of a father not wishing to wake his child, poured himself a shot from the bottle placed on the console, and set it by the now-vacated starboard jump seat. He stood there for a moment, naked but for his helmet and shorts, feeling the chill against his skin, and ducked out. He returned a few seconds later with the blanket from their bed and slid the door shut.

Rayne watched as he dimmed the lights on the console and adjusted the transparency of the canopy. When he thought he had it right, he turned back to the outline of her form. “How’s that?”

“Shadows only.”

He lifted the helmet off, placed it on the console, reached out for her hand, and let her guide him to her. He sank to his knees, pulled her knees around his ribs, slid a hand around the back of her head, let her pull him in, and pressed his mouth to hers.

Things could go very, very wrong tomorrow.

Part of him wondered if this would be their last night, wondered if what he had given her earlier was enough, wondered if there was anything he was supposed to say. Her hands came up to once again trace the lines of his face and he had the sudden urge to turn the lights on, show her what he really was, give her the chance to back out and leave him, leave them, go back to her previous life as if the last month and a half hadn’t happened.

Run, his mind screamed at her. Run away. Before I get you killed, too.

“Stop that shit,” she whispered against his cheek. “Am I a part of this family or not?”

“You know you are,” he whispered back, his voice broken.

“Then let me fight for it.”

Something in his chest tightened, threatened to crush him. He was so tired of the swings his brain put him through, one moment wanting nothing more than to shove her away for her own good, the next wanting nothing more than to fall into her for his own selfishness. The things he wanted to feel… the things he wanted to say… too horrifying in their unattainableness, things he did not deserve and dared not to ask for. She had already volunteered her life for him. Wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t he just accept that as being enough?

The first time he’d gone up against Gideon, he’d almost lost his life. The second time, she’d almost lost hers.

What would the third time bring?

He wanted so much to make her promise not to push it too hard tomorrow. To promise that his son would still have a mother tomorrow. He knew he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t promise the same in return; that her son would still have a father. She, as a Jedi, could not make that promise to him. He, as a Mandalorian, could not make that promise to her.

“Do you have any idea…” he whispered. Any idea what this is doing to me?

“I do,” she said, and she brought his hands to her face. His thumbs brushed against the tears that streamed from her eyes. She did, because she felt the same.

They both lost it, inasmuch as warriors allow themselves to do so, silent, shuddering sobs, fingers threaded through hair, fearing not of their own deaths, but for the loss of the other, for the possibility of once again orphaning the small, green baby who had become their son.

The tide ebbed, and Din once more became aware of the chill against his skin, the deck hard against his knees. He stood with a grunt, pressed his lips against Rayne’s for one more moment, then stepped to the waiting glass of whiskey and downed it in one go. He poured himself another, then wrapped himself up in the blanket he’d brought out and settled into the starboard jump seat. He watched hyperspace ripple over the canopy of his ship, listened to the hyperdrive hum along, pushing them all through the split between space and time. He thought about what Rayne had said about the hyperspace lanes following the paths of the Force. “What do you see,” he asked her in the dim light, “when you can’t sleep?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Depends. Usually nothing informative. Lately nothing but Stormtroopers. Waves and waves of Stormtroopers.”

He considered the glass in his hand. Considered the last time he’d gotten himself absolutely shitfaced, just a handful of days ago. Considered how much he’d seen Rayne put away without it seeming to affect her as much as it should have. He realized he had no idea if that ability stemmed from enemy sorcery-enabled liver function, years of alcohol abuse, or both. He recalled Zavin’s comment about her previous poor habits following Hayes’s death. He wondered if the Force buffered her from it, drove her to it, or both. “Does drinking help?”

“A little.”

About as self-aware of an answer as he could expect, at the moment.

They sat in companionable silence for a while longer, the weight of exhaustion pulling the lids down over his eyes. When he could no longer ignore the call of the bed behind him, he hauled himself out of his seat, collected the bottle and classes, took them to the galley, then came back out to the flight deck. “I have an idea,” he said as he picked his helmet up off of the console, voice quiet. Instead of putting it on, he leaned back against the console, facing Rayne, and she watched his silhouette as he flipped through the configurations of the latches on its side. “Visor’s blacked out,” he said, handing it to her.

“What?” She reached out to accept the helmet, unsure of what she was supposed to do with it.

“Beskar is Force-opaque at long-range. Might help you sleep.”

She held the helmet in her hands, the object of her discomfort since they had met, helmets of similar purpose being the object of her nightmares since the age of ten. “You want me to put your helmet on.”

“Only if you want to try it. Just to sleep in. See if it keeps the Stormtroopers out of your head.”

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and slipped it over her head.

Complete darkness, as he had warned with the blacked out visor.

Complete blindness, as would be expected of the beskar.

She could not sense Din or Yadier, despite the fact that they were right there in front of her.

For the first time in her life, she was cut off from the Force. Isolated. Alone in her own head. The ambient hum of the galaxy’s chatter suddenly absent from her mind. Blind. Deaf. Numb. Caught in the free-fall zero G of space.

“Hey.” Din’s voice brought her back. “You ok?”

She turned to where she thought he was, and he was half-amused at, for the first time ever, how far off she was. “It’s terrible in here.”

The sound of her voice through the modulator shocked both of them, drawing a huff of a laugh from Din. “It takes some getting used to.”

She took a moment to try to settle into it, reminding herself that he’d spent the vast majority of his life locked in this thing, reminding herself that her face was, at this very moment, where his had been for so long. “Has anyone else worn this thing?”

“No.”

This space had been his and his alone for more than thirty years, and now he was sharing it with her.

Trying to help her.

“Ok.”

“Come back to bed?” he asked.

“Ok.”

He returned the console lights and canopy transparency to their previous settings, turned the pilot chair so Yadier was facing forward, gathered the blanket, and guided Rayne back to their room. Guided her through her darkness as she had guided him through his first night without the helmet on Coruscant. He helped her get settled, showed her how to adjust the pillow so it worked with the helmet instead of against it, and then pressed his forehead against hers, appreciating the cold steel against his skin, appreciating the role reversal, appreciating her willingness to try.

She lay still for ten minutes, alone in her own head, cut off from the rest of the galaxy, her head trapped in a can, until she could stand it no longer. She pulled it off. “I can’t,” she said, gasping for air. “I can’t…”

“Okay…” he said, relieving her of it and placing it back next to his side of the bed. “Too much?”

“Too much of nothing,” she said as she allowed him to pull her back against him, as she pressed into him as he spooned around her. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does,” he whispered, holding her as her trembling subsided. “I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

“It was worth a shot,” she said, taking his hand and pressing his knuckles to her lips. “Thank you for trying.”

Sleep eventually claimed them.

Din was right about one thing, though.

It would be their last night in this bed for the foreseeable future.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

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wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Life Support

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, toxic relationship (?)

A/N: hello! happy reading <3

anon requested: Hi! Can I please request Nat always being on missions 24/7 and not spending time w reader and reader understands at first but after being constantly alone she finally confronts Nat when she’s getting ready to leave again so reader says “if you walk out of that door we’re done” then “please don’t walk out of that door” then Nat walks out so then they’re broken up. Sorry if it’s too specific💕

Summary: All good things must come to an end.

Word Count: 2K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

If there was one thing you were certain of, it was this; dating an Avenger wasn’t easy.

You were in a relationship with Natasha Romanoff, and have been for the better part of two years now. At first, everything had been absolutely incredible. The redhead would come to your apartment every night, her body entangled with yours beneath your bedsheets. You would wake up to Natasha sleeping soundly beside you, her arms wrapped around your waist as she held you close. Her warm breath would fan against the side of your neck as you took in her features.

Natasha would slowly stir awake, her eyes moving side-to-side behind her closed eyelids before fluttering open. She would be met with your wide smile shining down at her, your fingers slowly combing through her tresses. The redhead would pull you down by the neck, placing a tender kiss against your lips.

When she pulled back from the kiss, her eyes would travel down to your neck and admire the dark purple marks that were littered across your skin. It was exhilarating to her, knowing that you were hers. Natasha felt a sense of pride and couldn’t resist a smirk from taking over her face.

You would cook breakfast in the kitchen while Natasha sat on the counter, ranting about the events of the day before. Your laughs filling the space as she mimicked Steve and Tony’s voices, mocking their ridiculous arguments. Eventually, the redhead would hop off of the counter and come up behind you, her front pressed against your back as she held you by the waist.

Once the food was cooked, you would sit on Natasha’s lap at the table, your hands linked behind the back of her neck. She would eat and occasionally feed you, holding the spoon up to your mouth and purposely missing your mouth, effectively getting food on your face. Natasha would laugh as an annoyed look would cross your face, a pout gracing your lips.

The Russian would wipe off the food with the pad of her thumb, sucking it off of her digit before kissing your pouty lips. She wouldn’t stop kissing you until your pout was replaced with a smile. You were in euphoria each time Natasha would visit, but all good things must come to an end.

A feeling of sadness would wash over you each time she would walk out the door, unsure of when she’d return. Seeing her leave never got any easier. All you wanted to do was beg her to stay in your arms, but you knew that wasn’t an option.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You weren’t the only person that needed Natasha and you understood that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Despite the feeling of despair that would creep into your chest, you never complained. You were aware of how selfish it would seem if you were to even so much as bring up the topic of Natasha staying for longer than a night. She was a vital part of the Avengers, a team that saved the world from threats on a daily.

You had handled the arbitrariness of Natasha’s profession pretty well and settled for it. Having Natasha in your life occasionally was a lot better than not having her at all. However, there was only so much you could take. And one night, you had finally had enough.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

For the past six months, you had seen Natasha a total of ten times. It seemed as if she had been taking on more missions that varied in their durations. She was gone for weeks at a time and wouldn’t contact you the entire time, unaware of when she was due to return. You would only find out when she was back home when she was already knocking at your front door.

To say you missed Natasha would be the understatement of the century; you missed her like fucking crazy.

You would spend the weeks she was away, sleeping in bed alone as you clutched her pillow close to your chest. You practically lived in the sweaters she left at your apartment, the faint smell of her perfume lingering on the articles of clothing. The day you realized her scent had faded, you almost burst out into tears.

It made you feel disgusted with yourself. You were waiting around like a lost puppy, desperate for Natasha’s return. You couldn’t focus at work either. Your thoughts were focused on Natasha.

Will she come home soon? Is she okay? Is the mission she’s on super dangerous? Is she not replying to your texts because she’s busy or because she isn’t alive to do so? Or what if she had been home and just didn’t care to see you? What if she didn’t love you anymore?

These questions circulated your mind in each time of Natasha’s absence. You knew that you had to confront her, but didn’t know how to go about the situation. What? Are you supposed to go up to her and say ‘Stop saving the world to spend time with me’? Obviously fucking not.

The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous you felt. Natasha was out risking her life for humanity and here you were, moping over not being able to see her. Pathetic.

Regardless of how absurd you thought your concerns were, they didn’t stop you from finally confronting your never-present girlfriend.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You had been sat on the couch when a knock sounded at the door. You immediately sprang up and rushed toward the door, hoping to see the woman that’s been plaguing your mind. To your surprise, you were met with red locks and green eyes shining with joy.

You had to fight the urge to leap into her arms and shower her face with little kisses. Natasha’s happiness turned to confusion when you wordlessly moved to the side, giving her some room to enter. The sound of her heavy combat boots hitting the hardwood floor resounded throughout your apartment.

You shut the door slowly, leaning your forehead against it with a sigh. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to confront the woman if you laid eyes on her. Natasha had you wrapped around her finger and you couldn’t help but feel like she capitalized on your weakness at times.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, moya lyubov (my love)?” Natasha’s raspy voice met your ears and you let out a shaky breath. “The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong IS what’s wrong.” Your voice came out small and you couldn’t see it, but Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You heard her footsteps approaching you and you quickly turned around, coming face-to-face with your girlfriend, “What are you talking about?” Natasha’s hands moved up to cup your cheeks, but you swatted her hands away.

“You’re never here, Natasha. That is what I’m talking about.” You walked past her and paced around the living room. The redhead was glued to her spot, her eyes following your every move. Your shoulders were tensed, your eyes were fixated on the floor as you walked around. Natasha had never seen you so serious before, and she wouldn’t admit it, but she was terrified.

“I’m here whenever I can be. Is that not enough for you?” Your movements came to an abrupt halt and you whipped around to stare at your girlfriend as if she had grown two heads. “No! It may be enough for you, but it isn’t for me! I’m alone for weeks on end without so much as a fucking text from you!” You raised your voice and Natasha felt irritation arise within her.

“I can’t stop in the middle of a shootout or an interrogation to message you! I’m sorry that I’m away all the time and can’t give you details, but it’s my fucking job! You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me.” Natasha moved until she stood directly in front of you, chest rising and falling quickly as she took shallow breaths. Her eyes were trained on yours with an intimidating glare, but you weren’t scared of her.

“My job is a priority.” The redhead gritted out through clenched teeth. You felt your own anger expand at her words. “And I’m not?” You questioned Natasha challengingly and she shook her head with a dark chuckle.

“No. You’re not.” You felt your heart shatter completely. Her tone was emotionless and she spoke as if she didn’t care at all; like you were a stranger.

“My job comes before anything, including you. I can’t let the world fall apart just because you’re a needy bitch that can’t spend a fucking minute without me.”

Natasha was relentless and you couldn’t handle it. Tears rapidly fell from your eyes as your chest constricted, making it hard to breathe.

People who said that words couldn’t physically hurt you; were full of shit. Each word that fell from her lips felt like a stab to the heart. And as everyone knew, Natasha Romanoff was very good with knives.

“What? You’re not gonna say anything now? You sure as hell had a lot of shit to talk a minute ago.”

Natasha’s tone was cold and you hated yourself for still trying to find the warmth that you used to soak in, but you couldn’t find it. All you were met with was a blistering wind that sent shivers up your spine.

You remained silent, focusing on containing the harsh sobs that threatened to wrack your body. Natasha rolled her eyes at you and turned around, heading straight for the door. An alarm sounded in your head as you watched her walk away.

“If you walk out of that door, we’re done.” Your voice cracked slightly as you spoke. Natasha froze, her hand on the doorknob going still. She stayed there for a minute, contemplating her next move. Of course, you didn’t think the redhead would actually leave, but she was always full of surprises.

Your eyes widened as she twisted the knob, pulling the door open. “Wait! Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.” Honestly, you didn’t really know why you were apologizing. If anything, the roles should’ve been reversed in this moment, but you were willing to say or do anything if it meant Natasha would stay.

Natasha ignored your pleas and took one step out of the door before you hastily rushed after her. You gripped her wrist for dear life and her head whipped around, a look of annoyance on her face.

“Let go of me.” Natasha tore her hand out of your hand easily, considering she was much stronger than you were. You remained in the doorway as you watched the redhead strut down the hall until she reached the staircase. As soon as you lost sight of her, you slammed the door and fell to your knees.

You had no intention of destroying your relationship. All you wanted to do was voice your concerns to Natasha. You were expecting endless reassurances as she wrapped her strong arms around your body.

But instead, you were crying on the cold floor of your apartment, her harsh words echoing throughout your mind. Part of you was waiting for her to knock on the door and apologize profusely for leaving, but Natasha was lots of things, and stubborn was one of them.

Once Natasha came to a decision, there wasn’t much that could change her mind. That’s what hurt the most. You were positive that the redhead loved you just as much as you did her. You felt as though nothing could sever the unbreakable connection that brought you two together. The possibility of Natasha willingly leaving you had never crossed your mind. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for this outcome.

