#i know it sounds so dramatic but consider i am not allowed to go anywhere exceot school and then back here again and again

[thursdayg1rl]

need to stop wasting all of my time thinking about every single wsy my life could hsve been different instead of preparing for my interview

[miekasa]

call me (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: fluff, humor? you can be the judge of that i suppose, levi is quiet and often practical, but you cannot convince that there’s not a small part of him that doesn’t enjoy having shit to hold over people lol

↯ notes: this is also cross-posted from another blog, but i tweaked it a bit to fit levi and rewrote/edited parts i wish the world had never seen </3 also i’m reposting bc i was an idiot who accidentally deleted it on mobile rip 

↯ word count: 1.3k

↯ summary: drunk you is not amused by the man who keeps trying to coerce you into his apartment; even if that man is your boyfriend and that apartment is his apartment.

“Alright mister, I’m trusting you for now because you’re Erwinnie’s friend, and Erwinnie is my best friend,” you hiccup, wagging your pointer finger as threateningly as you can in your current state, “So if he says you’re a good person, you’re probably a good person. Or good enough.”

Levi holds back a knowing smirk, and loops his arm through yours to steady your balance. He doesn’t know how or why Erwin let you get this drunk, but he’s at least glad the blonde was sober enough to call him to pick you up instead of letting you get in a cab; or worse, attempt to take the bus.

“I’m so very glad you trust me,” he says, voice flat as your wrap your other arm around his bicep. You hum back, a little spacey and like you maybe didn’t hear what he said.

You’re honestly pretty cute when you’re drunk. It’s not something he gets to see often, as you don’t allow yourself to let go frequently; nor do you usually have the time to. And it’s not that he particularly wishes for you to be drunk to the point where you can barely stand, or remember his name, but all things considered, Levi is happy that your general drunk disposition is happy, too. 

He waves Mike goodbye as he wrangles Erwin into his car, not holding back his smile this time as you wave over-excitedly at the blonde in the passenger seat, calling his name loudly to tell him goodnight and that you’ll miss him, like you hadn’t already told him goodnight three minutes ago, or spent the last three hours with him drinking. Yeah, you’re cute. 

Thankfully, Levi doesn’t live too far from the restaurant you and Erwin were at, so the both of you are home after a twenty minute walk—what should have been fifteen minutes, but was prolonged by your drunken fascination with a squirrel on a public bench.

You start to wobble more when Levi unlaces your arms to get his keys out of his pocket, and he moves his right hand to rest against the small of your back so you don’t fall. However, drunk you is not so entertained by the idea of his hands anywhere near your waist as sober you would have been.

“Hey, hey, hey—hold it right there, mister!” you stutter, words a bit too loud for the confined space of Levi’s hallway at three in the morning, “I am not going in—into that suspicious apartment with you.”

You stumble as you try to remove Levi’s hand from your waist, and he tries to steady your balance again, but push him away more forcefully, staggering into the wall behind you.

“Ah, bitch,” you curse, holding your head and groaning. The pain clearly isn’t enough to stop your accusations against Levi, as you’re back to wagging your finger at him, even hunched over from your drunken stupor, “See, this is your fault.”

Levi sighs. He doesn’t know why you’re holding your head, because you hit your back, and from what he can tell, you shouldn’t have hurt yourself that badly. He’ll take a closer look at you once you’re inside. That’s if he could get you inside to begin with.

He can’t wrangle you and open the door at the same time, so he goes for the latter, finally pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock his apartment door, then attempts to move you inside. Keyword: attempts; because anytime he puts his hands remotely near you, you slap them away.

“Come on, we have to go inside,” he grunts, trying again to get a hold of your arm, but you whack him away harshly. For a drunk person, you seem to have the strength and dexterity of a pro-athlete all of a sudden. Where was all this coordination when he was trying to get you up the stairs five minutes ago?

“No!” you growl—once again, too loudly for the time and place. “Haven’t you heard of the saying no means no, mister? I might be drunk, but this is not my apartment, and I am not going in there to have sex with you!”

“I’m trying to help you go to bed. I’m not going to try and have sex with you.” Levi takes a deep breath. This could sound really bad if anyone else woke up and heard the two of you. 

But you’re not having it, crossing your arms and turning your body so that you’re now facing the wall, your back towards a less-than-impressed Levi. “Well, I don’t believe you. I’m going to call Erwinnie tell him you’re being a bad friend, and then Erwinnie is going to call my boyfriend and he’s going to come and pick me up.”

“Oh yeah?” Levi drawls, leaning against his door frame, watching your silhouette as you clumsily search for your phone in your pockets, “Why don’t you just call your boyfriend then?”

You turn on your heels as best you can, and muster up your most menacing glare. It’s not menacing in the slightest, and it actually makes Levi crack a smile, which you do not take lightly; but that only makes him smile further, because sober you doesn’t like it when he’s not fazed by your self-proclaimed intimidation tactics, either.

“Fine,” you huff, finally putting your phone to your ear, “But you’re going to be sorry, because Levi is going to come here and kick your ass.”

Levi chuckles, feeling his own phone ring in his back pocket, “I bet he is.”

“He is,” you insist, stomping your foot for dramatic effect, “He might not be that tall, but he’s strong as hell, plus he’s handsome, and he doesn’t let people fuck around with me, so say your prayers, mister.”

The following afternoon is far less than pleasant. You feel groggy, tired, and like everything is moving in slow motion. Piece by piece, your memories of your night out with Erwin start to come back to you, but you can’t seem to recall anything beyond your fifth margarita.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Levi calls, sarcastically, upon entering the bedroom.

His voice and presence surprises you, but then the realization washes over you that you’re in his apartment and not your own. You’re not sure why yet, but you could probably take a guess.

“Did you take me home last night?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement, nodding his head towards the bedside table, where you find a bottle of water. Levi watches you as you move to hang your legs off the side of the bed and reach for the bottle, groaning in the process. He mentally notes that he should make you breakfast—or, well, at this point, brunch—after you go shower, so that you can take an Advil for the pain.

He moves across the room to sit beside you on the bed, careful to not disrupt too much as to make you spill the water on the sheets. “You know, for someone who’s so happy-go-lucky when they’re drunk, you put up quite the fight yesterday.”

“I did?” you turn to him, capping the bottle, eyes wide with surprise, “You were probably sleeping and you had wake up and come deal with me, I’m sorry, Levi.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures you, an almost uncharacteristic and sly smile playing on his lips, “You always say something interesting that keeps me entertained. It makes up for it.”

“Dear god, what was it this time?” you groan, throwing your head back, “I didn’t confess my feelings for you again did I? This is, what, like the sixth time since we’ve been dating? I’m such an embarrassing drunk.”

“Not a confession this time,” he chuckles, “The opposite. Maybe worse.”

Levi fishes his phone from his pocket, and pulls up his voicemails before handing it to you. Curious—and a little bit scared—to find out what could possibly be worse than confessing to your boyfriend of almost four years that you’re in love with him and sad that you’re not dating him? You’re not sure that it could get more embarrassing than that until you click on Levi’s most recent voicemail and hear your own voice crackling through the speaker of his phone.

“—What, hey, fuck off, mister! I don’t want to go into your scrubby apartment! I am happily dating Levi Ackerman, and when he gets here he is going to grand slam your sorry ass into the ground!”

[usermischief]

♝Pairing: Stisaac ♝Warnings | Tags: Slice of life, engaged!Stisaac, Polish Stiles Stilinski ♝Words: 884 ♝ Prompt: In bed at 2 am, blissfully drowsy + "Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up to debate (for anon) ♝ Mini Fic Roulette: 27/∞ 

---

“There is not a single bone in my entire body that does not hurt,” Isaac announces, collapsing onto the bed and half on top of Stiles. Of course, he does not move. 

Stiles swats Isaac’s wet curls away. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

Muttering something under his breath, Isaac pokes his side. “I’m not dramatic.”

Pressing this is pointless, but that doesn’t change the fact that Stiles is right. His dear fiancé keeps making a mountain out of a molehill. To be fair, Isaac has been against their walk through the forest from the very beginning. Considering their history, he can’t even blame him for being hesitant. Still, they aren’t anywhere near Beacon Hills. In fact, they aren’t even in the States. They’re in Łódź, currently living in his grandparents’ guest room while Stiles is showing Isaac where his mum grew up and where he spent a significant amount of his childhood — meaning Stiles has wasted hours and hours in Łagiewnicki Forest with his cousins, playing hide and seek in and around the chapels, making fun of people believing the well's water in there is miraculous — today, he’d bet his ass it’s cursed — or spending his days swimming and playing at Arturówek lake with his mother’s side of the family. 

This place is like a home to him. He could find his way around the forest in the middle of the darkest of nights. So, when his babcia brought it up during dinner, Stiles wanted Isaac to see the chapels. Nobody ever told him that people are doing sketchy shit out there after dark. 

People being a coven of witches. 

A quite unfriendly coven of witches to be exact. 

Stiles closes his eyes, playing with his engagement ring. “You love me.”

Huffing out a breath, Isaac hides his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck. “Do I love you? Yes.” His smile presses against Stiles’ skin, making him shudder in the most delicious way. “Do I like you?” Isaac makes a contemplative sound. “That’s still up to debate.”

This time, Stiles pokes him hard enough he rolled off him with a groan. “You’re mean.” 

“Well,” Isaac says, dragging Stiles closer to him with a quiet laugh, “I should be allowed to be mean if you keep going out looking for trouble.”

Stiles wraps his arm around Isaac’s chest. “I don’t go looking for trouble,” he mutters, closing his eyes again, “trouble usually finds me.” 

“Okay, Harry Potter.”

Chuckling, Stiles flicks his fingers and plunges the room into almost complete darkness. The only light comes from the moon. It’s weirdly comforting. 

“Show off.”

Stiles grins, kissing Isaac’s jaw. “You love it.” 

“You know what I’d love more?” Isaac runs his fingers over Stiles’ back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Unsurprisingly, he does not wait for a reply. “That the next time you hear ominous chanting in the middle of a forest you remember that the appropriate response is to run.” 

“They could have been nice!”

“Oh, please.” Isaac sighs, poking Stiles’ side insistently, “when are they ever nice?”

Stiles grimaces. Honestly, that’s a very fair point. The supernatural creatures or those with some type of superhuman abilities they come across are usually rather unfriendly. Which is extremely rude. They’re nice. Well, most of the time. 

They certainly don’t try to kill everyone who says hello. 