Natasha Romanoff was your everything. Her cocky smirk and infectious laughter were the oxygen that filled your lungs each time you took a breath. Her shiny green eyes and red locks were the chemical reactions of your brain that produced dopamine.

Her love coursed through your bloodstream and kept your heart pumping. But now, she was gone. The minute she walked out, the light in your eyes disappeared and your skin slowly turned to dust. Without the woman you loved, you were nothing but a withering corpse going through the decomposition process.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha was your life support and she decided it ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ was time to pull the plug.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff angst #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

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writingintheshadowsforever · 3 years

Text

Wanda/Yelena x Reader Wait For You

Summary: You and Wanda are sent on a mission alone with each other. Making it so much harder to keep her promise of not saying anything to you about. How she really feels it becomes almost impossible without Yelena around to interrupt or remind her that. You're taken but she manages until you get hurt reminding her that tomorrow is never promised.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous to being going on this mission alone with your ex-girlfriend. It wasn't like you and Wanda hated each other the two of you actually got along very well. Considering how the relationship ended it was harder for you to be angry with her. After finding out that she lied about wanting to bringing her family back. How could you not be sympathetic and understanding. So no it wasn't hard for you move on and have a healthy friendship with her.

But for the past couple of weeks she's just been more distant. You thought it was because she couldn't bring her family back like she planned on doing. But there was just this feeling at the back of your head telling you. It was something else, and you wanted nothing more than to get to the truth. But while she was being distant with everyone Wanda had been avoiding you like a plague. Even Yelena saw more of her than you did, and it didn't worry you that your ex and current girlfriend were hanging out. But it made you wonder if maybe you were misread the situation between the two of you.

You started questioning your breakup with Wanda in the first place. Was you wrong to end things based off one huge but complicated lie? She was crying and begging you to stay. After all it wasn't like she went and resurrected Vision behind your back. Maybe you were too hasty and should've gave her a little more time to think. But all those doubts would disappear the minute your little blonde firecracker was back in your arms. Wanda still meant a lot to you but Yelena Belova had your whole entire heart.

Nothing in the world could come between the two of you. Not even a trip down memory lane with your ex-girlfriend because that's where the mission was taking you. The main reason you were being sent along with Wanda was, because Sam wanted someone who was capable of calming her down just in case. There was some evil magical activity going on in a small town that might be linked to the disappearance of some local children. Dr.Strange had enough on his plate so he asked Wanda to investigate. You were the perfect partner considering how you helped her stay in control with her powers. When she first started training not to mention. You had the power of creation and even though it wasn't as strong as her powers. It was pretty rare and powerful magical ability so you were pretty qualified for this.

You let out a long sigh as you stared out your bedroom window into the night sky. Your fingers playing with the gun pendant necklace Yelena gave you on your one month anniversary.

"I always want you to have a piece of me with you" she told you hooking it together.

Before you could go down the rabbit hole that was your emotions. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You felt her chest press into your back as she nuzzled her face into your neck. "Dove you need to come to bed your mission is in a few hours. You're going to need all the rest you can get." She whispered into your neck not able to hide how tired she was herself.

You glanced back at her with a small grin "I'll be fine you just miss my cuddles." Yelena let out a small whine giving you the most adorable pout ever. "Yes I do so come back to bed and hold me."

"I don't know I kind of feel like being the little spoon since I'm the one that's going to be gone for four days."

Yelena frowned then her fingers were digging into your sides causing you to squeal and squirm out of her grasp. She chased you around the room until you hopped back into the bed laughing. Yelena came jumping in after you climbing on top you, and caging you in her arms. Her face hovered over yours as she gazed into you eyes with an intense look. You stared back with same intensity reaching up to run the back of your hand across her cheek. Yelena leaned down to till her forehead was touching yours.

"I don't just want to hold you dove I want to wreck you before you go" she murmured. You lifted your head up to capture her lips in a brief and desperate kiss. "Then wreck me and hold me till morning comes my little firecracker. With the moon as the only witness you and Yelena danced under the sheets for half of the night. You only got about three hours of sleep but it was enough because she held you to her chest watching you sleep. By the end of the night all those thoughts about Wanda was gone.

The next morning came faster than you preferred and soon enough Wanda came into view. As you walked into the room with your duffel bag thrown over your shoulder. It was six-thirty Yelena was still sleeping when you left the room. So you placed a light kiss on her forehead and left a goodbye note on your pillow. Wanda just gave you a small nod then headed towards the quinjet. Sam didn't miss the way your brows furrowed. He stopped you holding up his hand as you went to follow her.

"What's up Cap" You asked him with a small smirk. He was still getting use to being the new Captain America, and not too many people called him Cap.

"Be careful with her okay she had another training session with Stephen yesterday. It didn't go so well she can do almost anything except bring them back." Sam told you

Just like that all your emotions were raging wild again. Dr.Strange told you it wasn't possible for her to bring them back without hurting this universe. He told you that him and Wanda had moved on from that part of training. Did he lie to you? Was Wanda keeping something from you? or did Sam just get his facts wrong? Was everybody lying to each other?

You shook your head deciding the questions would have to wait for another day. Right now there were some kids that needed rescuing and evil wizards that needed to be defeated. "Alright I'll tread carefully" you promised then with a playful salute you jogged off into the quinjet. The coordinates were already put in with the autopilot turned on. Both of you settled in to get a little more sleep for the journey ahead. You laid down on the bench in the back using your duffel bag as pillow. You were out like a light in just a matter of minutes. Wanda was sitting up front but she didn't fall asleep right away. Instead her eyes focused on your sleeping figure in the rearview mirror. She could see the afterglow on you the minute you walked into the room. It made her heart clench in her chest and brought her back to yesterday training session with Dr.Strange.

She was so close to having them back her kids were standing right there in front of her. They ran into her arms hugging her and asking so many questions. Tears fell down her face as she held onto them but then one of them asked "where is daddy?"

Just like that it all came crashing down Dr.Strange called out to Wanda as red energy started to form around her. Vision was supposed to be there with them. She just couldn't leave him dead without him her family would be left incomplete. She had to bring him back but just as she pictured him in her head. Your face popped into view laughing reaching out to her.

"I won't ever let you fall Wanda I promise" You said

She couldn't do it bringing him back would mean the end of you and her. Deep down inside she still had a chance with you even if you had moved one. Your love for her had to exist even if it was just a drop. She didn't need an ocean of your love. But the kids were part of her life with Vision not her future with you. Wanda knew that she couldn't have both.

"WANDA" Dr.Strange hollered her name his hands glowing orange. He was prepared to rip her kids out of this universe if she didn't gain control of her powers.

With a pained cry Wanda let them go Tommy and Billy faded away with smiles. She dropped to her knees tears of grief falling from her eyes now. Stephen hovered over her with a stern but understanding look.

"I told you whatever is holding back is interfering with your powers too much. Let whoever it is go Wanda, and you can have them back"

Wanda looked up at him with a glare "how do you know it's a person Strange?"

"Before I thought maybe it was fear of what your abilities were capable of. But you're in full control of your powers this is the second time you brought the kids back with no problem. But whenever it comes to Vision there's to much turmoil and hesitation. Which tells me that someone else is affecting you perhaps a lover."

Wanda leapt to her feet eyes glowing red dangerous energy radiating from her body. "Watch it Strange I already told you I have no lover."

"Yeah well it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself more than me. If there's no lover why not tell Y/N the truth?"

At the mention of your name Wanda went silent and just looked down at the floor.

"Let her go Wanda and you can have them back. This is the last time I'm telling you this it's either her or them."

Wanda knew she should've been able to pick her family with no hesitation. But whatever hold you had on her just wouldn't go away. The bond was too strong it almost hurt and made her want to sever it. But how could she do that? That was her last thought as she finally dozed off.

Five hours later and the jet was finally approaching the destination. You came to first and found Wanda turned around in the pilot seat facing you. But you managed to keep all the confusing thoughts at bay as you got up to wake her.

You walked over and gave her shoulder a light nudge. "Wanda wake up we're here."

Wanda jolted away and stared at you for a few seconds. You gave her a small smile and she wanted to give you one back. But that would risk falling back into old habits. Which would make it harder to keep her promise on not saying anything about her feelings for you, and it would damn near impossible to let you go. Wanda just nodded again making you frown. How were the two of you supposed to get through this mission. If you weren't talking too each other it wasn't possible. Wanda thought the exact opposite it was perfect and had to be done.

Two days later

Wanda was eating her words as she rushed through the woods to get to you. If she had been communicating with you better then none of this would be happening. You were walking right into an ambush it wasn't some evil wizards causing the spike in magical activity. It was demons possessing the kids that were doing all the bad things and causing the disappearances. You thought you were headed to rescue a ten-year old girl. When in reality at least six upper level demons were waiting to feed off your powers, and kill you.

She just brushed you off when you announced that you were going to look around for clues in the woods. It was the stupidest mistake she ever made in her life. Her heart pounded in her chest as she willed her legs to go faster till finally she burst into the clearing. You were being held up in the air by a single tentacle wrapped around your body. Your head lolled to the side making it obvious that you were unconscious.

"NO you put her down" Wanda yelled throwing her hands red energy shot from them headed straight for the kid.

The energy blast knocked the kid into the air and he slammed into the ground a few feet away with a ugly crunch sound. But she didn't care that she had just badly injured a kid. Her eyes were focused on your limp body on the ground.

Wanda slid to the ground frantically pulling your head into her lap. "No come on Y/N wake up please. I need you to wake up" she pleaded tears blurring her vision. The rest of the kids were trapped in a red energy bubble that was slowly getting smaller and smaller. "I'm sorry my love please come back to me" she whispered pressing her forehead to yours. But you had stopped breathing and moving no matter how she pleaded. You wouldn't move because you were truly gone.

No not like this a voice in her head told her, and red energy burst from her body wrapping around both of you in a cocoon. She pictured you alive, happy, and ever bit powerful as you been before. Wanda wasn't asking you to come back this time. She demanded it bending the universe to her will. A few seconds later and you let out a huge gasp as you were revived. The first thing you noticed was Wanda looking down at you her eyes glowing red. The energy cocoon was gone and the sound of children's screams filled the air. The energy bubble was about to burst with them stuck inside.

Fear took a hold of you as your hands reached out to grip Wanda by the shoulders. "Hey I'm okay but you got to snap out of it Wan. I need you to stop okay you're killing the kids."

At the sound of your frantic voice Wanda came back realizing that the demons must have abandoned their hosts. Once she rendered them powerless, and she released the kids from their energy prisons just in time. You let out a sigh of relief as Wanda burst into tears burying her face into your chest.

"You were dead" she sobbed.

Your heart clenched as you took in her words. It all came rushing back to you the kids pretending to be in danger. Once you were within reach the demons took over attacking from every angle. You held your own praying that Wanda would show up soon, but then the attacks got stronger. You were overwhelmed and then nothing but darkness. You. had died and Wanda brought you back with no problem.

"Hey I'm here now okay you saved that's all that matters" You told her with a gentle tone. Wrapping one arm around her and running your fingers through her hair with the other.

Wanda shook her head "I lost you do you know what that would've meant?"

Your brows scrunched up in confusion as she pulled away to look at you face to face.

"It would've meant that for the third time in my life I lost someone I loved, and couldn't do anything to stop it." Her hand reached out cupping your cheek and although you should've pulled away. You found yourself frozen in place taking all her words in.

"If I had of let you go like Stephen told me it would've been impossible to bring you back. Because then there would be no excuse as to why I shouldn't want Vision."

"I don't understand Wan"

"Its you my love I will always choose you first I just can't let you go" Wanda said. Her hand curled around the back of her neck you were aware of what was about to happen. But nothing in your body wanted you to stop it a part of you wanted this to happen. After this you would truly know the answer to everything.

Wanda pulled you to her meeting your lips in hungry and passionate kiss. Her other arm wrapped around to the curve of your back as you grabbed her face and pulled away for just a second. She was about to whine with protest till you went back in deepening the kiss. Wanda was in Heaven again not being able to believe that this was happening. But then Yelena flashed into your mind the gun pendant hanging on your neck began to weigh you down like an anchor.

No.

You pulled away as fast as you could placing a hand on her shoulder. As Wanda leaned forward trying to chase your lips "stop we can't do this I'm with Yelena."

Wanda got to her feet backing away frustration all over her face "you still love me though, or you wouldn't have kissed back"

"I was caught up in the moment that's all Wanda" You argued standing up as well.

"Oh for the love of God please don't do this to me Y/N.

"Do what"

"Make me lie I can't do it anymore."

You knew that your gut was right she had been lying to you. "Then don't lie anymore tell me the truth."

"I'm still in love with you in fact I never stop loving you. If you had just gave me a little more time I would've figured it out, and we would still be together."

"You're still trying to bring your Vision and the kids back. Sam told me before we left" You insisted

"Sam didn't tell you everything though did he? Because he doesn't know that you're the reason. I can't bring Vision back every time I try thoughts of you take over. Because I just can't let you go and that's why I can't bring them back, because I can't have both and I choose you."

Wanda watched your hand grip your necklace and she didn't need to hear you say it. "I know you're with Yelena and things are so much simpler with her."

She started forward till she was there was almost no space between the two of you. "But I'm still in love with you and I can't hide that anymore. I'm not saying you have to choose me. I'm letting you know that I will wait for you as long as it takes."

"Wanda plea-" you started to protest but the look she gave you made you stop talking. Wanda leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek her tears hitting your face.

Then she turned around and headed for the kids leaving you standing there.

One Day Later

The quinjet touched down outside the Avengers Compound and as soon as the doors opened. Yelena came rushing in meeting you in the middle for a bone crushing hug. She pulled her head away from her shoulder to talk to Wanda who was walking past the two of you. "Thank you for taking care of her Wan I owe you one" the blonde said.

Wanda gave her a nod patting her on the back "No problem I'll always have her back"

You caught her eye over Yelena's shoulder as she glanced back at you. "I'll catch up with you two later I need to shower" she said then walked out of the quinjet

"I'll wait for you Y/N" those words were stuck in your head.

You did your best to forget about them hiding your face in the crook of Yelena's neck.

Taglist: @wandanatvoid @yelenabelovasgf @ironscarletwidowsoilder @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena imagine #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #yelena belova #wanda maximoff

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

YES YOURE DOING REQUESTS!! 💛💛 ILY ILY ILY!! Can I get the "only one bed" trope with Dream, Sap, and George x reader (separately lol) - 🦎

Hi 🦎 anon! Thank you for the request! I hope this is what you wanted :)

summary: uh oh! bed sharing ;)

pairing: Dream x reader, Sapnap x reader, George x reader

warnings: fluff, one or two swear words I think?

links: ao3, main

◦ You’re traveling to visit mutual friends.

◦ Clay was picking you up because you lived near each other.

◦ The two of you never really got along, but when it came to not having to drive, you were willing to let bygones be bygones.

◦ That being said, when Dream finally pulled into a hotel and there was only one bed available your strained car ride tension snapped.

◦ You both stood, glaring at the double bed in the middle of the dingy motel room and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

◦ How cliché, you’d think.

◦ “We’re adults. I think we can share a bed without killing each other, can’t we?” You’d groan, earning a low grumble from him.

◦ You could practically hear his eye roll. “No, I’ll literally wake up and think ‘today’s the day’ and unremorsefully strangle you.”

◦ You shot a glare in his direction. “You don’t have the brain power to hide my body after that.”

As you sank into one side of the springy mattress, Clay would sigh in frustration before burying himself in the covers beside you; both of you too tired to argue. Despite the fact that you could practically feel your hair grow you were so exhausted, Dream’s cover hogging and your cold feet would make most of the night hell for the two of you.

The sun began to pierce through the slits in the blinds, the stripes stinging your eyes and forcing you awake. As dust jumped from light beam to light beam, you groggily began to stretch your body yet stopped short at the feeling of Dream’s warm breath fanning against your shoulder. It was then that you noticed just how encompassed you were in his long limbs as his arms kept you pressed against his chest, locked around you as if you'd float away in the middle of the night. His legs were tangled with yours like sleeping this way had been natural to the two of you.

You froze in the hope that you hadn’t woken him up, but also in utter shock at the fact that he was snuggled up against you so tightly… And that you were enjoying it. The scent of his day old shampoo mixed with whatever foreign laundry detergent the motel was beating into their sheets, made you drowsy once again. Dream’s soft snores came out as whispers against your hair to break the silence of the intimate moment.

Yet your bubble of calm was popped as his phone alarm began to shrill, jerking him awake and into a sense of panic as he realized his hold on you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping he’d just slip away from you and you would pretend it never happened.

But alas, this was Dream you were talking about. “Jesus Christ! What are you doing on my side of the bed, perv!”

◦ Sapnap was moving in with a friend of yours in your area.

◦ The two of you hadn’t really known each other well; you’d met at a party once or twice but that was the extent of it.

◦ Since you lived nearby, you offered your help while he was moving in.

◦ Sap had come a day earlier than your friend, so you took it upon yourself to welcome him.

◦ Most of the day was spent heaving boxes into various parts of their apartment and light chatter

◦ You’d been so engrossed in helping him lift the couch into the correct spot in the living room, you hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten.

◦ As you mentioned having to leave, Sapnap swatted you off saying it was late enough that you could just crash there.

◦ So, that’s how you found yourself on an air mattress in the center of the floor with him sprawled out in a sleeping bag beside you.

◦ Only problem was, you were freezing.

◦ You nudged him with your foot, trying not to startle him too much.

◦ Despite this and you calling his name softly, he didn’t budge.

◦ You kicked him harder, making him startle awake.

◦ He’d look at you with raised eyebrows as if to ask if you were dying.

◦ At this point, you were so tired and so cold, you didn’t care what kind of Twilight trope you were giving into.

◦ “Nick, I’m freezing. Come lay next to me,” you’d request.

◦ His brows knitted together. “What? NO-”

◦ “Please, how are you not cold?” You’d nearly beg.

◦ He’d shake his head and then climb into bed beside you, his warmth a new haven for you.

The make-shift mattress sinks under Sapnap's weight and you're nearly reluctant to curl up closer to him but as he turns to face you, you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. You shuffle nearer to him and he doesn't pay mind to it. Your teeth were still chattering though, so he huffs slightly and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to his chest. You're enveloped in his warmth almost instantly, your body calming at his touch. "Damn, your feet are like icicles," he chided, sending the two of you into soft laughter. It isn't long before you lose yourself in the sound of his heartbeat.

“What is going on?” An all too familiar voice broke you out of your dream world, your heavy eyelids struggling to open because of the long night. You snuggled closer against what you had figured was a pillow until you realized the soft material under your touch was Sapnap's hoodie.

Your eyes snapped open, finding Sapnap sound asleep in your embrace, your roommate looking over the two of you scornfully. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” you muttered, reluctantly dislodging yourself from around Sapnap and wincing at the brightness of the room. He groaned and sat up, stretching his own arms and sending you a soft smile, making a blush rush to your cheeks.

“It looks like you’re spooning my roommate,” your friend badgered, heading out of the room with a shake of their head.

◦ You and George were roommates.

◦ The two of you shared a wall, much like you shared milk and sugar; sparingly but with respect.

◦ You usually kept to yourself around your shared space, letting him do his thing and you do yours.

◦ Sure, the two of you were friendly here and there, but you were positive he couldn't pick you out of a line-up and vice versa.

◦ But, all that had been put aside when you began having nightmares.

◦ You'd woken up with a start one night, heart racing and a cold sweat inkling down your back.

◦ Your surroundings seemed foreign to you as you could barely see your hand in front of your face.

◦ The fear you'd felt moments prior was digging its heels into your subconscious and threatening to make its nest.

◦ You rolled your eyes in subtle embarrassment as you noticed the small line of light spilling from beneath George's door across the hall from you.

◦ It was then that you felt yourself move, your mind now set on companionship you weren't entirely sure you needed.

You knocked softly at his door, regretting the disturbance almost instantly as you heard him climb from his bed. You debated turning back and burying yourself in a book until morning, but as you turned on your heel, his door creaked open.

George rubbed his eyes with one hand and the other leaned against the threshold. "You okay?" He asked, his voice raspy from being dormant for a few hours.

You cleared your throat, finding it difficult to form words of your own. "I um- had a nightmare," you mumbled, chewing the inside of your cheek and feeling like a child.

George's brows furrowed as he looked down at you, the light from his room drawing his long, slender shadow around your feet. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" He asked, as if sensing what you were struggling to ask him.

His sheets were soft against your skin as you settled into his bed, inches from him. His features seemed softer in the dark as the two of you laid in silence, the only sound being his gentle breathing. He reached for your hand, grasping it gently in his own to send you a small node of understanding. "You can wake me up if it happens again," he whispered, a sense of ease washing over you as you once again felt drowsy. The feeling of safety being near him like this and his hand threading with yours, calmed your quarrelsome mind.

It was like you had closed your eyes for an instant before the morning sun pulled you from your slumber. George's arm was wrapped protectively around your waist as your hands curled around his own. Your nose was nestled in the crook of his neck as the two of you had unintentionally begun to share a pillow at some point in the night. He slept like the dead, and continued to as you slyly slipped from his grasp and headed into the living room.

You'd never really spoken about it, but these sessions became next to normalcy for the two of you, sometimes even without the nightmares.

#dream x reader #dream fluff #dream imagine #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound x y/n #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #sapnap imagine #georgenotfound imagine #dream x y/n #bed sharing #🦎 anon

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

We need more Time and Wild bonding

For you, Anon! And also for @1142 who requested the same thing!

Summary: Time sees his family, friends and other loved ones in his boys, but Wild especially is reminding him of himself this morning, and he wants to offer some encouragement to the poor kid.

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It's quiet to read alone, listen to this!

Epona’s song drifted through the cool morning air.

The sound brought a smile to Time’s lips as he snuggled closer to the warmth pressed beside him, breathing in the clean morning air and tugging the blanket up higher on his shoulder.

He really didn’t want to wake up.

Although, he didn’t remember opening the bedroom window last-

Wait. They weren’t on the farm! They’d gone to sleep in the forest last night! There was no window to leave open, and no Malon singing or lying beside him. He shoots awake, pulling himself up with the intent of looking around camp, only to have something pull him back down towards the ground.

Looking down, he feels his scarred heart melt. Twilight twitches in his sleep, arms locking around his shoulders, sleepily groans sounding as the lad hangs off him, cold nose pressed to his neck. Tiny, whuffling snores sound from his pup as the younger man nuzzles closer, and he can only chuckle softly and rub his protégé's back lightly as he settled back down to let Twilight sleep.

He is curious who had been singing though.

A single blue eye takes in the camp as he props himself up slightly on his bedroll, careful not to disturb Twilight as he takes in where each of his boys lay.

Legend and Hyrule lay curled into each other, Legend clinging to his protégé while Hyrule’s hands lay buried in his mentor’s silky hair, a smile on the face of the younger and drool on the face of the elder*. Warriors lies close by, sprawled across his bedroll and snoring fit to wake the dead, utterly content and comfortable in the safety of his brothers and proving it with his noise. Opposite the three, Wind and Sky curl close, Sky’s sailcloth and their blankets thrown over the two leaving only Four’s left foot visible from between them.

His pup curls close to his side, one leg thrown over his waist and arms locked tight around his shoulders, holding him in place and preventing him from rising, but the bedroll on his left...

Epona’s song continues to dance through the camp, and Time’s single eye finally falls on Wild, the cook busily scrubbing out his favorite cooking pot on the very edge of camp, the familiar tune dancing off of the young one’s lips, suds rising halfway up his arms and hair thrown back in a messy bun that reminds Time strongly of Lullaby’s own hair when the woman loses patience with it. Decorum be shot, the queen will throw her own hair back with a simple hair tie in front of the whole court, ignoring how it makes her appear and continuing her duties without hair hanging in her face and her neck free from the oppressing heat of its constant curtain.

If ever he doubted that Lullaby and Shiek were the same person, each time he sees his princess behave in such a way, he’s reminded that, different time lines or no, there is still the same fiery spirit and passion for change in his friend that there had always been, and it is something he is happy to see reflected in some of his boys, along with Malon’s stubborn personality and incredible strength and kindness.

Maybe he is looking for the traits of those dearest to his heart in the boys that had pushed their way in. Be it by force or by accident as the hero might be, but it brings him no small joy to see Lullaby in Legend’s sharp glares or in Warriors’ brisk manner when planning. In Hyrule’s swift fingers or Wild’s sharp and calculating eyes. To see her in Four’s dark eyes, always thoughtful, always knowing, or in Sky’s burning passion.

It’s a wonder to see Malon in Wind’s boisterous cheer, and in Twilight’s rolling laughter. To see his wife’s mischief reflected in Wild’s luminescent gaze or her love of life in the way Legend cares for his orchard and animal friends. And the glimpse of unbelievable strength in Four’s easy lifting of weapons as big as himself, or the echo of her in the firm set of Warriors’ shoulders always makes him smile to himself.

There are others at times. Saria in Hyrule’s smile. Kafai in Wild’s laugh. Romani in Wind’s eccentric ideas, Nabooru in Legend’s firm stance and heavily lidded gaze, Navi in Sky’s light scolding and Tatl in Four’s acerbic wit. Glimpses of home and family echo around him, pulling close what reflected it and making them home and safety themselves. And over it all he can hear the winding of tunes that both tore apart and hold together the memories of his youth.

And now, one such tune, one especially close to his heart, one meant only for the Lon family and their famous steeds, dances over the edges of the camp and past the ears of the sleeping heroes as Wild lifts his cooking pot and carries it over to the fire, singing softly with faint and muddled words, many of them wrong, mumbled or tripped over, but sung all the same as food winks into being from the champion’s slate.

“-ne-ver far from home. Epona, Epona, can you hear hmm hmm, singing from in my heart, hmm-hmm-hmm.” Mumbled hums break the words as the champion works over the fire, measuring and stirring. “Something if you’re wandering far away hmm-hmm, listen for this melody calling you! Re-mem-ber that you have something-or-other to complete! I trust hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hm!”

The muddled version of the song makes him chuckle softly, startling the younger hero into spinning around, the spoon that Sky carved him brandished like a weapon as the champion prepares to defend himself against whatever he thinks may have startled him. Face beet red and growing redder.

“You have a nice singing voice.”

Wild looks instants away from combusting on the spot. “hOW- How long were you awake?” Gone are the stumbling yet melodious trills of the cook’s voice, instead replaced with a panicked squeak only made worse by his age.

It was like the first time he’d successfully startled Shiek, both of them both still so young that their voices broke under pressure, and the thought makes him smile as he meets the startled child’s gaze.

“Long enough.”

Wild’s ears droop, quivering with shame and embarrassment as the kid’s shoulders hunch up to brush against them, eyes darting down and refusing to meet Time’s as boot scuffs the dirt softly. “I thought you guys- that is- I thought it was-” Cornflower blue glances up, meeting his own for only a second before darting away again. “I thought it was safe.”

Safe? What does the cub- Understanding dawns and he finds himself chuckling low and soft. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“It’s not that.” The champion whispers. “I just- I don’t like people...hearing.”

Oh.

Also familiar, also so very familiar. Only this time he doesn’t see his wife or sisters and brothers, or mother or friends in the flushed face of the hero before him.

A squeaky voiced young hero, who’d pulled his cap over his face more times than anyone would guess when looking at his scarred face now, had time and again been encouraged by a darting blue fairy.

“You’ve got a lovely voice Link. No shame, come on!”

Of course, fairies always like hero their Chosen sing, but Time himself had, admittedly, stumbled over notes and keys nearly as badly as his pup still does, but he’d lacked any of Twilight’s playful self-confidence to be able to own up to the harsh squeaks and shrieking chirps that erupted out of him whenever someone else tried to get him to sing, or caught him singing.

He was fine, when Navi was fast asleep or the Kolkiri were half a forest away, or when it had just been himself and Epona, trailing through the dark woods in search of a light he’d have given anything to hear encouraging him to keep trying to raise his voice. It’d been the first time he’d really tried to Sing for his fairy, but it hadn’t done anything but tempt over two fairies who already had their own Chosen, a skullkid who’d pulled him along into a world where his voice had hidden with his face behind mask after mask.

It took Malon catching him singing while at work in the barn before he’d been able to et the guts up to actually try for her, but it’d been worth it when he hadn’t had to fumble with fancy words to ask her to marry him, not when there was a song and a dance just for that that he’d learned for Kafai while in Termina. Malon made his heart sing, but she also made him sing, and while her voice far outdid his own, it always made him happy to hear the two ringing together.

He’d once hoped, once he found out, that he’d one day hear Twilight’s voice rise up with theirs on some starlit evening, but after hearing his pup sing...

He loves Twilight like a son, but heaven forbid he ever force his wife to listen to that tone deaf mess!

Wild though, oh, Malon would love to tempt Wild into singing and guide him along until his voice could ring with hers. The child had the voice of a fairy, ethereal and inhuman, but in a way that made him feel light and airy and almost like he could fly.

“Well...” He wants very much to stand and walk over to Wild, but he was still trapped and Twilight was both a brick and incredibly strong, leaving him trapped until his pup is good and ready to wake up, something he fully believed Wild would prefer to prevent happening for the time being. “I can’t not hear it, Wild.”

“Try?” The kid pleads, eyes wide and face nearly purple from embarrassment.

“It’d be an insult to whoever created the voice to do so!” The words spilled out before he could stop them. He was supposed to reassure the kid, not make him panic more by pressuring him! “That is- Wild, you have the voice of an... I suppose Legend would say “an angel” whatever those really are. To be frank, I wouldn’t choose to forget it if I could.”

“I’m not a good singer.”

“Bullshit.”

The newest hero’s gaze shoots up to meet his own, shock written across scarred features at hearing him swear. “You-”

“Don’t tell Warriors.” He whispers with a wink- blink- whatever, it was meant as a wink, and hopefully Wild would read it as one.

“You swore.” Wild breathes

“And you lied.” He returns. “You’re a good singer. Confident, maybe not, but I thought I heard Maon when I first woke up, and unless you want to tell me that my wife has a poor singing voise-”

“No! Of course not!”

“Settled then.” He smiled. “You’re a good singer.”

The champion stares at him, ears twitching slowly and eyes blinking as he processes the words, before a light scowl pulls at the kid’s scars as he crosses his arms. “It- no!” At the grin he shoots at the kid, Wild whines softly. “Dad!”

Both freeze at that. Or rather, Time blinks repeatedly, shocked, and Wild’s hands fly up to his mouth, eyes wide and horrified.