“Let’s not tell my grandparents there were witches six miles from their house.” Stiles brushes his fingers along Isaac’s side. “They’re still working through their grandson-in-law being a werewolf.” 

“I still can’t believe you told them.” Isaac sounds almost half asleep. Not surprising. They’ve been on their feet for almost twenty hours; with traveling, dinner with his grandparents, and taking the stroll through Łagiewnicki Forest — including the accidental incident with the witches. 

Stiles reaches for the blanket, dragging it over the two of them. “Well, I didn’t wanna lie to them for the rest of our lives.” 

Humming, Isaac curls his arm tighter around him. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Do you like me too?” 

“My answer heavily relies on how much sleep you let me get tonight.” Well, that certainly sounds like a big fat accusation. Granted, it’s fair. However, it isn’t Stiles’ fault that Isaac is such a light sleeper and wakes up the second Stiles even considers getting up because he can’t fall asleep — and he also doesn’t force him to stay up with him either. It’s one of Isaac’s most endearing qualities.

All of that just proves that Isaac is way too nice to him. Well, aside from the rather unfair approach of deciding how much he likes him in the morning. But Stiles decides that he’s not going to argue that. Instead, he kisses Isaac’s shoulder and settles against him. Tomorrow is going to be a long day as well. His poor fiancé — Stiles fidgets with the ring around his finger again, still awfully giddy even thinking about their engagement — is about to meet the rest of his family. Luckily, his cousins are all fluent in English, so Stiles doesn’t need to translate too much. But his cousins’ children are a handful, and knowing them, they are going to adore Isaac. 

“I love you,” Stiles whispers, closing his eyes.

Isaac hugs him tighter to him for a couple of seconds. “I love you too.” 

[realcube]

characters dealing with a deep sleeper! s/o  (_　_)。゜zｚＺ

characters: bokuto, oikawa & saiki k 

tw// swearing, fluff, mentions of death, illness, funerals, sexual references 

Kōtarō Bokuto

he literally thought you died 

this was your first time sleeping over at his home and last night, y’all were stuffing your faces with treats until your stomachs ached

you had mentioned several times how you were feeling sick - even after bokuto took you out for a late-night run - but he just told you to take a pain-killer and sleep it off

but now he was kinda regretting not calling someone to help 

like what if the sickness was a symptom to a deadly disease which took you overnight?

plus, he had tried everything he could think of to wake you up: he shook you, he blasted music from his phone, he opened the curtains to allow blinding light to shine on you, he flicked spits of cold water onto your face and he literally wafted cookies around the room in hopes you’d catch the scent 

but it was no use as even after all that, you didn’t move an inch

he tried to check your pulse which he believed to be on the wrist but he couldn’t think it 

so either he was too stupid to find the exact location or......you didn’t have a pulse

he’ll admit, it was an eerie thought that there could be a dead person in his bed rn but even he considered that a rather outlandish idea 

how could a person as healthy as you just die overnight? so he did what any reasonable person would do in that situation-- no, not call a doctor

he held a funeral for his beloved s/o 💀

he gathered all five of the plushies laying around his room (all of which were owls) and lined them up on the foot of the bed 

‘we are all gathered here today to celebrate the epic life of my partner, (y/n) (l/n).’ he sobbed into the sleeve of the black blazer he had pulled out of his closet, ‘gone too soon.’

silence. but in his mind he was met by a chorus of ‘aww’s and whimpers from the crowd

‘i loved them. (y/n) was my rock; they helped me through some of the hardest points in my life--’

his speech was cut off upon hearing one of the audience members pipe up, ‘bo, what are you doing?’

a wave of excitement washed over him as he scurried up to the line of guests, closely examining each one, ‘i didn’t know y’all could talk!’

you rolled your eyes before leaning forward and gently tapping the back of his head, ‘it’s me.’

upon laying his eyes on you, healthy and alive, his lips curled into a foolishly large grin as he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, ‘(Y/N), you’re alive!’ he cried

you gasped at his rather dramatic reaction before slowly melting into his embrace, ‘yes, i am.’

as your lips parted from the skin of his jaw and he slowly let his arms fall from your waist, you finally inquired, ‘did you hold a funeral for me?’

bokuto’s eyes-widened at your ‘crazy’ suggestion, ‘uhhhh, nooooo.’

if his elongating of each word wasn’t enough to show that he was lying, the dead giveaway would have to be the sheet of A4 paper with ‘(Y/N)’S FUNERAL 😭’ written on it that was stuck to the door with blu-tac

ignoring his completely false reply, you leaned back on the bed and picked up on the owl plushies, gently stroking it’s soft fur, ‘are these the guests? why are there only five?’

bokuto shrugged, picking up one himself and absentmindedly attempting to balance it on your head, ‘seven; if you count me and you.’

you giggled, about to make a inquire about the names of each guest until bokuto suddenly through his arms around you again 

‘why didn’t you tell me that you are such a deep-sleeper before?! i was so worried - i thought you died! please never die on me again, (y/n)?’

you smiled, pulling back to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, ‘i promise.’

Tōru Oikawa

he would take advantage of this opportunity lol

the first time y’all slept over together as a couple, he had no idea that you were as deep of a sleeper as you actually are

like he thought you meant ‘i sometimes sleep through my alarms’ deep-sleeper

NOT ‘IT TAKES A WHOLE NATURAL DISASTER TO WAKE ME UP IN THE MORNING’ DEEP-SLEEPER (/h)

anyway, at first, he’d probably just freshen up while you sleep: take a shower, wash his face, brush his teeth, floss etc so he’s no longer effected by that ✨morning crust ✨

but when he pokes his head out of the bathroom and noticed that your sleep asleep, he tries to blow-dry his hair bc he knows how much you like it when it’s all fluffy

but his blow-dryer was quite loud so he put it on for a few seconds to see if it’s wake you up and just as he expected, you were still sound asleep

so he blew-dry his hair until it was that soft texture that you liked so much- all while you were still like (∪.∪ )...zzz even though the blow-dryer was making a racket 

you were still sleeping and upon looking at the time, he realised that it was completely fair considering it was currently half past 8 and he had just woken up extremely early for some unknown reason

he didn’t want to wake you so he was just doing to go out for a run or make breakfast until he caught a glimpse of himself in mirror

o.O

despite his  puffy hair and pearly-white smile, he still looked sloppy

but it was definitely bc of his stained, torn, washed-out pyjamas tbh

he was just wearing an old T-shirt that he’s had for god-knows how long and a pair of grey sweatpants; it wasn’t a look

he had no idea what possessed him to wear such casual nightwear while you were at his house - especially when you chose to wear something so relaxed yet titillating - but he knew that he needed to change

after a while of rummaging through his nightwear drawer, the best he could find was a pair of white, silk, loose-legged trousers which he had bought for a halloween costume many years ago

it was pretty classy though :)) he was sure that you’d like it 

however, he still couldn’t find anything to wear on his top half but there is no fashion problem oikawa can’t solve 

thus, he went shirtless ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

he also threw on some jewellery too, just for the lols

you weren’t awake yet thought, so after he set up some candles to create a ‘mood’, he just sat next to you on the bed, scrolling on his phone and anticipating your reaction once you woke up

for a moment, he thought that he might’ve went when too far but upon taking a look at himself in his front-facing camera, he realised that there was no harm in spicing things up

once he noticed one of your eyes slowly flutter open, he quickly tossed his phone to the side and turned his body to face you, shooting you a kind smile and he gently ran a hand through his fluffy hair, ‘morning, angel~’ he cooed

you grumbled your greeting in response, then proceeded to rub your eyes to make sure you were seeing him correctly, ‘what are you wearing, tōru?’

‘can a guy not dress up for his special someone anymore?’

you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping his chest and going to hop out of bed until he pulled you back down against the sheets

a faint gasp escaped your lips but you were quickly hushed by oikawa pushing his finger against your lips, ‘you’re not going anywhere, (y/n).’

Kusuo Saiki

this was the first time you ever slept over at his house or next to him yet y’all had been dating for year and a half

he was just scared that he might accidently do something crazy in his sleep (bc of his powers ofc) and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you 🥺

you were patient with him though but bc y’all had never woken up together before, he had no idea how deep of a sleeper you are

he thought it was cute at first bc you were laying there like the beauty you are, lookin’ all serene and calm and stuff

but after a while, he got bored on his own  #•̀ ︿ •́

also, you promised to bake macarons with him for breakfast and he was hungry as hell, still he didn’t want to eat without you but if he didn’t wake you up rn to make macarons, he’d surely starve to death while they were in the fridge

on any other day, he’d just try do it himself but when you helped him make food- it just hit different 😍

‘(y/n), wake up.’  he spoke into your mind using his telepathy, while light nudging your arm, ‘i’m hungry.’

you didn’t reply, seeming completely knocked out

he tried the next best thing, holding his annoying alarm noise near (but not too close) to your ear

still nothing, though

his last human attempt was aggressively pulling your blanket away but even after that you showed no signs of waking up so he realised that he’d have to resort to using his physic abilities

he considered using his astral projection to possess your body but he felt as though taking over your body might cross a few boundaries 

but he did try duplicating himself so he could shake you from many different angles but it was still no use

he continued to use his telepathy to try wake you up but it didn’t seem to work either

after multiple different attempts of using his powers to try wake you up; here he was, standing in the middle of some dystopian, apocalyptic scene - alarms ringing in the distant along with sirens, screaming, honking and wails. everything around him seemed to be engulfed by flames which created thick, smoky air 

he wasn’t really sure how he got here but he was pretty sure it started around the time he tried to form an energy ball 

whatever 🤷‍♂️ it’s no biggie

he jumped back in time so he was standing next to your bed once again, exactly where he left off before he created the energy ball

he stared down at your sleeping figure and let out an exasperated sigh as he realised that he’d have to employ one of his most dangerous tactics

he really hoped it didn’t have to come to this

‘(y/n), if you get up right now.’ his voice rung through your head, ‘i speak with my voice.’

just like that, both of your eyes shot open as you hastily sat up on the bed

‘do it, saiki!’ you cheered, a foolishly large grin plastered on your features

and he couldn’t help but smile too 

curse you for being so cute

[calif0rnia-lovers]

favorites.

an: something short and sweet for johnny t.

requested kiss challenge: spin the bottle kiss

pairing: johnny x reader | words: 1.5k |rating: 💙

sum: best friends who flirt nonstop leads to no one in the house believing the two of you are strictly friends. a game of spin the bottle leaves Johnny in his feelings when he’s not the one you kiss.