“I’m sorry!” Wild blurts out, still hiding behind his hands. “I slipped I-”

Laughter, deep and rumbling enough that Twilight is happy grumbling against him in response, sounds through the camp as Time throws his head back. He can’t stop it, but he will embrace it. This is the best morning he’s had in ages and Hylia have him if he doesn’t take a moment to enjoy it! “You’re fine, Cub. I’ve been called much worse than that more than once. Unless of course,” He grins at the young hero, brows pulling down in a mock stare, even if he can’t hold his smile back to be convincing. “You think I’d be a bad one?”

“No! You’re an awesome- You’re going to be-” Wild is somehow redder than he was before and he stomps his foot almost petulantly as he catches on to the laughter that still rumbles in Time’s chest. “Time!”

“I don’t mind.” He rumbles out, and more than anything he wants to walk over and ruffle the kids hair, or wrap him in a hug, but he’s trapped by Twilight, and instead can only lift his free arm in an offer that Wild hesitates to take. He’s almost considering lowering his arm and rescinding his invitation when the champion barrels into his side, face buried in his shoulder as Golden hair fills his vision.

“I hate you.”

“Such disrespect to your father.” Time scolds playfully, gently pinching Wild’s ear and making the champion giggle at the touch. “What will your Mamalon say?”

“Ma-” Wild sits up again, staring down at him in confusion. “Mamalon?”

His lips pull into a smile again, something he’s done more this morning than he has nearly all week. “Something Legend calls her, which I’m stealing because she and I both like it.”

The champion’s eyes trail down to where scarred fingers still tangle into his tunic. “Can I call her that too?”

“Well,” He chuckles. “If I’m your Father Time, I think it’s only fair she’s you Mamalon.” At Wild’s smile he smirks. “Ad she’ll be delighted to learn you already know the family song, if only in part. Her mother wrote that for her you know, and I’m sure she’d love to teach you the rest of it. She taught it to me after all, and I used to sing as poorly as Twilight!”

Wild’s mouth opens and closes a few times as a light blush colors the kid’s cheeks before he shyly nods. “I’d- I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” And breakfast or no, Time thinks the others can wait for a half of a minute to eat after waking up, because if Twilight’s going to pin him down than he’s going to return the favor with his other son.

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Perfect

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 6,154 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Daddy Kink, Daddy Training, Dom/sub, Dry Humping, Vaginal Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Oral Fixation, Subspace, Aftercare, Multiple Orgasms, Established Aaron/Sophie Summary: Two weeks after the events of 'Present,' Aaron plans another surprise—this time for Spencer and Sophie. Collection: Part 2 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr. Link to A03 or read below! Spencer is sitting at his desk working on a consultation, in his own little world, when a perfect denim-covered butt comes to rest on his case file, thighs spread in front of his face. His mouth falls open, and he looks up at Sophie. She’s grinning, cherry red lollipop in hand. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, and he looks around the bullpen, panicked, but miraculously, they’re alone.

“Food truck today, everyone’s at lunch. I was in Aaron’s office, but he had to take a call; thought I’d come say hi.” Her fingers reach out to brush over his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You look really cute today, all tie-d up.” Her fingers slide down to wrap around it. “Can I kiss you?” He nods, and she bends down to press her mouth to his, humming against it. “Aaron said I could ask you to spend the night tonight. Or, all weekend, if you’re free.” She sits up properly, slides the lollipop into her mouth, sucks on it. He licks his lips, and she pulls it out, smiles. “Are you free?”

“Extremely,” he answers, and he wraps his hand around her calf, half-stands so he can have another kiss. They’re being bold, even if everyone is at lunch, but he likes it.

“I take it he said yes.” Spencer curses and pulls back, but Sophie just laughs. It’s only Aaron.

“He did. I think he likes us.”

“I know he likes us,” Aaron replies, voice low, and Spencer’s head is almost spinning with how fast they’ve turned him on. He comes to stand beside them, and Sophie looks up at him, swipes her tongue over the lollipop, and then presses it to Spencer’s mouth. He sucks it in, wraps his tongue around it, and when she pulls it out with a pop, Aaron groans. “Fuck.”

“That’s the plan,” Sophie says, cheeky, and he leans in, presses his fingers to her jaw, tilts her head up so she’s making eye contact.

“You don’t make the plans, sweet girl. I do. Do you want to know what the plan is?” She nods as best as she can, and when Aaron looks to Spencer, he nods too. “You like being dominated by me. You like having a daddy who tells you what you can and can’t do.” Spencer swallows hard, because he knew about the dominating, but he didn’t know about the daddy thing. His dick throbs. “But wouldn’t it be something if I let you have two daddies? Two daddies to order you around, to fill you up, to tease you until your pussy is so wet you make a mess of everything?”

Sophie whines, spreads her legs further apart, and Aaron drops his hand to squeeze hard at her thigh.

“If Spencer wants to learn, baby, I’m going to teach him how to be your daddy this weekend. He’s had a taste of you, but he’s going to find out just how dirty and needy my little slut really is.”

“I want to learn,” he says quickly, practically tripping over his own tongue to do so. Sophie takes a couple of shallow breaths, and he’s suddenly so aware of how thin her t-shirt is, how he can see her nipples even through her bra. How fucking perfect she is.

“He wants to learn. Does that sound good, precious girl?” She closes her eyes, wets her lips, and Aaron caresses her face.

“Yes, daddies.”

Fuck.

“Good girl. Time to get down; everyone will be coming back soon.” He puts his hands on her waist, helps her to her feet. His fingers wrap around her hand, the one with the lollipop, and he guides it to her mouth, pushes it inside. “You can come sit in my office and suck on that until you calm down. Give Spencer a hug.” She does, puts her arms around him, and he reciprocates, inhaling sharply when she presses against his erection; she steps back, looks down at it, looks up at Aaron. “It’ll have to wait, sweetheart. We don’t have time. Spencer understands.” He presses his hand to Spencer’s back, and he exhales, nods.

“I understand. It’s okay,” he tells her, and when he touches her cheek, she closes her eyes, sighs. “You go calm down. I’ll see you in a little while.” Aaron moves his hand to his arm, squeezes him, and then he leads Sophie up the stairs to his office. The rest of the team files back into the bullpen so suddenly it’s almost alarming; not even a full minute has passed. He sits back down, tips his head back, and blows out a breath.

“What’s going on with you, Reid?” Morgan asks as he and Prentiss take their seats. “You missed lunch.”

“I guess my mind is on other things,” he says offhand, and it is an incredible understatement. Aaron texts Spencer, tells him to come over at 7 and to come hungry, and he and Sophie make mushroom risotto, to be served with French bread and white wine.

He may be trying to woo him a little, since the last time he spent the night was quick and frantic and ended with pizza in bed before an equally hurried round two. He deserves some romance, if they’re going to continue this, make it more than just a thing, as Sophie calls it. He’s never been in a relationship with two people at once, never thought he would want to, and he wants to be sure he does things right.

He takes off his jacket but stays in his work clothes; no sense changing out of them when they’ll be removed soon enough. He does choose a new outfit for Sophie, though: it’s a lavender colored, transparent, lacy babydoll dress—lingerie, really—with matching panties, though he doesn’t let her wear them. He wants to see the look on Spencer’s face when he realizes she’s practically naked already.

“You’re a little bit evil,” Sophie says when he tells her to remove them, gives her his reasoning, but she takes the panties back off and tosses them at his face.

“You love me, though,” he says, setting them on the counter, and she grins, wicked, and sidles up to him for a slow, lingering kiss.

“Yeah, I do, handsome.” They kiss a little longer, and he lifts her up onto the counter so he can keep his hand on her while he stirs the risotto, knows she likes to be gently touched as much as possible before the kind of playing they’re going to do tonight. He gently trails his fingertips over her thighs, earning happy sighs, and when the doorbell rings, she looks up at him, clearly excited. It’s so cute. “Want me to get the door, or take over stirring?”

“You stir, baby. I’ll go get him.” He leans in for a kiss, and she smiles into it, pulls back looking affectionate and sweet.

He can’t wait for them to wreck her.

“Hi,” Spencer greets a little nervously when he opens the door. He’s holding a small bouquet of white flowers, still in his work clothes, too, and he looks just... perfect. “Jasmine. I remember Sophie said they were her favorite, once.” Aaron smiles, and he leans in to kiss him soft and slow.

“She’ll love them. You’re very thoughtful, Spencer. That’s how I know I can trust you with her.” His answering nod is serious, and his eyes are wide.

“Of course you can. Of course.” He ushers him in, and when he sees Sophie on the counter, leaning over to stir the risotto in her tiny little dress, he swallows audibly. She turns, and her eyes light up when they fall on the both of them.

“Hi, Spencer.” Aaron guides him over to her, bends to kiss her mouth, and then she kisses Spencer. He grabs a vase to put the flowers in while they greet each other. “Mmm, flowers?” she asks when they separate, and he touches her face while he fills the vase at the sink.

“Jasmine. He remembered they’re your favorite. Do you want to smell?” She nods, and he tips them toward her, earning a deep, happy inhale.

“God, they smell so good. Thank you.” The smile she gives Spencer is brilliant, and Aaron feels really happy. He’s only been here five minutes and it already feels like something good.

“I’ll finish dinner, sweet girl,” he says, coming to take the spoon from her with a kiss. “Can you tell Spencer daddy’s rules for tonight?” She straightens a little, her posture less relaxed, but she does wind her arms around Spencer's neck.

“Yes, daddy. First rule is no panties,” she explains, and it makes his eyes fall to her lap, his tongue flick over his lips. Aaron smirks privately. “I have to be patient while we eat dinner, and after, while we relax, but I am allowed to hump daddy’s thigh—both daddies’ thighs.”

“That’s a good rule,” he murmurs, looking a little dazed. It’s a great look on him, and Aaron absently wonders how submissive he could make him, if he’d like that, too.

“All of daddy’s rules are good rules. He’s smart and takes care of me when I’m too needy to think for myself.” That earns her a soft kiss on the nose from Aaron, and her answering smile is lovely. “I have to come on each daddy’s cock at least once. You get to decide if I’m allowed to come from something else as well.”

“We’ll talk more about that later,” he promises Spencer, who nods. He leans in for a kiss, because he looks horny and overwhelmed and adorable. “Continue please.”

“Yes, daddy. We all need to be honest about what we like and don’t like. If the thought of something makes you feel bad, you stop and tell daddy. Aaron. We won’t ever be disappointed, we promise.”

“There are some things she and I may like that you won’t, or maybe some things the two of you will like that I won’t. If we already know, we’ll tell you that.”

“I can confidently say that this is much more intense than anything I’ve done before, so I may not know,” he says, unsure. Aaron grabs potholders and takes the pan off the stove, plates their food.

“That’s absolutely fine. If something you see interests you, or you think of something, speak up. I’m happy to talk you through it. I wasn’t intense either, until I met Sophie.”

“I bring out the latent daddy in the men I like,” she says with a wink. “You still want to do this, though?” she asks, confirming. “It’s okay if this isn’t for you.”

“I think it’s for me,” he says quietly. “I know you two are.” That gets him hugs and kisses from the both of them, with Aaron wrapping his arms around him from behind and pressing his lips to his cheek. Sophie leans forward, kisses him deeply, soulfully.

“Good. You’re for us, too,” Aaron speaks into his ear with certainty. “Let’s eat, and we can talk more while we relax.”

Dinner is good, with soft laughter and affectionate looks from the both of them, at him and at each other. He’d placed the vase of jasmine on the table, and he can tell looking at it turns Sophie on; she loses her mind over sweet gestures like that.

When the table has been cleared, dishwasher humming in the background, they go into the living room to relax with another glass of wine—for Aaron and Spencer only, because Sophie had her half a glass with dinner, and that’s all she can have before play.

They sit on the couch, Aaron then Sophie then Spencer, talking about nothing in particular, and he smooths his hand up Sophie’s thigh, tries to judge how horny she is by the way she responds. Spencer is talking about biology, something Aaron can’t follow, but she is listening intently, her eyes on his face; when Aaron’s hand creeps up her leg, though, closer and closer to her bare pussy, she moans softly.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, go ahead,” she apologizes, but he’s blinking in confusion, and then he sees the hand pushing up her dress and it looks like he suddenly understands the reason for the interruption. “Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

“It’s okay, really,” he says, wetting his lips, and Aaron gets a brilliant idea.

“Why don’t you sit on his thigh and hump while he finishes his story, sweet girl? You can face him.” He looks to Spencer, to make sure that’s okay, and he nods, opens his arms for Sophie. She takes his hand, but turns back to kiss Aaron softly on the lips before sliding her knees around either side of his right thigh. Aaron takes the spot she previously occupied, so he can be closer to both of them. “Go ahead, Spencer.”

He swallows, puts his hands on Sophie’s hips over her clothes, and continues his story while she grinds against his leg, slowly at first. She remains focused, interested—he knows she enjoys being his outlet sometimes, when others won’t give him the chance—for several minutes longer than he’d expected, but at some point she gives in, releases another soft, needy moan, clutches at his arms.

“Good girl, rubbing on your daddy while he talks to you. He’s very smart, and it turns you on when a daddy talks about things you don’t understand, doesn’t it?” She shivers at the sound of his voice, humps faster.

“Yes, daddy. I have two very good, very handsome, very smart daddies, and it makes me so wet.”

“I bet it does, baby, and you aren’t wearing panties. Are you making a mess of your daddy’s thigh?”

“Yes, such a mess. I’m sorry, daddy,” she says directly to Spencer, the first time she’s addressed only him that way, and he can see in his eyes that he’s a fucking goner. He’s so into it, even if he’s nervous, even if he’s shy. He’s at least sure, now.

“That’s okay, baby,” Spencer says, tentative, like the word is new for him. “I know you’re needy. It’s okay, keep rubbing.” She pants at his words, works her hips harder.

“Yes, daddy. Do you want me to come, daddy? Or do you want me to stop myself?” He looks over at Aaron, who puts his hand on the thigh Sophie isn’t riding.

“It’s up to you. Either is good with me. And she’ll take whatever we give her, won't you, sweetheart?” She moans, nods frantically.

“Yes, I’ll take whatever my daddies give me. They decide when and where I get to come, if my pussy is empty or if there are fingers or a cock inside it.”

“Fuck,” Spencer groans, and he holds tighter to her hips. “You can come baby, come for daddy.”

“Put your thumb in her mouth,” Aaron directs, and he presses one against her lips; she moves her fingers from his arm to his hand and holds it close, sucks and humps for another ten or fifteen seconds before coming, moaning around his thumb. He watches, rapt, as she loses it, and Aaron gets it—having her come on his tongue was one thing, during intercourse another, but watching the woman they know is strong, smart, formidable, just come completely and gorgeously undone at their request to hump his thigh? It’s something else entirely.

Spencer pulls her close, kisses her deep and wet, and when he breaks the kiss he urges Aaron closer, so he can kiss her too. “Good girl, Sophie. You did so good, listening to your daddies’ commands. We’re so proud of you.” He runs his hand over the arm closest to him, is happy to see that Spencer catches on, does the same with the other side. “When our baby girl does really well for us, she likes to hear it, and she likes to feel gentle hands so she doesn’t get too fuzzy and lose herself before we’re done playing.”

“Sure, of course,” Spencer says, nodding, and he knows he’s committing it to memory. “That was perfect, Sophie. We’re so proud of you.” He smooths his hands up over her throat, and she hums happily.

“Come over here, now, sweet girl. I want to see how wet you made daddy.” She reaches for him, and Spencer gives her up—not easily, he thinks. He looks so attached to her already, and it’s incredible, to see the things he’s felt happen to himself, happen to someone else.

Spencer’s pants are gray, so the dark, wet patch on his thigh looks all that much more indecent; Spencer tips his head back, runs his hands through his hair, licks his lips, and Aaron can’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry; we have a really good relationship with our dry cleaner." After the thigh-riding thing, Spencer is probably more desperate to come than Sophie was. He never imagined himself as someone a woman would call daddy—he’s young, but more importantly not experienced, or confident, or classically, painfully handsome like Aaron, so the thought never even crossed his mind, but… It is an intoxicating, addicting feeling, one he wants to chase until they wise up and kick him out of their bed.

And learning about it all from Aaron, who is so knowledgeable, and firm, and careful with her? It’s got him so hard it’s almost embarrassing.

They’ve moved to the bedroom, and Sophie is content to watch them kiss each other, grope each other, take each other’s clothes off. He thinks they both felt a rush from watching her fall apart, can almost taste it on Aaron’s lips.

Her little, purple, see-through dress stays on, and he almost likes it better that way. For now, at least.

“What should we do next?” Aaron asks, breathless after kissing. “Do you want to fuck her? Want me to fuck her? Or should we tease her some more? With our fingers?” It’s so hard to choose, because he’s so ready to come, but he thinks he can wait, wants to see more of what they can do to her.

“Fingers,” he decides, his voice rougher than he’d anticipated, because that’s something he’s wanted to see since he ate her pussy the last time. Aaron nods, looking pleased.

“She loves to be filled up with fingers. She’s such a perfect girl, because one is enough to make her come, but she can probably take three of yours if you want her to. Isn’t that right, baby? You’re a desperate slut for your daddy’s fingers.” She is sitting on the bed, propped up with her hands behind her, and she nods, swallows.

“Yes, I'm a desperate slut for daddy’s fingers.” Spencer’s heart rate jumps at hearing her recite the words back, and again, it’s not something that ever crossed his mind, but now he needs to test it out at some point.

“Sophie likes ‘slut’ because that’s how her daddies make her feel; like she could just be bent over and fucked for days and it wouldn’t be enough,” Aaron murmurs in his ear. It makes him shiver. “It’s a little smoother when you say, ‘a slut for daddy’ or ‘a slut for daddy’s cock’—make it possessive. She doesn’t like ‘whore.’” He presses another kiss to his lips before heading for the bed.

“Hi, daddy,” Sophie says when he reaches her, and she puts her arms around his neck, kisses him happily. “I’m getting fingers? Am I supposed to come on them?”

“Let’s ask daddy,” he says, and Spencer joins them, earns his own warm greeting and kiss.

“Hi, daddy. Am I supposed to come on the fingers?”

“Remember the rules,” Aaron reminds him gently. “She has to come on each of our cocks, and she came on your thigh. That’s three. She can do four, if you want. If we take a break in between, she can probably come six or seven times in a night, but she’ll be damn near useless the next day. That would be saved for something special.” Spencer nods, files that away. Seven orgasms. She deserves a day in bed after that. He gets tired after one.

“Uh. No, no coming on the fingers. I just want to play with you, feel how wet you are for us.” She nods seriously.

“Okay daddy, no coming. I’ll try really hard.” Her tongue peeks out, swipes over her bottom lip.

“What do you say when you’re getting close, sweetheart?” Aaron asks her, and she frowns.

“I say, ‘that's enough, daddy,’ and then you stop.”

“That’s right, because good girls don’t come unless daddy says to, and daddy said no.” He starts to feel kind of bad for denying her, but Aaron touches his face, kisses him. “This is okay. We have to tell her no sometimes. She’s good at this, I promise.”

“Okay,” he breathes, and he touches her throat, her face. “Can we take this off?” he asks of her dress, changing his mind, and Aaron smiles softly.

“You’re her daddy, you can do whatever you want.” Spencer exhales, feels like he needs to defer to Aaron because he always has, but this is different, and he knows that.

“Arms up, sweet girl,” he says, and she makes it easier for him to pull off the dress. Aaron hands him a pillow, and he lays her back on it, so her head and neck are supported. “Remember, no coming. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Yes, daddy.” He leans up for a kiss and slides one finger inside her; she is soaking wet, and he meets no resistance at all. It’s incredibly hot. “Yes, daddy, your finger is so deep inside me.” He closes his eyes for a second, because that’s hot too.

“Yes it is, baby girl. Deep inside your achy little pussy.” She nods, flushed and eager.

“‘M achy for you, daddy.”

Aaron curls himself along her side, stroking her hair and kissing her skin, and after a minute or so of teasing her with one finger, Spencer presses in another alongside it.

“Oh, mmm.” She thrashes her head a little, and Aaron shushes her softly. “But daddy. It feels so good.”

“I know baby, but remember, you can’t come. We don’t want daddy to have to discipline you already.” She looks down at him, where he’s thrusting his fingers inside, and squeezes her eyes shut. Her chest is heaving.

“But daddy is so handsome and good, and his fingers feel good. I wanna come on them.” Aaron looks at him, and he works hard to find some resolve; he knows he can’t give in now, has to stand his ground. It’s what Aaron would do.

“No coming, baby. Listen to daddy.” She sighs, and he slows his hand, teasing a little more. “I know you’re desperate to come on daddy’s fingers, but you’ll have to wait for my cock. Can you do that?”

“Yes, I can wait, daddy. Can wait for your big cock to push inside me so deep. I can wait.” She sounds almost frantic, repeating herself, but Aaron is just soothing her gently, so it must be okay.

“Good girl, yes you can. You’re going to make your daddies proud.” She arches up when Spencer says it, reaches for Aaron’s hair, tugs it.

“I’m your good girl, daddy? Promise?” Fuck. That shouldn’t sound as good as it does. He covers her breast with his free hand, squeezes it, and very carefully adds a third finger.

“Yes, you’re my good girl, baby. Taking daddy’s fingers, waiting so patiently to come. You’re perfect, sweetheart.” She’s wet enough that his three fingers slide in and out easily, and he moans as he watches them. “Fuck, Sophie. So good, so good for daddy.”

“Look at daddy, baby girl,” Aaron coos, and Sophie hums. “Look at how good he looks with his hand between your legs. He’s incredible. Tell him.”

“So incredible, daddy. He’s such a good daddy already, makes me dumb and needy and horny. I want him.” Spencer’s so hard he feels like he could pass out. He presses his cheek to her knee, kisses her there.

“When you’re close, baby, tell me and I’ll put my cock in you. You won’t be a bad girl, I promise.” Aaron reaches out a hand, puts it in his hair, comforting him. He knows he’s going off script, but he must be doing something good. “Tell me baby, when you’re very close.”

“Yes daddy, I’ll tell you, thank you. I want it so bad.” She rocks against his hand, hard, several times taking him down to the knuckle. “Oh, daddies, please.”

“Please what, Sophie? Needy, whiny little slut for your daddies. Please what?” Aaron moans, Sophie moans, Spencer moans; she’s being called needy, but they’re all a mess at this point, and it makes him a little proud, to be honest. He’s a quick learner even when it comes to this.

“Please daddy, that’s enough, I need your dick, please.”

He carefully pulls out his fingers, pushes down one of her thighs with his wet hand, hooks the other leg over his shoulder, and slides inside, bottoming out with a groan. Sophie cries out in pleasure, grabs for him, and he fucks her and kisses her with lots of tongue.

“Yes, yes, daddy, harder,” she pants, and Aaron touches the both of them with strong hands.

“Settle, baby, it’s okay,” he murmurs, rubbing over her breasts. “Daddy will get you there, just be good for him. Almost time.”

“But I need it, daddy, I need it.” She tosses her head back, and she’s full on begging, which shouldn’t make him feel so good, but it does.

“She’s a fucking mess,” Aaron says, affectionately. “Rub her clit, okay? You can’t beat the combination of clit and tits when you need to get her off fast.” He leans in, sucks at her nipple, and Spencer rubs tight circles against her clit until she comes so loudly he fears a noise complaint. She is still shivering through it when he leans forward, puts his hands on her waist, and pumps a few times until he comes as well, his sweaty face pressed against her leg.

Now that she’s got what she’s been begging for, she’s soft and sappy again, and she pushes his hair back, touches his cheek. “I have the best daddies in the whole world,” she sighs, reaching for Aaron, too, and he huffs a laugh.

“See how she goes from desperate, horny monster to sweet baby girl in like five seconds flat? It might be intense, but it’s the best sex you’ll ever have.”

“Yeah, no I got that,” Spencer says, panting. It was, by far. His other encounters pale in comparison. “Good girl, you did perfectly for me,” he praises, switching his attention back to Sophie. Aaron still needs to come, so they need her to be present. “I filled you up, came deep inside. You liked that, baby.”

“Yes, daddy, I liked that. So big inside me. I’m full of your come.” He blows out a long breath, because even though he’s completely spent, her words hit him right in the dick.

“Is there room for daddy to come in your little pussy too? He’s been waiting for you.” Her eyes linger on his face, then turn to look at Aaron’s, and she reaches out a hand to touch his cock.

“Yes, I always have room for daddy. I always want daddy to come in me.” Aaron moves his hand to cover hers, helps her stroke him, and she bites her lip. “Do you have a plan, daddy?” Aaron gives her a dark, serious look, and he can see it makes her eyes light up with hunger again.

“I always have a plan, baby. This one involves daddy.” He kisses Spencer with a hand on the back of his neck, and it makes him melt a little. He may be one of Sophie’s daddies now, but Aaron will always have a little dominance over him, and he’s really so okay with that. “Lay back for me?” Spencer does as asked, up against the pillows, and Aaron scoots up, guides Sophie there too. “Now you climb up on daddy, hands and knees.”

“On top of daddy?” she asks, like she’s confused, and he lays her on his body, situates her arms and legs the way he wants them, so she’s hovering over him, ready to be taken from behind. “Oh, god.”

“Yes, baby, you’re going to love this. Daddy is close enough to kiss and touch, but you’ll probably just whimper and moan on top of him and rub your little clit against his cock, get it hard again. You’re such a needy slut for your daddies, even after two orgasms, aren’t you?”

“So needy for my daddies, so slutty,” she agrees, and Spencer catches her lips in a kiss, can’t help himself. He’s breathing hard.

“You’ll be a good girl for me while daddy fucks you, won’t you, baby?” he asks, and she nods seriously.

“Yes daddy, I’ll be so good, I promise.” Aaron gets behind her, plants his hands around where Spencer’s shoulders are.

“I need daddy’s help with this,” he says, but he’s looking at Spencer. He picks up one of Spencer’s hands, presses it against Sophie’s thigh so he’s pinning her up against Aaron, holding her in place. To say that's hot is an extreme understatement; he puts his other hand on the other side. “You’re allowed to come, baby girl, but if this feels like too much, what do you say?”

“I say, ‘enough, daddy,’” she murmurs, looking back at him.

“Right, sweet girl, because even when we’re playing, when you tell me it’s enough I’ll stop right away and hold you until we figure out what went wrong.”

“Yes, daddy, because you love me.” He knows that, of course, but it’s the first time love has been said aloud, and it makes him wonder if he does. If he should. How he’ll know.

“Yes baby, I love you, but even if we weren’t in love, I respect you, and I care about you, and it's the right thing to do: that’s why we stop when you say enough.” Spencer thinks maybe that was a roundabout way of easing his mind, of saying it’s okay if he doesn’t love them, yet.

He’s suddenly a little more jealous of Sophie. He kind of wants Aaron for a daddy. He has a way of always saying just the right thing. “Good girl, being fucked so hard by daddy,” Spencer murmurs, holding Sophie against Aaron while he pounds inside her. Her fingers are fisted in the sheets, but there is no pain, only pleasure as she moves her hips quickly back and forth, her breathing hard. “Perfect, beautiful girl.”

“Thank you, daddy,” she breathes, her clit sliding up and down the length of Spencer’s cock while she bucks back against Aaron’s. “Thank you daddies for helping me come, and get full of daddy’s come.”

“You’re welcome, sweet girl,” Aaron pants into her ear. She’s so fucking good at this. “Your daddies love getting you off. You’re so pretty when you beg and whine and moan.”

“So pretty,” Spencer agrees, pressing harder against her thighs, and she whimpers, her legs shaking. “Everything okay, baby?”

“Yes, I just… it feels so good. What if I need to come twice? Am I allowed?” Aaron nips at her ear, starts fucking faster.

“Yes baby, come now. Come for your daddies right now.” Spencer sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, looking dazed and a little curious, like he’s not sure that will actually work. Aaron isn’t sure either.

Sophie does come, groaning, short, surprised sounds of pleasure, rubbing against Spencer’s half-hard cock just like his thigh earlier, and yeah, that’s his perfect, obedient girl. He grins.

“Good girl.” His words are full of pride, and he pulls her hair to the side, kisses her shoulder. “We’ve been practicing that, haven’t we sweetheart? It’s only happened one other time.”

“Yes daddy,” she mumbles, head down as he fucks her. “Thank you daddy.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, baby girl. You earned that. So good for us.” He grunts, gets close—her body's obedience drives him insane—and he presses up from his hands and knees to just his knees, puts his hands on her hips and works her hard with, short, quick thrusts.

“Oh, oh, daddy, yes, please.” She arches her back, fucks against him even though their hands are stronger, doing it better. “Daddies, oh, fuck. Your baby girl is being used so good, so close to being filled up.” Her voice is weak, and high, and Spencer looks up at him like he’s worried, but he just shakes his head. She gets like this, she can handle it.

“Yes baby, you’re being used by your daddies because that’s what we do. We fuck your tight pussy and your mouth and your ass, and you just take it, baby.” Sophie moans, loud and wanton, and he’s so close to losing it, and Spencer, gorgeous, perfect Spencer, presses two long fingers into her mouth.

Aaron is careful not to make any jerky movements, and she sucks on the fingers, whines around them, and when he comes, clutching her hips tight, she moans high, loud, lets the fingers fall out of her mouth; the final sound she makes is a cry, and he can’t tell if it’s pleasure or overstimulation.

“Have you had enough?” he asks her as he grinds against her, and she shakes in their hands, comes again. Her legs have given up, and she’s flat against Spencer, who looks like he just witnessed something incredible. Aaron figures he did.

“Enough, daddy,” she sighs, and he pulls out, watches his come drip out of her and onto Spencer’s balls. It’s a visual he’s going to have to reflect on later, to see if he can plan for it again in the future.

“You did so amazing,” he coos into her ear, running his hands up and down her back. Spencer is doing the same, and though it’s clear they’re losing her, she hums at their touches. “So perfect for us. We couldn’t ask for a better girl.”

“You’re so good, baby. So good for your daddies,” Spencer murmurs, and he looks over at Aaron. “I think she needs some water. I don’t want to move her.” Aaron smiles, kisses his lips.

“That’s part of aftercare for Sophie. I’ll get her some and then I’ll tell you all about it,” he promises.

On his way back from getting the water, he gets a warm, wet washcloth from the bathroom, wipes at her pussy while Spencer presses the cup to her lips. When she’s had a few sips, looks a bit livelier, he gets her to roll over onto the bed on her back, cleans up the front of her.