Friday. Family Night. 9 p.m.

The message was written on the whiteboard, posted on the refrigerator door. After realizing everyone was free at the same time—for the first time in weeks—Charlie had put out the request demand.

Friday morning, she sent out a gentle reminder text to the group chat.

📲 : Have your asses home by 8:30.

The unspoken rule of never upsetting Charlie brought everyone home on time. Showers were taken, food acquired, and a bonfire lit by the time the sun had set.

Three pizzas and half a case of Corona deep, you all have put the stresses of the week behind you.

Charlie stands on a rock, her cell phone recording. Jakes hasn’t even bothered to turn around to watch the action unfold. He’s focused on finishing his slice of pizza, his head shaking as you catch his eye. The newest addition to the house, Mike, is watching with a mixture of horror and admiration. Briggs sends Paige a wink as she proudly watches her dare unfold.

The only one missing from the group is Johnny.

The latest victim of the bottle, Johnny has stopped a nearby group of women, passing on the beach, in their tracks. Stripped, he walks towards the waves. The latest additions to his audience bring a grin to his lips.

“All the way in, J-Man!” Briggs calls as Johnny comes to a stop at the shoreline.

Johnny doesn’t need words of encouragement. He runs directly into the water. The cheers he gets become muffled as Johnny disappears beneath the surface of the darkened waves. Upon his return to the group, Johnny manages a quick bow before reaching for his discarded pile of clothes.

Charlie swipes them, prompting the smile on Johnny’s face to stretch into a grin.

“Stop being shy,” Charlie giggles as Johnny's eyes briefly drift to the camera. “Own your dare--”

“Charlie!” Tossing Johnny a nearby towel, Jakes rolls his eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Shut up, Jakes." Johnny allows Charlie one more view of his smile before he rolls his eyes. "You can’t say anything for someone who won’t even play with us.”

“I don’t have to,” Jakes smiles as he watches Johnny wrap the towel around his waist. Lifting the crust in his hand, he adds. “I supplied the food.”

Johnny kisses his teeth as he picks up his hoodie.

“Man, whatever. We’re supposed to be bonding with Mikey.”

“I don’t know how me seeing your ass is helping us bond, Johnny.”

“Awe,” Charlie giggles. The kiss she presses against his cheek causes Jakes to roll his eyes. “Don’t be jealous. It’s a great ass.”

“It is,” Paige teases as Johnny sends a wink her way.

Rubbing his palms together, Johnny takes his seat alongside Charlie before reaching forward. The empty beer bottle sits atop one of the pizza bottles, waiting to be spun. The rules are simple. You spin the bottle. You get to ask a simple question once the bottle stops spinning: truth or dare?

“Ya’ll ready?” Johnny’s eyes briefly pass over the circle before giving the bottle a spin.

You all watch as it spins, the bottle a blur, making it impossible to guess who its next victim will be. As the bottle begins to slow, it teeters towards Paige, who sits on your right, before rolling to a stop on you.

A smile finds Johnny’s lips as you pass Paige your drink.

“Alright, baby girl, what'll it be? Truth or dare?”

Despite the length of the game, this is your first time being asked the question. Everyone watches as you silently consider Johnny's question.

According to Mike, truth is the safest route to go. There aren’t many secrets left amongst you and your housemates. You beg to differ. There is one secret you would prefer to stay hidden. With that being the case, you only have one option.

“Alright, JT, dare,” the mischievous glint in Johnny’s eyes causes you to shake your head. “Go ahead, lay it on me.”

Johnny knows the rules. No dares can be repeated.

“Since skinny dipping is out,” Johnny’s gaze remains on you while his voice trails off. To no surprise, he leaves a dramatic pause. His hand strokes his chin as he considers the possibilities. “I dare you to...kiss your favorite person here.”

“Oh my goodness, Johnny!” Paige groans.

“What?” The wide, innocent brown eyes Johnny sends her way prompts Paige to toss her napkin towards him. “It could be anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“My favorite person?” You ask.

“Yep,” Johnny nods, watching as your eyes slowly scan the smiling faces of your friends.

“And I can kiss them anywhere I want?”

Johnny’s brow raises as he considers your question. He opens his mouth to speak, but Paige quickly drowns him out.

“Nope, you can’t add anything else, Johnny.”

Your eyes linger on Briggs. His gaze is playful as his bottle stops just short of his lips.

“Take it easy on me, sweetheart,” he grins. The widening of Johnny’s eyes causing him to add. “I’m down to give you free rein. Kiss me wherever you like.”

“Sorry, Pauly.” A smile finds your lips as you push yourself up. “I might have to catch you next time.”

Paul’s hand finds his heart, his eyes briefly closing as he sighs, “damn.”

You dust the sand off your shorts before stepping over the pizza box. There are only two people sitting before you. Despite the dare being his request, Johnny cannot suppress the butterflies that awaken as your gaze briefly studies him.

The smile on your lips grows as your gaze shifts to Charlie.

The rare sound of laughter drifts from Jakes as you settle on your knees before a smiling Charlie.

“Where do you want it, Miss. DeMarco?”

Charlie’s brow arches as her eyes drop to your lips. “Surprise me.”

You both share a soft smile as you take her face in your hands. The kiss you leave against her lips does not last longer than ten seconds, but it is enough to leave Johnny wide-eyed.

After a few more rounds, everyone decides to call it a night. A few hours of sleep will be needed for work tomorrow. You’re in the kitchen, seated on the island, preparing to bite into the last slice of pizza when Johnny swipes it.

“Hey! What the hell?”

Johnny ignores your widened gaze. He pauses, taking the largest bite he can before picking up the discarded beer bottle alongside you. Adding it to the trash bag in his hand, Johnny continues his execution of trash duty.

“Johnny, I was going to eat that?”

You shift, trying your best to catch sight of him as he rounds the island.

“I’m on kitchen duty,” his words come out muffled through a mouthful of pepperoni. “Whoever cleans up gets the last slice.”

Your nose scrunches. “Since when?”

Your question is met with the clanking of bottles as Johnny drops two more into the black trash bag.

“Since now.” Johnny takes a second bite before tying off the bag. “If I were your favorite person, I would’ve shared. But I'm not so...”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Johnny sits the bag by the back door before coming to a stop alongside you.

You watch as he takes his time finishing the slice of pizza. As he reaches the crust, Johnny glances up to find your arms crossed over your chest. The pout on your lips brings a grin to his.

“Want the last bite?” He offers the crust, narrowly avoiding the shove you send his way.

You shake your head, draining the last of your beer. Johnny silently nibbles on the crust in his hand, his mind trying the best way to ask the question.

You know it’s coming before your empty bottle can touch the countertop.

“I’m not jealous—so don’t take it that way,” Johnny starts as he pushes himself off his elbows.

“I don’t know why I would.”

“But I thought we were best friends—”

“Charlie’s my best friend too.”

The sweet smile on your lips causes Johnny’s eyes to narrow. “But who’s your best friend?”

“Johnny—” The giggle you release does little to ease his expression.

"What? I'm being serious."

"Yeah? So am I."

His expectant gaze remains as it dawns on you that Johnny is awaiting an answer to his question.

“I mean, say an OP went wrong, and you had to save one of us—”

“I would save both of you.”

The matter-of-fact tone in your voice causes Johnny to pause. He shakes his head.

“In this situation, you can’t—”

“In a hypothetical situation, I can’t do whatever I want?”

“No.”

“Fine, I’d save Charlie.” You respond. Johnny’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “She’s a way better shooter than me. I would need her to cover me. Then both of us could save you together.”

Johnny’s gaze drops to the empty bottle sitting on the counter. “That’s messed up.”

You tip the bottle forward as you take in the pout settling on his features. You point it towards him. Laying the bottle on the counter, you watch Johnny study it.

The corner of his lips turns up in a soft smile as you place a kiss against his cheek. You leave a second one for good measure.

“So, I am your favorite?” Johnny grins as you meet his gaze.

Your lips briefly meet his, the action leaving Johnny wide-eyed as you hop off the counter.

“Don’t tell Charlie,” you giggle as you head up the stairs.

rio/johnny tags: @kimljn @binooo98

main tags: @crowngold @cant-decide-at-this-moment @wiccanmetallicrose @themarkblues @gemini0410 @the-jer-bear @leahnicole1219 @abbiesthings @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @starrynite7114 @awkwardtayler @toni9 @queenbeered

@kaystacks17 @richonne4life @cocotheclown @oscars-wifeyyy @jennisdirtyimagines @sadeyesgf @ughdontbeboring @myakai13 @linziland13 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @rosieposie0624 @appropriate-writers-name @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @beiroviski @making-starsdance @seize-the-droid @chaneajoyyy@siempremamita @relaxing-najee @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @toni9

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

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[shurisneakers]

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter. 

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area. 

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major. 

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it. 

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing. 

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it. 

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security. 

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger. 

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on. 

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency. 

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.  

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid. 

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head. 

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.” 

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed. 

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable  narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point. 

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint. 

 It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.  

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain. 

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’. 

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred. 

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you. 

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head. 

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible. 

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him. 

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you. 

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off. 

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.” 

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded. 

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.” 

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.” 

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.” 

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off. 

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback. 

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking. 

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind. 

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years. 

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry. 

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you. 

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself. 

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free. 

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots. 

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song. 

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.” 

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it. 

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence. 

“I’m sorry about your family, man.” 

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body. 

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you. 

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously. 

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward. 

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood. 

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him. 

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.” 

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him. 

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.” 

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly. 

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder. 

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance. 

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.” 

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply. 

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you. 

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser. 

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse. 

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you. 

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.” 

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.” 

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery. 

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

Next part

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

here’s a list of references/foreshadowing to the end all throughout the series!

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

-

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

-

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

-

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently. 
And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

-

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

-

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”

“What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

-

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

[ptersparkers]

the art of ending things (8)

summary: upon realizing you lack skills in the bedroom when a touron asks you out on a date, you turn to jj, a self-proclaimed sexual deviant, for help.

warnings: smut, folks. and typos, probably. 

notes: yes, i am getting a little emotional. this series is my child and i feel like i’m sending it off to college. i’m utterly grateful that all of you were willing to wait weeks for chapter updates and i’m so happy that this little idea that i had turned into something i’m proud of and something i finished. 

as always, co-authored and co-written with @storiesbymads​. i love her and this story (among other things) brought us closer as friends and i think i love this story more for this reason than anything else. 