“Sophie likes to be held, and gently cleaned up—sometimes she wants a bath or shower, and she’ll say that. I usually do it all, wash her body, her face, her hair. It makes her feel more human after. She’ll just sag against you and let you scrub her. It’s very cute. Then I will ask if she needs more cuddles, or food, or sleep, or something else. As you know, she’s not shy about asking for what she wants.” Spencer nods, taking it in.

“What can we do for you, baby girl?” he asks, wrapping his arm around her; her eyes are closed, and her breathing is returning to normal. She sighs.

“I want to lay between my daddies and be cuddled. Am I clean enough?”

“You have to go pee first, but yes, I think you’ll be fine until morning. Then we can all take a nice hot shower and get you soapy and fresh, and figure out our plans for tomorrow.” She smiles softly.

“I forgot we get Spencer all weekend. If I didn’t scare him off,” she adds, and Spencer pulls her close, kisses her gently, but very affectionately.

“You didn’t scare me off, needy little thing. I can see why your daddy thought you needed another one, though. You are a handful.”

“She is a handful,” Aaron agrees, leaning in to kiss them both, “and you haven’t even seen her being bratty, needing to be disciplined.” Sophie groans, tired, probably figures he’ll want that tomorrow. He’s not sure yet, honestly. “But even then, she’s pretty fucking perfect. Just like you.” When Spencer looks at him, he thinks he sees a flicker of love, but it could just be the orgasm talking. Either way, he looks forward to holding the both of them, and a night of extremely restful sleep.

#aaron hotchner x original female character #hotch x original female character #latina original female character #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x aaron hotchner

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tooweirdforyou · 3 years

Text

Riceballs » Trafalgar Law

A/N: inspired by this anon! I SO HAD TO WRITE THIS OMG! ( once I find it I’ll link it :’) )

note : this is to make up for the lack of writing I’m doing. I’m working on that Shanks nsfw that Rose anon asked for, a haikyuu event piece, a Tokyo Revengers Mikey oneshot, and chapter 2 of Target atm.. plus some personal things going on ! Forgive me!! :)

It’s real short so I apologize! ^^;;

Summary : offering to make Law a snack turns out to be a little more difficult than you imagined. Fortunately, Law is there to save the day.

“Lawwww?”

Peering into the room, your head sticking into his office, you gave a cute smile to the doctor, who eventually looked up at the door.

“What is it?”

You lean into the room more, gripping onto the door so you don’t fall before smiling at him. “You hungry?~”

Book still in hand, the doctor’s dead tired eyes looks up you and your excitement for a minute before shaking his head.

“Not really. I’m studying something so I don’t—“

“Studying again, huh?” You drawl out the last word before entering the room. “What is it this time?”

Law sits up and sets the opened book onto the desk flat and explains. “I’m studying the human bones, inspecting specifically, the phalanges and their-“ you let out an awkward hum.

“Er.. I don’t really understand since I’m not really knowledgeable in the science and biology department but you’re working hard!”

You smile brightly, and despite cutting him off, Law secretly adored your bright look.

( even if you reminded him of a particular straw hat ).

“So, as a reward, I’ll make you some rice balls, okay? Keep working, I’ll be back!”

Before he could protest, you run out excitedly and shut the door, dashing to the kitchen to get started on the doctor’s lunch.

Law blinks silently at the doorway before exhaling gently. “..okay.”

You were a handful, but he appreciated your efforts.

“Time to get to work!”

You clench fists into determination, clothed in an apron and a hair pulled back from your face. A smile plasters your face as you stare blankly at the kitchen table.

. . .

“What am I supposed to do?”

You sweat drop, still wearing a smile before humming. “Rice balls.. well, rice!”

Washing your hands, you go over to the rice cooker pot and open the lid up, scooping a spoonful of rice out and dumping it onto your hands.

“A-Ah, hot-! Hot! Hot!”

You hiss and toss the rice back and forth between your two hands, the rice sticking to some parts of your hand as it burns you.

Gloves. After plopping the rice onto an empty plate, you wash your hands again to cool it and slipped on some gloves to prevent sticking and hopefully, burning.

“Okay, rice is cooling and I can touch it now.. what next?”

You think back to Sanji’s rice balls he made when you visited once and snap your fingers. “Seaweed!”

Humming a tune, you go over to the cabinets and began looking for the sheets of seaweed to put on the rice.

Upon looking for it, you find some other stuff that seems to be good add-ons for the rice balls.

“Maybe eggs.. and soy sauce.. there’s some meat and fish left over so I can add those... sriracha, hoisin sauce.. these can add flavor! Pepper for some nice spice.. salt..?.. hm..”

As you mindlessly grabbed ingredients, your determination to create some delicious rice balls for Law’s hard work makes you blind to what you’re really doing to the rice but.. it was too late.

You were currently having the time of your life making these rice balls.

“Law’s going to love it!~ <3”

“...”

Law looks up from his book to see the time, seeing about an hour having passed since you came in.

“Did something happen?”

The doctor exhales gently and closes his book with small gesture before getting up from his desk, pushing his chair in.

Walking to the door, Law leaves his room and begins heading to the kitchen, preparing for what was there.

And when he finally made it, he’s speechless.

“. . .”

Upon the door opening, you glance at the entrance and widen your eyes with delight.

“Oh, Law. I was going to take these to you, but since you’re here, come eat!”

Despite the kitchen in quite the disarray, on the table were various small plates with a variety of rice balls with different sizes and appearances.

“Each one is different, so give it a try!”

Some looked edible and decent, while others were dark, red, mushed or just completely flat with indescribable and indiscernible items inside.

“Did you.. spend the whole hour making these?..”

Law mumbles, mixed feelings churning up inside him, or perhaps it was just his own insides at the sight of a few of them.

“Just for you!~ Don’t they look amazing?”

Law doesn’t say anything and the bright smile still being worn by you, fades just a little.

Your hands that were being your back, is pulled to your front and you let your smile completely fade and falter away, catching Law’s attention as you look at your red, burned and cut hands in front of you.

“Amazingly horrible, right?...”

The sight of your hands makes Law widens his eyes but you continue to speak before he can.

“I know it’s not good.. I.. don’t know how to make rice balls..” You admit, clenching your hands softly that it still stung.

Tears well up in your eyes in the embarrassment and failure sinking in. “But.. I still wanted to make something good for you to eat.. because you work so hard, and-!”

You sniff and wipe your tears with your forearm, before it could fall. “I’m silly, aren’t I? I just want to help you because you’re my captain and..”

“It’s not bad.”

You widen your eyes with a gasp and watch Law take a bite out of one of the rice balls. It seems to be the one with soy sauce put in.

“I understand what you were going for, the idea isn’t bad but the execution and technique needs some work.” Law critiques, biting once more silently into it before finishing it.

Swallowing the last bit of it, he turns to you and offers a small smile. “Thank you, [Name]. You worked hard to make these for me, I appreciate it. I’ll enjoy these.”

He then walks towards you and brings his hand up to brush a stray tear away from your eyes with his thumb.

The blush that spreads across your cheeks become visible as you stare in awe at your Captain.

“Don’t cry. Once I finish these, let’s make some rice balls together for the crew. It’s almost dinner time after all, and we’ll even share some of yours with them. Not all of them though.”

You snap out of your daze at his last comment. “S-Sure, but why not?”

Law looks up at you with a raised brow.

“What do you mean? These are originally for only me, right? I’m not sharing this reward given by you. It’s mine.”

“!” Your blush darkens as you sniffle and smile brightly again, giggling as your heart beats against your chest. “Okay!”

A/N : I’m so sorry this is so short and so sorry for the lack of content lately! :(

AT LEAST I FINALLY WROTE THIS THOUGH!

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #op #one piece writing #trafalgar d. water law x reader #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece law

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: How many colors can you see in the dark?

Summary:

"Darkness wasn’t pitch black. Darkness wasn’t nothing. It was a slew of shadows, lines and glimmers. It was a dark blue, a light blue in places and if she searched for it, a subtle shade of green.

Eyes were just constantly looking for something to see."

After the war, Hange and Levi start living together and Hangs notices something might be a little off about Levi.

Link: AO3

Note:

I know this is two weeks late but...happy birthday Shaila! Based on the prompt you sent ;)

Levi had always approached housemaking like it was a delicate art, a dance to master

Or maybe it was something he had mastered already.

Despite his small stature and his generally aloof demeanor, he navigated the kitchen with silent confidence, running his hands over each task quickly, efficiently and more notably, elegantly.

Elegant enough to catch Hange’s busy eyes for at least a few minutes a day.

Turning something as mundane as managing a house into an art was an admirable skill that Hange learned over the years, could never be replicated without the natural proclivity. And as long as it was Levi was involved, Hange seemed to be completely capable of giving her full attention.

And before she even realized it herself, she had mastered the subtle art of just observing.

She mastered it so well that when inconsistencies started to appear, Hange spotted them almost immediately.

There was a plate that Levi had settled on the counter with a louder than usual clatter and that was enough to ring alarm bells inside her. Then when the angry clatters, the awkward rhythm as Levi reorganized utensils became commonplace, Hange found herself watching every move more closely then listening even when she had know idea what she was searching for in the first place.

She surreptitiously kept her guard up, she followed his movements. She snuck glances when she was sure Levi wasn’t looking. Over time, acts as mundane as turning on the stove had Hange looking up, ears perked up, interest piqued.

Maybe she was just a little nervous that Levi might burn himself.

Levi knew the stove from the back of his hand, he knew everything inside and out from the vacuum cleaners, to the dishwashers, to the mops. She had never needed to be nervous before.

But the clicking of the stove as he turned the knob was just a tad slow. The plates continued to clatter instead of settling softly on the counter.

And when Hange observed the way he set the table, she couldn’t help but notice, the spoon was just a little closer to the plate than the spoon.

Something, a fastidious Levi would have never allowed.

It could have been the long observations, or just the broken dish that had started it all. It could have been Levi’s careful movements or Hange’s penchant for overthinking. For a while, she had even blamed herself for being overly zealous about how the house should be run.

Then understanding came out of nowhere one morning, as an abrupt yet taut curse from just a few feet away.

Fuck.

Hange’s reaction was almost immediate. “Levi? You okay?”

He wasn’t okay. Hange had stood up instinctively at the sound, her eyes following Levi’s hands. The latter had dropped the peeler onto the kitchen counter with a louder clack than usual.

“Let me take a look,” Hange said. Her pace quickened as she made more sense of the situation.

Out of instinct, Levi held his hand close to him, another clumsy mistake, considering the red streaks that pooled out of that tiny knick that started to leak into the white shirt underneath. “Fucking hell,” Levi let out another curse, that time as a hushed whisper. He pulled away even before Hange could get close.

“Let me take a look,” Hange repeated, that time more firmly. Instinctively her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed.

Somehow, that combination of everything had been enough to have Levi just a little more obedient.

He didn’t pull away further. But he didn’t make it any easier either.

It was Hange who carefully unwrapped his fingers, exposing the raw skin underneath. She ran her hand over it as gently as she could, but still not gentle enough to prevent a soft, hesitant and begrudging whimper.

“I’ll get the bandages,” Hange turned towards the cupboard, pulling out the materials one by one.

The process of bandaging was slow and the air between the two remained unbearably silent. Hange had more than enough thinking space to notice it then, when it was right at her fingertips.

Levi’s hands have always been rough, they have always been crusty to the touch. But something seemed a little different about the scrapes, the raw red that seemed to climb up his wrists, settling in his palms.

Levi had always been careful, he’d never been clumsy, let alone accident prone.

But his hands seemed to tell a different story. Hange ran her hands over his palms as she worked, ignoring the winces, the way he tensed up at each slight touch.

Then she started to ignore the passage of time, only painfully aware of the questions, then the ardent curiosity that seemed to manifest as some heavy weight in the silent kitchen.

She had to let it out somehow, or risk having that weight crush her.

Are you okay? Even if she did ask that, would Levi ever respond with a straight answer? Her own experience with him said no.

She took a deep breath. “Levi…” Hange started, hands running through the bruising once again. “Did you fall somewhere?”

***

Levi never answered that question. And any attempt at pushing and prodding after that, came up empty.

He was quiet, and it turned out, keeping mum could have been as much of his talent as being careful. He could ignore Hange if he tried and he would mumble something to himself, and walk away.

He always found a way to feign or at the most even force himself into a state of deep concentration, enough to even convince Hange to leave her questions for another day.

Hange was never one to stay quiet forever. And the universe was only tempting Hange to push the issue.

Suddenly everything was a catalyst.

The broken plate was the first catalyst. Then accidents seemed to pop up more frequently, an awkward clatter worse than an awkward clatter or a broken rhythmThere were rhythm. There were broken platess, a bleeding cutss and crushed fruits. Strange accidents had become a common sight.

I’m fine. Levi had said the first time she asked.

Hange gave it a week. One week became two weeks when Levi insisted that he was fine.

Two weeks became three when Levi insisted he was just tired.

One month in, Hange’s own habits of observation have graduated to levels of almost accurate predictions.

Hange didn’t notice it for herself immediately. In fact, she noticed it in slow motion, in the way she tensed up as she started to make sense of her observations.

They were in the moment Levi’s eyes twitched, the split second long blink, and the way his hand hovered over the plate, the way his hands gripped for something so tightly Hange could have sworn he had to have been gripping something.

Something a little more tangible than air.

Hange didn’t have to squint or furrow her brows to see that nothing had been between his two finger tips. Yet, for a second, Levi still held the air in between them like it was a lifeline.

When Hange looked up, narrowing her eyes at Levi’s, she noted the flash of confusion. As quickly as he pulled back, it melted away to something more subtle.

That dumbfounded expression didn’t fall away for any longer. It stayed long enough for Hange to see everything about the way Levi had blinked rapidly for a few seconds longer, the awkward way he stepped back then the way he gripped the counter as he bent down to grab the plate.

He didn’t go quickly for the broken plate, he started to feel the ground and Hange was sure she could have been much quicker. She rushed next to him.

Levi had a headstart but despite that, Hange was moving alarmingly faster. “Levi… I’ll handle this,” Hange said, noting the awkward and aimless movements of his hands.

Levi didn’t even protest but something inside Hange had wished he did. He pulled back, reached above him for some support from the counter.

When Hange focused on the obvious signs, she was quick to conclud, Levi had never been that slow.

He had never approached cleaning with such painful hesitation.

The first time, Hange did stomach it but she never really was the type to sit back and observe. She always observed but after observing, Hange would act in the most logical, calculated manner.

“We’re going to the doctor.” Hange brought it up out over an uncharacteristic silence.

“No.”

That brusque response had Hange jumping in her seat. When Hange thought about it for a second longer, after ‘I’m fines,” and “I’m just tired,” a firm ‘no’ seemed almost ominous.

Levi wasn’t making things any better with the rash way at which he stood up, then teetered, his eyes hovering wildly over the table. He blinked hard, then he widened his eyes in some look of confusion or surprise.

When Hange bent over to look into it, he looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You know I can help with the laundry right? Or cooking.”

“Why do you wanna help so suddenly? Don’t you have work to do?”

“I do,” Hange admitted. “But even if you’ve always wanted to do it yourself... I thought I wanna help with house chores more.”

“That’s new,” Levi glanced at her accusingly.

Glanced. That’s what it should have been

Hange squinted, then her eyes scanned over his expression while aiming to recall every other moment he had made eye contact before.

Levi wasn’t glancing. His eyes could have been staring at nothing. Either that, or he could have been staring at something which Hange couldn’t see.

There was a blunt grey in his sharp blue eyes and before Hange even felt the damp tension in the room, the way it weighed on her lips, forced her jaw back, she took one deep breath. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? Doing everything on your own?”

“I’ve always done everything on my own,” Levi said. He pulled his chair back then walked slowly away.

He didn't finish his breakfast that day.

***

It was like a switch just turned on inside Hange.

The stronger the indignance, the more motivated Hange became. Soon, even the small things back home were pulling out the researcher from inside her.

Despite her chaotic personality, Hange always seemed to put some systematic process into something as complex as solving a problem and subsequently, getting into the bottom of someone as stoic as Levi Ackerman.

Define the problem.

Levi was just a little too clumsy.

Form a hypothesis.

That part was a little more complex. With a little more observation, a little more analysis, she noticed the small details.

The small details weren’t in Levi, in fact they were in the little changes in his surroundings. The spices and the groceries have always been arranged neatly but when Hange observed Levi’s movements, she noticed, he liked to hover his hand over everything before allowing it to land, on top of one cap, then he would grip the one right next to it.

The salt shaker was just a little smaller than the pepper shaker just an inch away. When Levi was done with the salt he put it in its usual spot.

In the exact same place.

Levi was meticulous. He always did it that way. But there was something unsettling about the way he gripped it hard before letting go, before hovering his hand over the jar right next to it.

“Here,” Levi said, dropping the plate gently on the counter.

Scrambled eggs with salt.

“Thank you,” Hange said as she pulled it towards herself. Most days, she had a book next to her, or a few documents to review before she left for the office. That day in particular, the documents were just for show. She watched carefully as he cleaned up, as he positioned the bowl right next to the plates, and when he set it, he let his hand hover, he let it gently fly over the other utensils.

As if he was memorizing where everything was.

But Hange couldn’t be too sure. She needed to experiment.

There was only one window to move and that was when Levi was in the shower.

So Hange called the office, mentioning something to Armin about being late, and about an urgent health concern.

She never called days off so Armin didn’t pry.

She opened the salt shaker and poured the contents into a bowl. She opened the pepper shaker and poured the contents inside. A few hand motions later, the salt was where it wasn’t supposed to be and the pepper wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Then Hange lined them up. She could never be too sure if that was the exact sample place but it was worth a try.

The next morning, the experiment turned out to be very much worth it when Hange was served an omelette sprinkled with a little too much of something else on top.

“Levi, I asked for salt in the omelette right?”

“You always ask for salt,” Levi answered matter-of-factly as he picked at his own breakfast. “Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing… I just thought you put in a little too much.” Hange made a loud show of pushing the plate in front of him and it looked like Levi had been ready to make a show of something too.

He narrowed his eyes on the plate then nodded. “Sorry, I’ll put less salt next time,” he muttered, only proving himself what Hange already suspected.

“It’s fine, put as much salt as you want,” Hange didn’t even notice herself, not until she pulled the plate back towards her that her voice had deadened to smatterings of sound. She sliced the omellete into smaller places, mixing the black pepper with the gooey yellow just underneath then wondering for a second how Levi managed to so cleanly crack the eggs even when he could barely tell the difference between white and black.

The only way to ever find out is to ask. But there were more pressing things to ask at that moment.

Levi, are you blind? If Hange just went with her first instinct, maybe that’s what she would have asked.

This is pepper. That had been her second choice but with such a fragile moment right between them, that was no time for proving her own conjecture correct.

She went for an in between, a curious in between and she decided, it was up to Levi to take it for what he sees the question to be. “Levi? How much can you see right now?”

“I can see just fine,” Levi answered, once again straightforward and firm.

At that moment, he met her gaze with blank eyes, or at least, he attempted to meet her gaze. The moment Hange avoided his eyes, he didn’t follow.

She started to make sense of everything at once.

The strong denial, the lack of confusion, her omelette with a little too much pepper instead of salt and one strong inference later, Hange started on a new endeavor--- convincing Levi to see a doctor.

***

The disease wasn’t anything new and Hange was confident, she could have pronounced it and memorized it if she had put her heart into studying it.

As Levi put it, there were more pressing things to study than the sudden onset of failing eyesight. The doctors at least had been nice enough to put a prognosis on it.

The rules were simple, old people usually got it, Levi had just been terribly unlucky he experienced it decades earlier. It wasn’t common but it wasn’t unheard of either, even in the small island of Eldia. If Hange requested the documentation from Marley, if she made a quick visit to Marley, maybe she would have figured it out for herself.

Levi had shot down that idea though before Hange could have entertained it any further.

Even in the silence, in the bedroom, at two in the morning, even when Hange had so carefully padded towards the desk, Levi had seemed to have sensed it.

His voice rough, his eyes half open, he spoke up seemingly from out of nowhere. “No need.”

Whatever had hinted him to it seemed to have work, maybe even if it was just Hange’s own tense demeanor which she couldn’t so easily brush away.

In fact, Hange had been thinking about it. She had a half written letter for a leave to go to Marley. She had papers on whatever the doctors had even documented about the failing eyesight of elders, all scattered across the table.

But fading eyesight of elders was something not many people endeavored to cure. Levi's case was just too rare, and there were no other studies which made it worth white.

It was as if Levi had known that too.. “Hange, go back to sleep.”

He had chosen a convenient moment to say it. That exact moment where Hange had ran her eyes over the last few paragraphs of one of the files from the library.

No known cure.

“I’m reading something.” Hange disturbed the papers enough to release some loud rustle in the room.

“You wanna read it to me?” Levi asked. That was the first time he had ever asked her to read anything to him.

To Hange’s surprised, it sent some painful pang through her chest that seemed to settle in her stomach.

Suddenly, she was in no mood to read again.

“Actually, you’re right. I think this can wait until morning.”

***

Hange’s work in the office started to die down just a bit, and suddenly her mind was everywhere.

She allowed herself to ponder what the hell Levi was busying himself with while she was away. Did he get bored? More importantly, was he safe?

And a few times she did call home, only to get some form of ‘go back to work’ in a more and more annoyed tone with every call. The few times she stopped herself from calling, she busied herself with something else.

Piles and piles of paperwork, some of them were actual work and some of them were something that Hange would have classified as personal, hidden amongst a small pile of papers slightly obscured by the one Jean had left a while back.

Luckily, no one really asked Hange to clean up. No one among her subordinates seemed to have even made sense of the pile of paperwork and that was one thing Hange took advantage of.

After one call with Levi, where the latter had put down the phone a little too roughly, Hange quickly went through one of the letters she had written only that morning, to another doctor she had heard about through her network.

The few doctors in Eldia had deemed it incurable but Hange still managed to grip on to whatever hope came with a second opinion. The few researchers that had come back bore bad news but Hange was unfazed, there were still many other doctors, some in Marley, some in the Middle East, some in Hizuru.

Others had come back with nothing but affirmation that whatever research that had reached Eldia were the latest.

But Hange wasn’t giving up just yet. There were a few more she hadn’t sent yet.

She bent over, chin leaning on one hand. She knew the best way to write a letter and if she just let loose, she was confident she could make it sound as professional as the many other letters she had written before.

Somehow, the nth letter was harder. Somehow, writing that same letter when she had received too many rejections already was harder.

Was it worth it to still try? Hange took a deep breath, pressed the pen to paper and wrote out the first few words. It was like a script, when Hange gave into self discipline and to the mechanisms that kept working the past few years, she found it was easy enough to stay productive and efficient.

Doctor Wilken,

I hope you’re doing well.

My name is Hange Zoe from Paradis. I’m writing to you to inquire about a case…

Hange had gone halfway through, before the door to her office creaked open. The sound echoed, breaking whatever trance she didn’t even know she had been in and Hange jumped her seat.

“Did I scare you?” Armin asked, another wad of documents held close to his chest.

Hange eyed the documents and instinctively patted the empty space to the side of her desk. “Leave it on my desk.”

“This can wait until tomorrow.” Armin dropped the documents on the side and looked up at her expectantly.

“If it’s urgent, I could get started tonight,” Hange offered.

“The grocery closes at seven,” Armin volunteered.

At that point, she had been painfully aware that a lot may have changed about her work habits. How long had she been writing letters back and forth. More importantly, how long had she been frequenting the grocery on the way home?

Since the doctors had given her Levi’s diagnosis? Hell, maybe even before that.

“You notice I’ve been going to the market more often?” Hange said.

“Connie noticed it first. Then Mikasa,” Armin explained. He put his hands up in defense. “We weren’t stalking you or anything, but we used to see Levi in the market more… and when we started seeing you there, we got curious.”

Hange forced a smile. “I just thought I should pull my weight at home. I think I’ve been spending too much time working. Not too much time helping out.”

“Levi isn’t the type to get lonely though and I’m sure he does enjoy cleaning,” Armin said.

“He sure does,” Hange said. She kept whatever tone to herself, instead feigning some preoccupation as she shuffled mindlessly through the papers. “Still, we’re living together and taking care of the house is a team job.”

Armin nodded. “You know, you don’t have to work overtime anymore. Jean, Mikasa and I… The queen… Connie… we can handle most of the work. You should spend more time at home--- I don’t even think you ever got rest as commander.”

Hange sighed. “I’m gonna have to think about that. There is a lot I feel like I haven’t done yet. Gimme some time to think about that.”

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” Armin said. He bowed lightly and walked quietly out the room, leaving Hange to ponder that offer.

There were things she hadn’t done. There was a lot of work she still had to deal with but she didn't need the time to consider them.

It was an easy decision to make.

Soon enough Hange had stopped working overtime and she had started to spend a little more time cracking open books and reports from each doctor and writing letters in between.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel at all guilty about shortening work hours.

***

The door of their home opened up to the living room and just behind it was the kitchen.

By evening Hange would find Levi either working at the kitchen, sitting at the dining table or lounging by the sofa.

On the rare days that he wasn’t, he could be in the laundry room.

That was her first thought.

There was something about the eerie silence though that had Hange walking ahead more quickly.

“Levi?” she called out.

There was no reply. The beating of her heart only turned wilder. Hange dropped her bag by the sofa and raced towards the laundry room, just beyond that, was the bedroom.

She didn’t have to go any further though. Levi was slumped on the wall of the living room. A pile of clothes lay toppled over and scattered on the floor right next to him.

“Hange…” It wasn’t a question. Maybe more of a statement. But to Hange it had just been a lifeless name and the blank expression on Levi’s face wasn’t helping it either.

“Hey, I’m here.” Hange bent over and started to pick up the clothes, resting them on one hand.

“Did they get dirty?” Levi pulled at one of the sweaters then held it close to himself.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll put them back in the closet.”

“No, but I need to know, do I need to wash them again.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not as much of a clean freak as you are,” Hange folded the clothes once again and piled them all in. Levi had done his part but Hange couldn’t help but note, in the span of her folding ten, Levi had only folded two.

His was still neater and most likely, if Hange hadn’t caught him, if that accident--- whatever that had been--- that left him slumped on the wall, didn’t happen. He still would have managed to fold everything.

She carried the laundry basket with one arm and lumbered over to their bedroom. Listening closely, she made out the hesitant and clumsy steps of her partner right behind.

“Levi, what happened?” she asked.

“I fell over, the basket fell over, I hit my head on the wall.” He kept his voice soft, his answers straightforward.

“I’ll get some ice. Just lay in bed,” Hange ordered.

That accident must have hurt. For once, Levi was completely obedient, not even attempting to reorganize the clothes on the basket and putting it inside the closet. He didn’t even answer, or crane his neck when Hange entered the room.

She dropped the ice pack on his outstretched palm, guiding his fingers to the top, where it was easiest to hold. “In the morning, if it still hurts, you have to tell me. We’re going to have to take you to the doctor.”

Levi had experienced worse. Explosions, man eating monsters and war. Regardless, just a strong smack to the right part of the head was enough to kill. Hange had worked long enough with army medics to know.

He gripped the ice pack only lightly and once again, Hange was tempted to run her fingers over his and grip his hands guiding them over it. It wasn’t a physical issue. Levi was still strong, she was sure of that.

Still, Levi was stronger than that, he always had been. Hell, he was dubbed humanity’s strongest for a reason.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

“No. I’m not,” Levi admitted.

“We should see a doctor tomorrow then?”

Levi turned to his side, his front to the window. “It’s not that. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“But something else hurts right? Something you can’t explain?” Hange suggested.

Levi didn’t respond after that and Hange didn’t prod further. She started to reorganize the clothes one on top of the other, noting then how Levi had managed to fold them neatly into piles.

Hers and his, divided like they’ve always been. Staring for longer than usual, not having to consider the day in front or any other things, she started to note that there was a slight difference.

There were small stains on the white, some white on the red and just colors where she didn’t remember having them been before. “Levi, maybe we should get two hampers, a light and a dark one? So you don’t mix them up?” Hange suggested.

Silence.

Hange turned back to the hamper, the clothes still untouched, clumsily folded on top of one another. She brought it back to the bed and held Levi’s left hand towards her.

“You want me to teach you how to tell the lights from the darks?” Hange asked.

Levi had been holding the ice pack to his head for the past few seconds and he turned to Hange, eyes half open.

“Sit up.” She pulled lightly at Levi and it turned out, she didn’t have to pull for long. That order was enough to get him to a sitting position.

“I’ll teach you the lights from the darks,” Hange said. She pulled out one of Levi’s sweaters, a pure white with a few colored spots from washings. “This one is your white sweater…” She started. She guided Levi’s fingers through it, pressing his fingers closer on the areas where the threads bunched together, making up some intricate design.

As she guided his fingers through, as she felt his fingers pinch at it, she started to notice it herself. The seams, the hems, the collar, they all gave the sweater a unique character, and the color was starting to seem almost negligible.

“I can still tell the whites from the darks,” Levi said.

“How much can you see?”

Levi nodded and gave her a wry smile, the first in a long time. “Just enough to pick up some colors.”

“I think you may have mixed some of the lights and darks together. ,” Hange said.

Levi seemed deep in thought for a second. “It’s dim in the laundry room. When it’s darker, I can’t see as much, maybe that’s it,” he explained. He pinched at the hems as he spoke, running his hand quickly over it, as if trying to distract himself. “I just have to do better at figuring it out.”

“But now...” Hange said. “If you can’t tell the whites from the darks…”

“I can. It’s just harder to tell at times.” Levi hummed. “Let me try to explain it… When in a room, I don’t see anything. But in a well lit room, like now…” He paused for a second longer.

Hange was starting to get impatient. “Like now?”

Levi fell back on the bed and stared up ahead at the ceiling. “Hange, tell me, how many colors can you see in the dark?”

***

She did the laundry again that night, particularly for the more dirtied bundle.

In the dim laundry room, she closed her eyes for a moment, just for long enough to understand it herself. Her eyes would naturally search for light and in the darkness, they still seem to find it.Yet, Hange was sure that that was the closest thing she could get to total darkness.

Once she finished, she retired to the bedroom, turned on the lights of the room once again. Unlike before, it did nothing to wake Levi or even have him stirring, half asleep. His own condition had actually made him a better sleeper over time.

Hange put whatever dried up clothes back in the closet and just to answer the burning question for herself, she didn’t turn off the lights. She fell back on the bed, just like Levi had done hours ago. She closed her eyes tightly and the lights above stayed within range for just a second longer and the longer Hange made sense of herself, the clearer it started to become.