You thought it was ironic how the sun was shining brightly in your bedroom when you felt anything but happy.

On the night before you woke, Sarah took the liberty to wipe your makeup off with a washcloth as Kiara assisted you in changing into sleep shorts and a sweater. The brunette sat on your bed with you tucked in her arms as you buried your head to avoid been seen by the girls, but Sarah prompted you to look at her so she could clean your tear-stained cheeks.

You couldn’t remember much of last night when you woke up. When your eyes saw the white paint of your ceiling, you looked beside you at Kiara and Sarah laying on either side of you. Kiara was in a peacefully slumber facing the window while Sarah was on your left, her cheeks squished ungracefully against the side of your arm, allowing you a brief moment of amusement before remembering your heartache.

“Anyone hungry?” you asked, your voice croaking. You cleared your throat when Sarah and Kiara said yes, silently moving to your bathroom to brush your teeth and gave the two girls spare toothbrushes to do the same. 

The downstairs living room was a quiet fortress as you recalled your parents being on the mainland until later that evening. Sarah took the liberty to pour each of you a glass of orange juice while Kiara, knowing you didn’t have the energy to make breakfast, pulled out eggs and bacon, and began to work effortlessly as you sat on the high chairs beside the kitchen island. You couldn’t think. Recalling the last thing you remembered at the Boneyard hurt more than you cared to admit and you couldn’t think about the look on JJ’s face when he said he wanted nothing to do with you without feeling like you were going to cry. You figured you could produce enough tears to wipe out the entirety of the Outer Banks by the end of the day with how much you were trying to hold back. The aching headache you had because of how hard you cried last night rang through your head and you winced when the bacon hit the sizzling pan. “Do you want to talk about it?” Kiara asked as she plated the eggs and bacon. “I feel like an idiot,” you said. “C’mon,” Sarah said, sitting next to you as Kiara stood in front of you. “JJ’s the idiot.” “Maybe we’re both idiots.”

“Don’t say that,” Kiara replied. “We all thought JJ was kind of into you until that stunt he pulled last night.” “No,” you said, putting your head in between your hands. You inhaled heavily before letting out a gargantuan sigh. “We’re both idiots. We made this stupid proposition a few weeks ago and I can’t help but feel like I messed up.” “What proposition?” Kiara asked. You shut your eyes and ran your hands over your face “We’ve been, uh, fooling around?” Sarah’s eyes widened. “You mean that? While you were with Trent?” “I mean,” you began, “it’s complicated. Trent and I were never a ‘thing’ if I’m being honest. JJ was nice enough to, um, teach me things.” “Teach you things?” Kiara asked. “What do you…” Her eyes widened. “Oh.” “It’s bad,” you said. “I didn’t think anything would happen because we swore that we wouldn’t let it affect our friendship.” “But part of you had to know it would, right?” Sarah asked. You made a thin line with your lips as you moved the food around with your fork. “I know, I know,” you mumbled. “JJ never said anything and I thought this was going to be over once Trent and I had sex.” “Did you?” You shook your head. “No,” you replied. “I knew I liked JJ when I couldn’t go through with it. I just can’t help but feel like he felt the same way but when I talked to him last night, he said he wanted me to stop caring about our friendship and that he’d do the same.” Kiara and Sarah shared a knowing look while your gaze was fixed itself onto the plate in front of you. Sarah had spoken to John B. about JJ’s seemingly unrequited feelings and Kiara had her own thoughts about how he felt about you. Both girls, observant in their own right, never wanted to say anything for the sake of your relationship with Trent, but now both of them wished they had. “I don’t need either of you to say it, okay? With hindsight, I should’ve known something bad was going to happen.” “We’re here to be your friends,” Sarah reassured. “Neither of us are judging you.” “Thanks,” you muttered. “I can’t help feel like the dumbest person in the world because everything about this is cliche.” “But you didn’t know what was going to happen,” Kiara reasoned. “Kie--” “Don’t ‘Kie’ me,” she said, waving her fork at you. “You asked JJ for help and he agreed. Maybe what happened between the two of you was unconventional but you two are our friends and I don’t think either of you would intentionally hurt the other.” “I can’t stop thinking about how unfair it was to ask him to help me be more confident for Trent,” you scoffed. “First of all, I don’t ever need to explain myself to men, so I don’t know why I felt a temporary urge to prove myself in the bedroom.” You paused to collect your thoughts. “Secondly?” “If JJ did feel anything for me, I put him in a tough situation because at the end of the day, we both knew I would be going back to Trent with the lessons JJ taught me.” “I can’t say I’ve ever had that happen before,” Sarah said with a frown. You bumped your shoulder with hers. “It’s okay. I think I just want someone to listen because I can’t even think about fixing things with him right now. I just feel like I ruined our friendship by asking him to help me out, you know, sexually.” “Listen,” Kiara said, your attention now on her. “Maybe both of you made mistakes, but you’re young. You have so much more to life than a misunderstanding and if JJ really cares about you, then he’ll want to hear what you have to say and whatever you wanted to tell him last night.” “Yeah,” Sarah piped. “You’ve been friends with JJ since birth and you know how he works. I don’t think he’d throw away all those years of friendship on a misunderstanding, especially considering he was tipsy.” “I don’t know,” you groaned. You pushed your plate, which was half eaten, away from you and slouched with your arms crossed over your chest. “I wanted to be an adult about this and set boundaries with him, you know? But I never thought we had to make a no strings attached’ rule because both of us knew what was going on between us wasn’t a booty call.” “He hasn’t been flirting with anyone either,” Kiara said. “Not since you two started, well, what should we call it?” “I guess we were hooking up,” you replied. “That feels weird to say.” The girls in front of you laughed. “Maybe,” said Sarah. “I never even thought about entertaining the idea that JJ and I might end up together until I took Trent around The Cut because he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. That’s when I really knew all of my feelings that I projected onto Trent were for JJ.” “Love works in mysterious ways,” Sarah said, waving her fork for the dramatics. “You cheesy shit,” Kiara said, sticking her tongue at the blonde. You cracked a smile and both girls felt their heart swell at making you do so in a time when you felt like you couldn’t. “Well, let’s not think about it today,” Sarah suggested. “I know Kie doesn’t have a shift today and I’m free. We could order take out and maybe have a movie marathon? We could go to the beach if you’re feeling up to it?” “Sarah, does your dad still have that huge tent he bought when you were little?” “In the back of my garage.” “And Kie, remember when we bought those lights that we strung around the poles in my backyard and that mini projector we begged your dad to buy?” Kiara clapped. “I already know where you’re going with this.” She pointed at Sarah. “You drive with Sarah and help her get the tent. I’ll grab my lights and we can meet at the supermarket to buy some snacks?” “Sounds like a plan!” Sarah exclaimed. Temporarily, you forgot about the boy who filled your void before making it feel empty again. JJ, on the other hand, woke up an hour before Pope and John B. in the spare bedroom at the Chateau. His plan for the night before had been to drink until he couldn’t feel his emotions anymore, but he’d wound up unsuccessful after having had two cups of beer and a weak shot of expensive, watered down vodka a Kook had brought to the Boneyard. He recalled everything that happened. The girl he sat beside when you came up to him parted ways once she realized things were complicated and that JJ hadn’t made an effort to engage in conversation with anyone else. He opted to head back to the Chateau to sleep it off in hopes of waking up to a different reality. But, when he awoke with the same clothes he wore last night and a few red solo cups on the floor, he knew he had to face the music. JJ wasn’t sure why he was so angry with you. He knew he was annoyed whenever you spoke about Trent, that was for sure, but he knew he didn’t let you explain what you wanted to say before he sent you away. He stared at the ceiling fan above, watching it pathetically spin on the lowest setting before forcing himself to sit upright, a groan forcing its way up his throat as he kicked the covers off his body. His legs dangled on the side of the bed,his head in between his hands, trying to comprehend the mild headache he felt; he wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or his confusing feelings. When he walked out, the first thing he noticed was how the sunny morning was a stark contrast to his despaired feelings and he couldn’t help but wish the sky was as grey as it was when there was about to be a big rain pour. The outside was quiet with the exception of a few birds chirping and a low hum of the grass near John B’s front porch. JJ poured himself a cup of water and ate a slice of whole wheat bread untoasted, not bothering to look in his fridge for something more fulfilling as he pondered whether to return home or to the spare bedroom. John B. was the first to arrive into the kitchen, interrupting JJ’s thoughts. “You’re up early,” he said, yawning. “But you also went to bed early, I guess.” “Wasn’t in the party mood,” JJ’s mumble was muffled by the bread. “You’re gonna choke if you keep eating with your mouth full.” “Oh yeah? Watch me.” John B. laughed at JJ’s joke and rubbed his eyes, making himself a cup of coffee using the machine and coffee beans Sarah gave him. JJ wanted to ask for a cup but felt like it was too much. “Want a cup?” John B. asked nonchalantly as he grabbed the bag from the pantry. “Yeah,” JJ coughed, grateful. “Thanks.” “No problem,” John B. replied, waving the blond off. “Sarah got me enough to last for two months. I think she’s trying to get me to refine my coffee palette.” “Your what?” “Her words, not mine.” A comfortable silence fell over the two boys before John B. spoke again. “What happened last night between you and Y/N?” JJ was quiet. He remembered feeling inexplicably angry last night but it didn’t transfer over to when he woke up. Still, JJ felt hurt and confused, feeling as though you chose Trent over him and wanted to talk about it when he felt most vulnerable because he had just admitted to liking you. He knew he wasn’t angry because he had no right to tell you how to feel, especially when he’d never told you how he felt. Either way, he knew he was hurting. “Y/N chose Trent over me,” JJ said, trying to act casual. John B. raised his eyebrow as he turned on the electric kettle. “Trent?” he asked. JJ nodded. “Are you sure?” “More sure than I’ve been in a while, JB.” John B. was confused because, from all of the things Sarah has told him, and all he had observed, all the signs pointed to you liking JJ. Once Sarah mentioned how the both of you had been acting strange around each other and more attentive when you two were near each other, it all made sense to him. John B. knew JJ wouldn’t be caught dead acting like a gentleman around the clock for anyone, but you were the exception. You were always the exception. That was why John B. couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of you deciding to date Trent over JJ. He knew you just as well as he knew his best friend. John B. knew you were the type of person to put yourself above feeling like you were less than a good human being and he knew that you were aware of who you were and what you deserved. He watched you grow up from a shy kid who would never ask the person who stole your crayons to give them back, to an independent woman who wouldn’t be afraid of barking at a police officer if they looked at Kiara or Pope the wrong way. John B. was starting to think he was becoming more perceptive, and for a moment, he was beginning to doubt that. But it was John B. who looked after you when you hit a low point a few months ago before you regained your willingness to step out of your bedroom, which is how he knew all of this about you. He knew you’d never choose someone who you didn’t connect with and he knew you were, most likely, trying to confess your feelings for JJ. “C’mon,” he reasoned. “She looked pretty happy to see you last night.” “She just wanted to talk to me about Trent,” JJ huffed. “It’s the same thing over and over again, JB. All we talk about is the job Rafe gave me a few weeks back, whatever we talk about with our friends, and Trent. She never even gave me a chance to tell her how I felt about her.” “It’s not too late,” John B. said. “But what if she and Trent are happy together? Who am I to ruin that by confessing?” “Did she tell you that she was with Trent officially?” “Well, no,” said JJ, “but she didn’t have to. I knew she went over to Trent’s hotel, to you know, and that’s why she came to me in the Boneyard.” “But that’s just a theory,” John B. said, pouring the coffee into two cups. He put two sugars and a little bit of cream into his while JJ drank it black. “You don’t really know.” “It’s too fucking early for mind games.” “You don’t know if that’s what she wanted to tell you because you never gave her the chance to say it.” “Again, JB, I don’t know what’s not clicking, but the timeline’s pretty obvious. We hung out, she left and told me she was going to Trent’s, and then she comes a few hours later to tell me she fucked him.” John B. winced at his attitude but tried to keep his composure. He sipped on his coffee and tried to think of something to say, but even he had to admit his mind wasn’t all there due to waking up less than thirty minutes ago. “I don’t know what to tell you,” John B. said as he watched JJ’s shoulders slump. “You should apologize to her, though. You were a bit of a dick last night.” “I will when I get over it,” JJ said. “But right now I don’t even think Y/N and I are friends anymore.” John B. set his cup down. “What?” “She hurt me,” JJ said. “All this time we hung out and then she’d run off to Trent. It sucks knowing the person you love loves somebody else.” “You don’t mean that, JJ. You two have been friends for so long that I don’t think either of you can remember a time when you guys weren’t in each other's lives.” “Everything has to come to an end eventually,” JJ said. “Y/N and I aren’t an exception.” “JJ,” John B. said, turning his body towards his friend. “I know that you’re hurting right now but don’t throw away years of friendship.” “What else can I do? The only other option would be to watch as she and Trent start dating and I’ll have to listen to her talk about what a ‘perfect’ boyfriend he is. It’ll be weird, JB.” “Do you still love her?” “Yeah,” JJ said without pausing. “That’s why I don’t want to be around her. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret and make it awkward for all of us.” JJ sipped on his coffee. “Look, I’m hurt by what she did but I don’t hate her. I’m trying to do the right thing here.” “Which is?” “Making sure things aren’t awkward between us. I don’t want her to think I like her so she can be with Trent, worry free.” John B. kept his mouth sealed, knowing that JJ’s wound was still fresh. He wanted to tell the blond that his plan was cowardly and convince him to talk to you, even if it felt uncomfortable, but John B. knew JJ wanted to talk it out. The boy knew his best friend overthought more than he liked to admit. “Okay,” John B. said. “You do what’s best for you.” The brown-haired boy knew he would have to speak to Pope about this and, hopefully, have Sarah explain your side of the story to him. “Thanks, JB,” said JJ, taking his cup into the spare room. John B. pulled his phone out and texted Sarah, hoping this was all just a big misunderstanding. A day passed without you seeing JJ. It was easy not to see as you refused to step out of your house and you felt extremely lucky your parents had to prepare for some big event at the Thorton’s, leaving you alone with the house for most of the day. Sarah and Kiara had stayed over the previous night but had to part ways per Kiara’s job and Sarah’s obligation to her father’s work, leaving you with your thoughts. You knew you were both at fault for not speaking up sooner and you chastised yourself for not thinking about JJ’s feelings during this proposition. To you, JJ was just a friend helping you learn how to be confident in the bedroom, and the unfortunate side effect was you falling in love with your best friend. Perhaps you were too selfish when you realized it for the first time, caving into the delicious feeling of JJ’s attention on you like there was no one else he would rather look at. On one hand, you knew it wasn’t your fault that JJ wouldn’t listen to what you had to say, but you blame yourself for putting him in that position. You were positive he didn’t like you back and it made you feel even more embarrassed, knowing you had talked JJ into not caring in the slightest about Trent or your love life. 

You knew you’d have to face him eventually, but you were putting it off as much as you could. You’d brave it for your friends and you’d try your best not to feel affected by the way JJ dismissed you like you two hadn’t been best friends since birth. But it would be hard and you knew that when your eyes landed on a photo of you and him, framed on the top of your dresser from last summer after you two had jumped off of a tall cliff. He had convinced you to face the height and offered to jump in with you and it was such a fulfilling moment that you wanted to commemorate that glorious day by framing a photo of you and JJ after emerging from the lake. 

That memory felt like it was created in another lifetime. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d miss the way JJ would encourage you to face your fears and break your habit of choosing not to pursue something if it seemed too difficult. He, physically and metaphorically, held your hand through thick and thin, and never once made you feel like your problems were insignificant. 

Of course, you both knew you were a Kook by birth and the stereotypes that came with that status. Neither you nor JJ were aware what titles meant until you both got older and started to care about what others thought of you, and there was a moment when you were worried about what the future of your friendship would look like. You knew how JJ was, brash and hot-headed, but JJ never treated you like he did with other Kooks. JJ always reminded you he knew who you were, deep down, and never wanted to ruin a friendship because of what other people had to say. 

You wished you could go back to simpler times when you didn’t worry about having feelings for your best friend and ruining the friendship in the process. You wished you never gave Trent your number and you wished that someone else had picked up Kiara the night he approached you. You wished that summer was going to end on a happy note before everybody left for college, just like you had planned months ago. But you were sitting in the middle of your bed, blinking rapidly to prevent tears from falling after having desperately tried not to cry for the past hour. 

For a moment, your mind wandered to how JJ was dealing with the aftermath of the night before. Was he torn apart like you were? Was he overthinking what he said and how he reacted like you were? Or was he nonchalant, barely thinking about you because he meant what he said? You couldn’t decide which of the three scenarios were worse and didn’t want to dwell on feeling sorry for yourself for too long. Part of you wanted to tell your mother everything that happened in the past few weeks and how this situation made you confront your feelings for JJ, like she had always hinted at, but you knew she’d react terribly if she knew the whole truth. 

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard in the group chat message you had with Kiara and Sarah, but you tossed your phone to the side after coming to the conclusion that you were being bothersome by reaching out to them after they had comforted you all morning. You already lost one friend and you didn’t want to risk losing two more. 

You had considered asking Pope to talk to JJ for you, after talking yourself out of calling JJ, to have him explain your side of the story. But the thought was ludicrous; Pope was close with JJ and you thought he’d most likely believe his story over yours. Your mind wandered to the idea of JJ telling Pope everything he told you last night and you anticipated feeling embarrassed upon realizing Pope would side with him. He was a close friend, sure, but you knew he and JJ were closer. You weren’t sure if he would play the middleman this time and bridge the gap between you and JJ, so you disregarded asking Pope for a favor. 

John B. was your last resort and you were putting asking him for help on hold. He was equally close with you and JJ, and John B. expressed numerous times how he viewed you as his younger sister during the many years you two had been friends despite being a few months younger than him. He had always been of sound mind when you felt like you couldn’t think properly, acting as your guide to bring the best out of you. John B. was always gentle, knowing that you always wanted to please everyone while navigating your way through your own life, especially when it came to learning how to put people in their place when it was needed. 

But again, you came to the conclusion that he’d most likely side with JJ. The boy loved him like a brother and they were the two “founding” members of the friend group. John B. and JJ, two peas in a pod. You knew that they were inseparable and they always managed to fix each argument within the hour. It hurt to know that John B. would likely believe JJ without hearing your story, but in that moment, you decided the best idea was to keep your thoughts to yourself and wait until you felt less emotional to act. 

“Life is so fucking unfair,” you complained, staring at the framed photo across your bed before walking towards it, facing the photo down. You were, metaphorically, trying to get over the embarrassment of your failed attempt at confessing your feelings to JJ, and you were trying not to think about how either of you would react when you both saw each other for the first time since you left him at the Boneyard. 

You genuinely didn’t know if you’d be friends with the Pogues after that day. The group would never be the same and you anticipated the both you and JJ acting awkward around each other if you continued to hang out together. While you were willing to put your pride and feelings aside to keep the group together, you knew that JJ would pretend you weren’t there and try his best not to interact with you. You didn’t know how you’d react if he brought a girl with him or what you’d do if JJ talked about liking another girl. 

The whirlpool of thoughts made your head dizzy and you opted to lay on your pillow, choosing to fall fast asleep to avoid overthinking.  

JJ counted the days that he hadn’t seen you. It had been four days since the Boneyard incident and he had successfully avoided you and the embarrassment that came with realizing he was utterly in love with you while you showed romantic feelings for someone else. JJ knew he was being irrationally idiotic when he decided the best way to deal with his feelings was to avoid you because he knew he’d have to talk to you at some point. He didn’t know what the friendship between the six of you would look like and he wasn’t too eager to find out. 

His mind was preoccupied with finding ways to avoid you -- and talking about you -- that he hadn’t spent any time thinking about how he’s act, and how you’d act, when you two saw each other for the first time. JJ figured you’d try to avoid him and make small talk when necessary, and if he was being honest with himself, he might’ve done the same. When he woke up earlier that morning, it seemed as if JJ couldn’t forget the friendship that was lost between the both of you. Instead, his mind kept replaying the moment he looked away from you and the conversation he had with John B. JJ was sure Kiara and Sarah had comforted you, and that you confided in both girls, causing the blond to become fearful that he might’ve lost three friends in the process. 

Everything about you captivated him and JJ cursed this because the both of you weren’t on speaking terms. He did his best to preoccupy himself with working at the garage shop, hanging out with John B. and Pope, or sitting by himself in a clearing where nobody would bother him, but it was no use. Neither being alone nor being around other people prevented JJ from thinking about you and it hurt him to know you might not be thinking about him the way he thought about you. 