Darkness wasn’t pitch black. Darkness wasn’t nothing. It was a slew of shadows, lines and glimmers. It was a dark blue, a light blue in places and if she searched for it, a subtle shade of green.

Eyes were just constantly looking for something to see.

How many colors can you see in the dark? The darkness was endless and Hange was sure, if she looked hard enough, she may even see every shade in the spectrum.

That should be the same for Levi right? Hange thought to herself. She turned to a sleeping Levi, tracing the lines under his eyes, the tense jaw and when she stared for a little too long, she was cruelly reminded, the difference was right there.

She could open her eyes when she grew tired from searching for colors. Levi couldn’t.

An attempt at an awkward apology, Hange turned towards Levi, pulled herself closer, pressed her forehead on his, found rhythm in his breathing, picked out the moment the rhythm broke. Then there was a light brush on her cheeks, light yet ticklish enough for Hange to just ponder for a second how long Levi’s eyelashes really were.

She let out that laugh that tickled at her throat and she pressed her lips against his.

“You can stop now. I’m awake,” Levi’s lips pulled up into a smile. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” Hange answered almost instinctively.

“You never laugh at nothing.”

Hange sighed then she turned on her back. “I was just thinking about something.”

“About…”

“You know, there are things the eyes can’t see right? But are still very much there?” As soon as it came out of her mouth, all to a dead response, Hange realized, it wasn’t funny at all.

It had never been funny. It was just a glimmer of hope and she just hadn’t felt a glimmer of hope in a while.

***

There were colors in total darkness. There were colors the eyes couldn’t see but they were colors that the ears, the nose, the tongue, the skin had no problems making.

Getting Levi acquainted with them was a daunting task.

It took weeks to get Levi familar with the hems of each sweater, the collars of his shirts and the areas were seams split wide enough to make a noticeable dent just between his fingers.

Soon enough, Hange realized, Levi didn’t need the dent, or he didn’t need the areas were the strings awkwardly bunched up together. Sometimes the areas were the threads lined up perfectly were enough of a hint.

How Levi could have figured it out, Hange could never tell but progress was still progress.

The work at the kitchen continued, the cleaning continued and most days, Hange could pretend it was just like before. If she avoided looking closely at how Levi’s hands hovered lightly over surfaces, how he pressed his hand against the wall before he made a turn, she could pretend he was just slightly clumsier than usual.

And most days it did work. Levi was always improving, getting used to whatever view he had every morning. Sometimes, she could even pretend he wasn’t struggling at all.

A ripple in whatever progress they set for themselves came as a knock on the door and a surprise visit.

It was a lazy Saturday morning, Hange was lounging on the couch, Levi was preparing lunch when they first knocked on the door.

“Is this a bad time?” Armin asked.

It wasn’t and Hange didn’t think it ever would be. The cadets always had a special place in her heart. She didn’t need too much to reassure Armin. She let the wide smile play at her lips, she then let her head cock to the side.

“You wanna stay for lunch?” Hange asked. She turned to Levi who was looking up at them too, his eyes wide with surprise.

“We can make a little more,” Levi volunteered.

Armin shook his head. “No thank you. Mikasa and I will be visiting Eren’s grava after this. We just wanted to drop some things over.” He dropped the plastic bag on the coffee table and turned to Levi. “It’s been a while. We don’t see you go out as much anymore.”

“Hange offered to help with groceries so there’s no need to,” Levi explained, his expression completely deadpan, enough of a reminder for Hange that they never did tell anyone about.

“I noticed you’ve been sending a lot of mail… to doctors I think? And I saw you’ve been reading a lot of medical books so when these were sent over to the office, I thought you’d want them as soon as possible. They arrived at the office this morning.”

“From where?”

“It was sent with a letter apparently, from the medical society of Marley,” Armin explained.

“Yeah, I requested that.” Hange settled on the sofa and ran her hands through the package. The medical society of Marley was one of the most technologically advanced yet somehow, had been the most difficult to contact.

She unwrapped the packaging to find books. A quick look at the cover and Hange found they were case studies. She ran her eyes over the cover, then quickly through the pages. She took a deep breath.

Nothing at all about a cure, yet many pages about management, symptoms and cases. Then she ran her hand over the letter. She ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter with one flick.

Hange had always been a quick reader but she only needed one second to realize, she didn’t need to read the rest of the letter.

Her eyes had only been searching for one word, cure.

No cure. That was the only answer she found..

“You okay?” MIkasa asked. Suddenly, she was right next to Hange.

Hange only needed to feel the hand on her shoulder and to see the surprised look on MIkasa’s face to accept it as truth. She was trembling, she was shaken. And for just a moment, Hange was feeling hopeless.

“I’m fine. Just a bit disappointed with the research I was doing.” “If I may ask… what research?” Armin asked hesitantly.

Hange managed a shrug and an almost uninvested expression. “Something about being able to see colors in the dark.”

And it looked like that had been enough. Mikasa and Armin didn’t prod more deeply than that.

Apparently, the disease would progress. Maybe over months, maybe over years but eventually, the subject would become completely blind.

The literature called him a subject but the word subject had always felt cold and calculating. Hange didn’t like the word patient either. He was Levi and he would always be Levi.

Tired of the negativity, the coldness, Hange put away the books, somewhere where even Levi wouldn’t find it to somewhere even she would need a chair to reach.

To hell with it, she wouldn’t be missing it for a long time. She was in a new stage of the process, the grieving process, the denial process, the acceptance process, one of those.

Either way, one thing was sure, it still fucking hurt like a bitch. And in her own way, she knew she had to find a way to shake it off. She opened the door then before leaving she let out a final greeting. “Just going out for a bit!” She said loud enough that Levi should hear.

And she slammed the door behind her. To clear her head, Hange went out to the streets and made the calming journey around the block.

They lived in a quiet residential area within what used to be walled Sinna, conducive for walks any time of the day. And Hange had learned over the years, keeping to some steady rhythm when she walked, keeping her breaths relaxed, she could easily take back whatever control she had lost.

Hange then tried another trick.

The end of the block led down to a downward slope and right in front of her was blue sky, framed by buildings on both sides. Out of instinct, or maybe just out of a burning curiosity Hange hadn’t tapped into yet, she closed her eyes.

Blue. Her view behind closed eyes was a light blond for just a split second.

Light blue but it never turned a dark blue. Then she started to search for contours between the light and the dark, then shapes, some of the perfectly geometric, other almost incomprehensible blobs.

Then Hange took a deep breath. The early autumn air around her seemed to tickle at her nostrils, the rustle of the leaves seemed to brush at her ears. Her lips were dry and they tasted a little bit like metal.

“Excuse me.” Of all things, it had been a passerby just behind her who had pulled her out of her trance.

“Sorry about that,” Hange responded almost instinctively. She moved to the side of the sidewalk, stood by and watched.

And having just fallen out of the last trance, suddenly Hange was finding anything to focus on. “What’s that big bag?” Hange asked, biting her lip soon after. Who the hell asks that out of nowhere?

“It’s a guitar,” the stranger asked matter-of-factly. If she had been at least a little offended by Hange, she didn’t show it.

In fact, the conversation seemed to flow a little more easily after that. It turned out there was a shop only a few minutes away, long enough for that instrument to draw Hange in.

She was out for an hour longer than she had expected. That one hour though was long enough to pick out a guitar, pick out some easy sheet music and guidebooks.

Hange came home late that evening but with two hands full with impulse purchases, brimming with newfound excitement.

***

Even in the deepest blackness, there were colors that shone clearly.

You just have to look for it. Hange whispered to herself, an attempt at self motivation.

One bout of serendipity and Hange found a new way to pass the time, that same time she had used up messaging every researcher and eye doctor in the international network.

In the evenings, she was reading tabs and sometimes, she was trying out the different chords, allowing her fingers to slowly get used to the soft nylon of the guitar, and the riffs which were unnatural to the touch.

One week into it, she was making music but admittedly, she was a little sloppy. A day or so after that, Hange decided to pick the sound for herself when she closed her eyes.

When she graduated from awkwardly pressing riffs and hearing unnecessary splats as she strummed, she opened up the lyrics.

And she only had to sing it once to feel the almost consoling burn in her throat, the rush in her cheeks and just her chest full, brimming with some cross between excitement and relief.

Eyes closed, hands moving, she seemed to see more colors, some colors she swore she had never seen before.

“Hey, can you sing that song?”

“Which song?”

“The one you sing on the balcony.”

Hange let out that wry smile. She looked away in instinct as she felt the blood rush up her cheeks, only reminded a second later, Levi wouldn’t have seen it. “You can hear it? I could have sworn I closed the door.”

“I still heard you, perfectly clear,” Levi retorted.

Hange cocked her head to the side, suddenly feeling like a five year old stealing from a cookie jar. Then she wondered, why the hell she had been hiding it in the first place. In her decades of managing squads and armies, somehow, she wondered how she made a mistake out of a stupid yet simple decision.

“I wanted it to be perfect before I let you listen,” Hange admitted. “But now that I think about it, maybe you would have enjoyed the process… of me learning?”

“I wouldn’t know if you don’t let me listen.”

Levi rarely made eye contact with Hange those days. There was no reason too when there was nothing to connect with. At that moment, he seemed to have deliberately met her gaze with his own unseeing one, an expectant look on his face.

Even before Levi had voiced the request, Hange was sure, she could never say no. She padded to one end of the room, taking the guitar hanging that sat on one of the shelves, and pulled it close to her.

“It’s an easy song,” Hange warned.

“Music is still music,” Levi said. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing.”

Hange played the opening chords, slowing down just a bit as she felt the bed shake, then a warm body pressed on her back. Levi had lain on the bed, pressed his forehead to her back, or that was the quickest guess she could make as she concentrated on coordinating her still very amateur fingers.

The opening chorus passed peacefully. To Hange, that was enough of an achievement.

“What’s the song?” Levi asked.

“Ir’s called ‘You are my sunshine.’ There was someone who met me at the music store and she recommended that since it’s easy to learn. Is it too mushy for you?” Hange asked, stifling a nervous laugh.

“It sounds just fine to me,” Levi said.

Hange saw that as a cue to continue. She strummed again, opening with a few chords then the first verse.

Even laying on the bed, seemingly unmoving, Hange seemed to sense investment, attentiveness from Levi. Maybe Levi was just waiting for his own chance to speak.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away,” Levi let it out as a whisper but Hange couldn’t help but pick out the remnants of a melody that seemed to die at his throat.

“Maybe if we sing that line enough times, it might just work.” A shoddy attempt to lighten the mood. It was only after the second verse did Hange realize how depressing the song actually had been. She turned to Levi, an apologetic smile on her face.

“I still see the sun you know,” Levi said. When you open the windows in the morning, or the curtains, I still see the white, sometimes I see yellow. When the sun rises, I still know that it’s morning.” Levi was surprisingly talkative or Hange suspected, there was something about how she was carrying herself that Levi could have sensed from his place in bed.

Hange pushed the guitar right under the bed, and lay in bed next to him. “You told me before, you still see other colors. But it still hurts right?”

“It does,” Levi admitted.

“Then you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t. What I wanna do is I wanna try to enjoy whatever is still there,” Hange reached her hand just a little to her left, close enough to just grip at his fingertips. “But i won’t be able to help, if you don’t tell me what you want to work on.”

Levi hummed for a second. “Work on your guitar skills.”

“I don’t need that reminder. What else?”

“Just help around the house more I guess…” Levi’s voice lacked fervor and Hange wasn’t at all convinced.

“You can think harder than that,” Hange responded firmly.

Levi didn’t respond immediately. And maybe the silence between them had worked to rack Levi’s brain. His answer was unexpected, simple but it seemed to make sense. “I want you to describe things to me.”

“Things?”

“How our house looks like, how the outside looks like every season, how you look like.” Levi answered. “One day,I’m going to forget how everything looks like, the colors, the trees, our house.... What if I told you, I’m scared of forgetting how you look like?”

It was easy enough to give. “I’m still here. I’ll look in the mirror and I’ll tell you how I look like,” Hange said. She stood up, walked towards the mirror next to her desk, making out whatever she could under the dim moonlight. “Big nose, always chapped lips, messy brown hair, small eyes.”

“Did you know, your eyes are bigger without your glasses.”

Instinctively, Hange pulled out her glasses, only to be greeted by whatever blur she had become in the mirror. “I can’t see it now.” But she was a quick thinker. Hange pressed her fingers to her good eye, tracing her eyelids then her bags underneath.

It took a little more than a few seconds to thread through them carefully and she could never tell if they really were big without comparing them to anyone else.

It wasn’t about what she saw though, it was about what Levi wanted to see.

She walked back to the bed, holding Levi’s hand between her finger and she pressed his good hand to her eyelids. “Will this let you remember?” She only had to guide his hands through her eyelids before he took the reigns. His hands travelled lightly over her lashes, then to the bags underneath, resting heavily and long enough for Hange to feel the pressure to her bones.

The hands fell to her large nose, then as if falling over a cliff, they fell almost quickly over her lips. Suddenly, Hange was self conscious of how dry they were.

“You should lick your lips more,” Levi whispered.

Hange couldn’t even find the right moment to let her tongue out and lick them. Levi’s fingers stayed for a second longer on her lips, heavily enough that it was difficult to even mouth words in between.

Still, she attempted. “Have your lips always been dry?” She pressed her own fingers to his lips,

“You’ve kissed them before right?”

She saw that as some cue to draw nearer and maybe it was. Levi didn’t turn away or pull away. Instead, he did his part and their lips locked.

Levi’s lips weren’t dry. And Hange wondered how many times they had kissed, how many times they had even touched lips yet it had never been so much as even a passing thought.

Eyes closed, she felt it, she tasted it then she relished the in betweens. In complete darkness, there were still colors to expereince, colors to see. It was just a matter of finding it.

Levi’s hands fell forward, landing on her neck, then down to the collar of her shirt.

She didn’t want it to end there. Hange held his hand just an inch away from her, before guiding it down towards the buttons of her polo and Levi got the message.

He held both hands a hairs breadth away from the buttons of her shirt, then pressed at them slowly one by one. Despite not having any visual aids, he still had close to perfect coordination.

He then pulled at her undergarments, delicately and slowly and Hange did her part. She pulled at his own sweater, flinging it to the side of the room before falling next to him on the bed.

“Do you want me to describe anything for you?” Hange offered.

It was late at night, the room was dim save for the moonlight, there wouldn’t be much to talk about beyond their bodies half naked right next to each other. Still, if Levi asked, it would have been worth a try.

“No. I’ll figure it out for myself,” Levi said. Once again, his hands were pressed on her face, this time tracing her cheeks. They sat for a second on the cheeks just below her eyes, before falling onto her chin.

Somehow, by just the movements of his fingers, Hange could pick out a little of what he could have been seeing. Levi didn’t have to see it for her to feel it.

He had pressed his fingers over the apple on her cheeks then right down to the dimples underneath and even in the darkness, the circular movements seemed to goad whatever smile out of Hange.

“Are you done?” Hange asked, keeping her voice light, keeping the laugh in them very much apparent.

“How long will you give me?”

“Take as long as you need,” Hange said, The last thing she would have wanted would be for Levi to forget.

“How much will you let me do?”

“We’ll do what you want.”

Levi smirked. “You’re pretty generous tonight.”

“I have one condition.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“After this… after everything we do tonight, I want you to tell me about it. Tell me about everything you see in the dark.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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