Pope had put two and two together after Sarah explained what happened between you and Trent. She had found Pope walking by The Wreck the day after she looked after you and told him everything you told her, including how Trent was someone you thought you liked until you realized you were projecting your feelings for JJ onto him because you were scared about ruining a friendship. The boy sat with his mouth wide open and Sarah desperately asked him to talk to JJ, knowing that neither one of you would be the first to say ‘I’m sorry.’ “I’m just going to say it even if it’s the last thing you want to hear,” Pope said angrily, his voice raised. “Then why say it at all?” JJ barked back. “Because you’re my best friend and Y/N is the little sister I never had,” Pope replied with his nose flaring. He could feel his throat growing sore but paid no mind. JJ stood and leaned back, waiting for Pope to speak. “When things seem to be working out for you, you pull away. You hate it when it seems like your life’s going the way you want it to because you think something bad’s gonna happen. You reject people before they have the chance to do it to you because you’re afraid of feeling like something is being taken away from you. “And, man, I get it. You don’t have a perfect life and you’re used to things going south. You’re used to giving that you can’t enjoy a good thing while it’s happening. Your first instinct is to cut people off and shut them out before you even consider listening to what they have to say and working things out.” JJ looked at the wooden floor and noticed the few splinters sticking up. He made mental notes of where to avoid stepping until John B. got them fixed or filed them down.

“On the night of the last kegger, Y/N broke things off with Trent before seeing you,” Pope explained. “She told him nothing about their relationship felt right because she likes you, JJ. Y/N was at The Boneyard to tell her how she felt about you.” 

JJ’s eyes widened with surprise and he, for once, felt like he wasn’t able to refute what his best friend was saying. Of all the things he imagined in his head, you confessing you liked him more than a friend was not remotely on his list. “Y/N is good for you,” Pope said. “She’s been your best friend since you could walk. She knows how you operate, what you like and don’t like, and how to help you when you’re going through it with your dad. She deals with all of your shit because she loves you, JJ. If you love her like you say you do, you need to accept that she’s going to see things you don’t want her to see.” “Pope,” JJ said, his voice cracking. His body didn’t move and he felt paralyzed in his spot. Pope didn’t hesitate to react and pulled JJ into a hug, patting him on the back for assurance. “You know you’re good for her too. You wouldn’t have agreed to whatever it was that was going on between you two if you didn’t think you were good enough for her. JJ, I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who thinks you’re not good enough for her. You’re not a screw up either. We all have things we’re dealing with on our own even if we don’t show other people. You don’t want to waste your friendship with her over something as stupid as a misunderstanding, right?” “No,” JJ said, wiping his eyes. “No, I don’t.” “Then get your ass out of here and tell Y/N you love her,” Pope said, pointing at the door. “Apologize to her and listen to what she has to say.” “What if I feel like I’m starting to shut her out again?” “Breath and tell yourself you deserve good things to happen. There’s always gonna be something that doesn’t go your way but it doesn’t mean your life has to end there.” “Thanks, Pope,” JJ said. He walked towards the door and Pope followed, watching as his friend walked outside and took John B’s bicycle to your house. Pope couldn’t help but smile because he knew JJ was willing to be vulnerable if that meant mending two broken hearts. When your doorbell rang, you ignored it, thinking it was overnight mail. You paid no mind to the sound and continued to scroll on Instagram on your phone but you were pulled out of your concentration when you heard the doorbell ring for a third, fourth, and fifth time. Angrily, you lifted the covers of your comforter off of your body and marched downstairs with your hand gripping your phone tightly, ready to raise your voice at whoever was bothering you while you tried to forget about a boy who forgot about you. 

But when you opened the door, JJ stood with John B’s bicycle, his chest rising and falling. 

“Hey,” he said casually, his eyes darting anywhere but you. 

“Hi,” you replied, a frown apparent on your lips as your eyebrows creased. 

“I, uh, biked all the way here from The Cut,” he said awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Am I supposed to congratulate you, or something?” you asked sarcastically after a brief pause, crossing your arms over your chest while you waited for JJ to answer you.

“No, you’re not,” he retorted. “I’m trying to apologize but I didn’t think about how I’d start this conversation.” 

When JJ realized you weren’t saying anything and opted to listen, he spoke again. 

“Pope told me why you were at The Boneyard,” he began. 

“What did he tell you exactly?” 

“He told me you broke things off with Trent and came to the party to tell me you liked me,” JJ finished. He looked at you. “And I assumed the worst before you could say anything.” 

“You never let me explain myself,” you said, straightening your posture. “You told me you didn’t want anything to do with me and that you’d stop worrying about what I did if I did the same for you.”

“I was hurt,” he explained. “There’s no good excuse for me to say that and I know it. But what I said was because I was hurt by you talking about Trent when I wanted to tell you I was in love with you.” 

JJ’s confession made your eyes widen. 

“What?” 

“I’m not saying that just because Pope told me you liked me either,” JJ said confidently. “You know I’m not good at this ‘talking about your feelings’ shit, but you know I tell you everything. I waited too damn long to tell you how I feel and it caused us to nearly lose our friendship.

“And I’m sorry for saying those things because it’s not right to make your best friend feel like they’re replaceable. I’m sorry for not letting you tell your side of the story because it’s unfair to let my voice be heard and not yours. I’m sorry for waiting this long to tell you how I feel about you, but I’m not sorry for loving you in the first place.” 

The both of you looked at one another and JJ was scared for your reaction. 

“That’s one hell of an apology,” you said after a moment of silence. JJ laughed. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think that one out. I probably could’ve done better.” 

You shook your head. “It means more to me that you didn’t plan it out because it lets me know that’s how you really feel.”

“I love you,” he said. “It’s not some casual thing I’m saying, Y/N. I can’t remember a time when you weren’t the most important person in my life and I can’t help but love you.” 

“I love you too, idiot,” you said. JJ smiled at the nickname. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position when I was with Trent. You didn’t deserve to watch me go after some guy when you liked me more than a friend.” 

“Thanks,” said JJ. He chuckled. “Things would’ve been easier if I had let you talk at The Boneyard, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you replied with a delicate smile. 

“Would it be weird if I asked you if I could kiss you?” 

“Only if you didn’t kiss me.” 

JJ leaned forward, not caring that he was tossing John B’s bike into your bushes. He hastily put both of his hands on either side of your jaw, letting his lips press onto yours with the euphoric feeling of kissing his best friend after having confessed. 

“Do you want to come in?” you asked him, stepping inside of your house as you pulled his hands away from your jaw so that you could hold them. You bit your lip and JJ’s eyes widened, understanding your subtle hint. 

“What about your parents?”

“They’ll be gone all weekend for an event,” you explained, pulling him inside. JJ closed the door behind him and you locked it without breaking eye contact, walking forward until you felt JJ’s back pressed against the doorframe. 

“It’s convenient that they’ve been out of town for the past month,” he said, looking down at you. 

“I say we take advantage of the house,” you said. JJ raised his eyebrow. 

“Do you?” 

“It’s my house, Maybank,” you said as you licked your lips, pulling him up the stairwell. “If I want you to take me to my bedroom, you’ll take me to my bedroom.” 

“Fuck,” he cursed as he watched you lead him to the familiar door he’d seen many times before. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked you once you both were inside your room, your hands tracing along the sides of his torso. You pushed up the fabric of his t-shirt as they went and he could feel the coldness of your fingertips grazing along his skin. You nodded, your bottom lip finding refuge between your teeth. 

“We’ve already slept together, J,” you said. He raised his arms up over his head to allow you to pull the shirt fully over his head and toss it onto the floor beside your bed. Once it was off, he hand found your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. 

“This is different and you know it,” he sighed. Your eyes flickered down to his slightly parted lips. 

“Is it now?” you asked, your shaky breathing betraying whatever confidence you’d previously displayed. It only took him a second to capture your mouth on his own. You could feel the yearning through his skin with his grip on your jaw apparent. 

His fingers danced down your body until they rested just underneath your shorts, toying with the hem of your cut-offs as his tongue made its way down your throat. Everything about him just felt so much better than before, like he wasn’t holding anything back; and it was incredible. JJ knew he didn’t have to hide his feelings for you anymore and he knew he didn’t have to metaphorically show his love and appreciation for you as his best friend and lover. JJ could show you how he felt about you and he wasn’t about to waste any time. 

“Take these off,” he grumbled against your lips as he snapped the waistband of your shorts. You nodded, distancing yourself from him with a pout so that you could shimmy the shorts down your legs, missing the feelings of his hands around your jaw. 

“Your turn,” you said, motioning towards the cargo shorts on his legs. 

“You’re hot when you’re bossy,” he said, tossing his shorts in the same general direction of his shirt before reconnecting your lips. The two of you somehow managed to maneuver yourselves to the foot of your bed, your knees buckling as he sat you down on the down filled comforter. Your hand found his clothed length as he stared down at you. 

“I want you,” you said. 

“That’s good, because I’m desperate for you,” he said. You could feel him hardening under your touch. “You’ve got too many clothes on, don’t you think?”

You hummed in response before slipping your tube top over your head gingerly, watching as JJ’s eyes never left your body. It hadn’t really crossed his mind that you hadn’t been wearing a bra under it until he saw your breasts in full, your nipples standing at attention from the feeling of the cool air hitting them. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned before pulling on of them between his teeth. The other was quickly taken care of by his right hand, his index and thumb twisting and rolling the peak. A whine slipped out of you before you could stop it and JJ felt his cock twitch at the sound. He pulled back from you with a pop as he leaned you back against the duvet, your legs still dangling over the side as he looked down at you. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked again. 

“I trust you, JJ,” you groaned. “Now, please do something.”  

“I’m gonna do so much more than fuck you,” he said before removing his blue boxer briefs, his cock slapping against his torso. You lipcked your lips at the sight and gripped the bedsheets. “I’m gonna make you feel so good you’re gonna beg for another round.”

“Please,” you mumbled as his lips slanted against your throat. “I need you so bad.”

You felt him bite down on your pulse point, his canines nearly piercing the skin. He pulled back to admire the bruise before making his way down your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on your skin. The fabric of your panties grew damper, both from your own juices and his saliva as he kissed your clit through them. JJ’s hand slowly stroked his cock as he teased you and he moaned when he felt your hips push themselves forward underneath his tongue. Your hands found his tousled blond locks as the two of you made eye contact, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you from between your thighs. 

“JJ,” you whined. 

“Patience, baby. I’m just getting started,” he said. Still, he moved back from where he was so that he could pull the flimsy piece of clothing down your legs as his middle finger delved between your folds. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Only for you,” you said. 

“I have so much I want to do with you, baby, but I’m so hard right now. I don’t know if I can resist not being inside of you much longer,” he punctuated the sentence with a moan. 

Your hand wrapped itself around his cock, desperately trying to push him inside of you. He let you pull him close enough so that the head was just barely pressing into your entrance before slapping your hand away. 

“Do I need to say it again?” he asked, grabbing your hips and tugging you so that you were mere inches away from falling off the edge of the bed.  

“Patience is a virtue,” you said. “One I don’t have.”

He paused for a moment. “Do you remember that time you called me and asked me to teach you how to touch yourself?”

“Yeah, what does that have-”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes, I do,” you sighed, bucking your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you. 

“You think you can show me what you learned while I fuck you?” he asked. You nodded as your hand slipped between the two of you, ghosting over your clit. You would’ve done anything he asked in that moment if it meant he had his way with you. 

The head of his cock dipped into you fully at that point, the rest of his length following shortly after until he was bottomed out. He stalled with a groan. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said before starting up a steady rhythm with his hips. It seemed that every snap of his hips sent your mind spiraling deeper into the haze that was JJ Maybank. 

“J, I’m not gonna last much longer,” you whimpered, clenching around him. From the way you felt his cock twitching, you knew he wasn’t going to either. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, J,” you moaned as you felt your orgasm wash over you, the pleasure rolling over you in waves. His hips stuttered for a moment, his cum coating your walls in thick, hot ropes. The euphoric mixture of being able to finish inside of you while simultaneously allowing himself to show you how much he loved you washed over him like a newfound grace. 

“Fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” you said with a small laugh. He leaned back to pull out of you, his gaze dropping as he watched a mix of both of your cum drip out of you. 

“I’m gonna get hard again, holy shit,” he said as he pushed it back up into you with his fingers. 

“We’ve got all night,” you said. 

JJ smiled. 

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

***

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[bleufrost]

There's Just Time (A Loki x reader Fanfic)

Chapter Three: A Home Amidst Chaos

Summary: You were an explosion waiting to happen who found love in the arms of a hurricane. Loki saw you as an angel that calmed his demons. For you, he was a savior that taught you to trust your abilities, yourself, and others. When he died, you were broken. You clung to any hope possible and watched as it all fell away. With nothing left, stories from your youth flooded back of a mysterious force that controlled time and space, and you knew that you would do anything to see him again...even if that something meant teaming up with the Time Variance Authority to capture the man you love.

Loki's begins to feel things for you that he can't deny. Time can't change everything, and not all secrets can stay hidden.

Words: 8,006

Warnings: grief, mentions of self harm, violence, death

main story: prologue | chapter one | chapter two

moments in time (avengers era, prelude): part one

If the world was ending

You'd come over, right?

The sky'd be falling while I hold you tight

No, there wouldn't be a reason why

We would even have to say goodbye

“Alright, I’m finished!” Loki clicks a few more times on the outdated computer, sending something off to be graded. He sits back in his seat with his feet on your desk, sending a smile your way that is quickly diminished by the far-off look in your eyes.

“You know, if you’re anywhere near as bored as I am, we could go off and have ourselves a bit of fun elsewhere?” His eyebrows raise suggestively and you actually take him seriously for a second. Just a second.

“As lovely as that sounds, I think I’m going to pass. Besides, the faster you get through with the lessons, the faster we can actually go out and do something.” Your hand comes up and swats at his feet, but he moves them just before you make contact. He’s smiling again. The small chase is something he clearly needs in this dreary prison.

“Did they make you go through all this training as well?” Loki’s eyes follow a few people as they walk around the room. While he could be searching for an escape, you actually think that it’s more out of curiosity than anything else.

Your shoulders shrug. “Mine wasn’t quite as extensive. I think the difference in apparent moral compasses might’ve screwed you over in this case.”

Loki feigns hurt, hand clutching his heart dramatically. “Well, little one, it’s a good thing they left you in charge then, isn’t it?”

Loki props his feet back up beside you and leans back. “Do you mind if I take a break?”

You relax, mirroring his position with a sleepy smile. “Not at all. I would’ve already taken twelve if I were you.” Loki motions to the stack of magazines behind you and you offer one up to him. His hands flip it open to a random page, eyes scanning in bored interest. You miss the sound of his voice instantly.

“Hey, do you mind reading that out loud? It looks interesting.” Loki flips the page over so that you can see it. His eyebrows raise in confusion.

“You’re interested in motorized water vehicles?” You look at the bright blue page and struggle for a second to hide your distaste. No, you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, of course. They're...fascinating.” He looks totally unconvinced, but lets a small laugh fall from his lips. If nothing else, it was amusing to him.

“Well, alright.”

Loki’s lips move swiftly over the page, his voice low and soft as he reads the advertisements in the magazine. He finds the whole thing rather plain, yet he doesn’t stop. Every once in a while, his eyes glance up from the pages to see you. You, with your wide eyes and adorable little smile. Everything about you felt small, not necessarily because of your stature or status as a human being, but because you came off as so open and trusting with him. Your eyes droop as he continues to read, and he finds himself making a conscious effort to quiet his voice. Read softer, slower, so that you can rest. He wasn’t oblivious to whatever you had with him in your timeline, he just wasn’t quite sure what it was. Regardless, some part of him thought he might understand.

Just as your eyes fall shut, a loud timer rings throughout the cubicle. Miss Minutes pops to life on the desk, waking you suddenly. Loki curses the glowing clock in his mind, but shuts the magazine swiftly.

“Okay, y’all. Let’s review what we’ve learned!” Realizing that this wasn’t necessary for you to participate in, you allow your eyes to fall shut again. The harsh glow shines brightly behind your eyelids and you can’t help the frustrated little cry that leaves your mouth when her shrill voice scolds Loki for not taking things seriously. When your eyes open again, Loki is staring straight at you with an odd mix between amusement and determination. One might even call it...mischievous.

“How about I silence this alarm clock for you?” You sit up as his feet quickly fall flat on the floor. Loki rises, rolling up the magazine and swatting at Miss Minutes with an amused grin on his face. She dodges a few blows and your own smile crinkles your eyes when she scolds him a second time. Loki grabs another magazine off the desk and tosses it at you.

“Help me catch her!” You fumble to grab the magazine, rolling it up tightly once you get a solid grip on it. Laughter quickly escapes your mouth as you and Loki lunge for an increasingly annoyed Miss Minutes. Just as you think you’ve got her, the clock launches herself into the computer. Your paper weapon lands a blow with a solid THUNK...right on Loki’s arm.

You look up at him, stifling a giggle as he stares at his arm in shock. “I am so, so sorry, Loki.” The words barely make it out in between laughs. When his eyes land on your smiling face, they narrow dangerously.

“Oh, you clearly aren’t...but you will be.” Loki reaches for you and you shriek when his arms find your waist. He swings you around and you find it difficult to breathe once he finds out you’re ticklish. Loki’s eyes crinkle with joy, loud laughter leaving his own lips for the first time in what could very well have been years. It felt good to have the walls down. To not fear an ulterior motive or wonder if an attack would come at any moment.

Loki felt safe with you and, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t blame it on any charade composed by magic. Not here.

“I see the lessons are going well.” Mobius stops by the side of the cubicle, watching the two of you as you quickly compose yourself. Loki’s arms move from your waist, but hover just below your lower back. He straightens up slightly, mimicking you with the intrusion.

Mobius lifts his hands in a surrendering motion, trying not to seem like a threat to either of you. You didn’t exactly see him as one, his arrival was just unexpected.

“Gear up, kids. We’ve had another attack.” Mobius throws Loki a jacket and he pulls it on as the three of you walk. Stopping to admire it, he turns to you and models the new look. The colors are drab and the orange block letters feel intrusive, but he looks good. He always does.

“It suits you.” His nose scrunches up in distaste.

“Well, it’s repulsive so I would hope not. However, I do appreciate the compliment.” Once again, you find yourself laughing as you follow Mobius into the briefing room.

The meeting is incredibly boring. Much of the same information they originally gave is being repeated, and whether that’s for Loki’s sake or theirs, you’re unsure. You tune in and out, taking in any new information or straying conversation from the usual briefings. It takes everything you have to hold your tongue when Hunter B-15 makes a comment about Loki being a variant, but he holds his own without any interference. Your mind is still on autopilot when Mobius starts listing off Loki’s powers, and when he says the term ‘illusion projecting,’ you interrupt out of pure habit.

“Duplication casting.” Your eyes raise suddenly when Loki corrects Mobius at the same time as you. He grins at you, excited by the knowledge you apparently have on his magic. He then falls into a speech that explains the intricacies and differences in his abilities. A speech you could likely recite from memory, but adore hearing nonetheless.

Loki finishes his explanation with a sarcastic, “But, you already knew that.” The words are smug, the self-satisfaction only heightened by the smirk he offers the room. That changes when he looks your way. Instead of the self-righteous smile, he instead gives you a look that is far more sincere, as if he wants his words to you to be the same, but genuine.

While walking over to where your crew would depart, Loki suddenly asks another question that you’re surprised hadn’t come up sooner.

“Will I be getting my powers back once we’re out there?” He turns to Mobius excitedly.

“Well, yes.” Loki grins at you, the mischievous look becoming more and more normal for him now that he feels a bit more secure.

“Aren’t you worried about me betraying you?” His face falls when Mobius shakes his head. The resounding “no” taking a hit to his confidence for sure.

“You already know we can catch you, how is betraying us going to get you any closer to the Time Keepers?” The spark instantly returns to Loki’s eye. He turns to you, allowing Mobius to walk on ahead of the two of you with a satisfied smile. He knew Loki wouldn’t step out of line, not with the promise of a meeting on the table.

“Are you working toward an audience with the Time Keepers as well?” That thought had never really occurred to you. Quite honestly, the only real thing keeping you here was Loki. It did bring up alarming questions though, things that you hadn’t felt the need to consider until now.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really put too much thought into that part of my plan yet.” His face goes from confused to stern, trying to work through what you just said and how you could have possibly not had an end game here. What he didn’t know just yet, was that he was your end game. You suppose getting him that meeting was likely your goal now too.

“That’s a bit alarming, though I’m sure you have your reasons.”

The renaissance fair that you find yourselves entering is dismally dreary. The skies are grey and the air cold as ice. Loki starts in again, firing questions at Mobius that garner relatively mundane responses. It was all new to him, you understood that.

The brightly colored flags stood stark against the dark clouds and you soon found your mind drifting to other things. Other circumstances and memories.

Tony had once forced your entire team to go to a carnival, insisting that it was a great opportunity for ‘team building.’ Loki was completely over the comical magicians and juvenile illusions. He honestly was ready to leave the moment you arrived.

It wasn’t until he saw your eyes light up with the twinkling lights of the roller coasters that he decided the carnival might not be so bad. The way you couldn’t keep your joy from bubbling over at the oversized stuffed animals and sickly-sweet treats was so beautiful to him. He spent the rest of the evening following you from place to place, laughing as you jumped up and down in excitement over the same things that most adults here overlooked. You acted as a child would. It had embarrassed you when he mentioned that later, but his assurance that it was not a bad thing made your heart feel so full of love for him. Loki understood that you had lost much of your childhood. He understood that you were denied moments of wonder and were instead forced into endless seas of pain. He understood, and he adored you all the more for your ability to allow yourself to feel that happiness now.

“If this place excites you, I fear you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself on Asgard.” Loki leans close to you as he says it. A gentle smile causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners. You smile too, though you look down as your cheeks redden. You were caught.

“If that’s an invitation, I gladly accept.” You look at him, the burning in your cheeks diminishing as you gain the confidence to fall into a familiar banter with Loki. Now it’s his turn to be caught off guard.

Loki’s mouth opens and shuts a few times, and he ultimately opts to just shake his head with a small chuckle. “Perhaps it is.”

Your smile drops once the tent flaps open. If you thought outside was dark, this place is a black hole. Small torches light up the corners of the room, but the light that they offer is hardly enough to see. Bodies litter the ground and you nearly yelp when you accidentally bump into one on the floor.

Loki reaches out to steady you, guiding you over to a clearing at the center of the tent. He does it so absentmindedly, so naturally that it feels as though he’s done it a thousand times before. In your memories, he has.

The rest of the crew fan out, examining bodies and searching for any clues as to the whereabouts of this other variant. You turn to move, hesitantly trying to find your footing in the darkness, but his hand reaches out instantly to stop you. When Loki begins to talk, they all halt.

“If you leave this tent, you’ll end up like them.” It’s bullshit and you know it. Loki has this way of looking a little too thoughtful when he’s making things up on the spot. It had taken you years to get the hang of it, but you could often read him like a lie detector now. Not all the time, but the times where he was desperately trying to conjure up an entire scenario with no moments notice...those you could call.

He keeps talking, ignoring Hunter B-15 as she urgently announces how little time you all have left. Mobius watches him for any sign of deceit, but finds none. He has them fooled. That is, until Mobius catches your eye. You don’t know what Loki is planning, but you know it can’t go on much longer without causing serious damage. Mobius sees this, and he leaps in where you won’t.

“He’s lying, just playing games. There’s no one out there.” Mobius points at Loki with disapproval. “I expected more from you.” He looks at you then with even more disappointment. “Both of you.”

Back on desk duty, you sort through a few stacks of paper trying to get things back in order after yet another person decided to look through Loki’s files without so much as even attempting to put them back where they belonged. It seems he’s a hot topic here, though you should have guessed considering this is one of the most exciting things to happen at the TVA since you’d arrived.

There was so much information in these files, and you often felt like you were intruding by reading them. Of course, you were here because you knew more about Loki than any words in a file could tell a person, but it still felt a little wrong. You would be lying if you said you’d read every part of them. There were things too intimate in here. Things that should be left to his discretion to share...even if they were about you.

“Let me park ya at this desk with our previous Loki expert. Here’s a good trick, pretend like your life depends on this.” Mobius heads off to the cafeteria, leaving Loki standing before you.

“I suspected I might find you here. Seems like we’re being punished.” He looks around the stacks of files and books with disdain. This is likely the most dreary part of the entire TVA.

You pull his files off of one of the chairs and motion to it, rising to send the files back to their shelf.

“Oh, we’re definitely being punished.”

After about an hour, Loki is completely bored again. You don’t blame him. He’s read through the same paperwork on each of the attacks multiple times already. It was busy work.

You look over the paper you were reading when he animatedly gasps. “Don’t tell me the variant ambushed and killed another team of Minutemen!” Your hand comes up to stifle a laugh and Loki’s eyes land on you for a second before he goes back to reading, this time purposefully putting on a show for you.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to start laughing. You know this isn’t going to get you anywhere, might as well have some fun with it. And it is fun.

Unfortunately, not everyone thinks so. The librarian behind you shushes the two of you loudly, causing you to bite your lip in an attempt to quiet your laughter. Loki looks at you, brows scrunching down as though he can’t believe what she just did. He offers you one more glance, then turns around and shushes the lady back. You don’t even try to stop your amusement and Loki turns back to you with a wide grin. After a few more minutes, you have to get up to use the bathroom. When you return, your heart nearly drops.

On the desk lies scattered papers belonging to Loki’s personal files. Pictures and detailed descriptions of major life events sit out in the open, and you can’t tell if he was just haphazardly looking through them, or if the files spread out were ones he had already read. Your eyes land on multiple folders pertaining to the two of you, his time spent in a cell, the months you sat by his side in attempts to understand him and help him acknowledge his own good. You see The Avengers Tower, knowing that you spent years there fighting alongside him, reading alongside him, sleeping alongside him. It was jarring to be hit with it all over again. When you try to speak, your breath hitches in your throat. Loki looks up instantly, shoving the folder he was reading beneath another and grabbing for one randomly.

“Loki…” Your eyes begin to water, this wasn’t the way you wanted things to go. He shouldn’t have looked. Had he seen everything?

He quickly stands, reaching for you. His hands rest against your arms and he leans down to meet your eye.

“Please don’t be upset. I didn’t read anything that would be improper. I just wanted to understand.” You refuse to look at him, knowing that the tears would fall the moment you looked into his blue eyes.

“Understand what?” Loki holds you a little tighter. You could feel his hands tremble.

“Why someone as delicate as you would care for a beast like me. I could absolutely destroy you without batting an eye. It would be easy...yet you trusted me not to. You still do, even now.” There’s a strain in his voice when he speaks. The sharp blade of his words paining you deep within your chest. He couldn’t possibly believe he was capable of anything so cruel. Not after everything he knew about what would have awaited him in the correct timeline.

“It’s because you’re not a monster. We both know you couldn’t kill me ‘without batting an eye’ because it would hurt too much. Did reading those files help you understand that at all?” When you finally look at him, his eyes are pleading. He lets out a deep breath of air that he had apparently been holding.

“I feel as though I’d have to see it played out myself. And I know that isn’t something you’re comfortable with. I accept that. I’m okay with that.” Each sentence is punctuated with a soft squeeze of his hands. He’s wrong though.

“No, Loki. Seeing it wouldn’t make a difference. Everything in those files are things that you need to live. Watching it and experiencing it are two very different things.” His grip loosens ever so slightly as his shoulders fall.

“But I’ll never get to experience it, will I?” Now it’s his turn to look down, glassy eyes barely hidden. It makes your own tears spring forward again.

“Not the same way it happened before.” He nods his head once, accepting the solemn truth. It would never play out quite the same as before. It couldn’t. When his hands release you, your own instantly come up to rub the tears from your eyes.

You take your seat again, pushing his files aside to grab for another on the variant attack. Loki follows close behind, taking his own seat. You work in silence, feeling his eyes on you as you focus on ignoring his still-open files.

“I meant what I said by the way.” Your hands stop, hovering over another one of his folders that you were prepared to push away.

“What?” When you look up, he’s watching your hand. You drop it and his gaze falls to the desk in front of him, contemplating his words before he says them.

“I didn’t read anything that you wouldn’t have otherwise told me about. It was tempting, and I will admit that I saw the names on a few of the folders, but I find myself respecting you far too much to do anything like that. I suspect I know why.” As he says the last sentence, he meets your gaze once more. There is so much vulnerability in the air, you feel as though you might suffocate.

After a moment, you nod at him. Even if he had read every single file, he hadn’t done anything wrong. They were his files, his life, his choice. The way he said it though, reminded you that you could tell when he was lying. He wasn’t.

It takes another hour, one shrouded in silence, until Loki sparks up again. He lets out a little excited gasp, and when you look up at him you swear you can see tears in his eyes. You have no time to question him though, as he grabs your hand and runs with you to the cafeteria to find Mobius.

With a lot of effort and time spent convincing Mobius, some of that time used watching Loki goof off and completely season Mobius’ salad to death, your little team is off to Pompeii. Loki had come up with this theory that the variant was hiding in apocalyptic events, able to do whatever they pleased because the whole place would be wiped out. Nothing they did mattered there, so they could scheme without any interference from the TVA. That was the theory.

The village was beautiful, peaceful in a way that you weren’t accustomed to. As Loki and Mobius spoke behind you, you once again found yourself lost in the sights. There was a silence that echoed in your mind every moment you spent without your powers. In most places, you could almost ignore it, convince yourself that the hollow space within you was nothing but a ghost. There was always so much energy in places like the TVA. You could pretend that energy was more than just the normal buzz.

Here though, things were different. You felt a sudden sense of grief run through you. These people would be filled with fear in a matter of seconds, and you would be powerless to do anything to help them. They would be in pain, and you could offer them nothing. It left you feeling empty and useless.

A whoosh of air whips past you, breaking you from your sadness. Loki jumps up onto the back of a goat carrier, unlatching it and cheering the goats on as they run from their enclosure. You stare in shock, looking back at Mobius who only shrugs at you and shakes his head.

When he begins speaking Latin, you can only make out a few words. He’s so animated, it’s almost comical.

The volcano explodes behind him and the crowd screams, running for cover. Loki continues to run around throwing things and laughing.

“Nothing matters! Enjoy your last meal, dance while you still can!” He comes to a halt in front of you, holding his hand out toward you.

“May I have this dance?” You shake your head in disbelief. This doesn’t deter him though.

“Loki, are you serious?” He holds his hand out a little further, dropping the ‘end of the world’ charade and smiling at you genuinely. He looks almost shy.

“It is the end of the world, after all.” You look around, most of the people have left. What was happening was a terrible tragedy, but Loki was right; there was nothing you could do. Sometimes there just wasn’t.

His hand is large, making you feel safe as he closes it around yours. Loki gently pulls you close to him, resting his hand on your waist and guiding you in circles. He spins you around, and for a moment this chaos actually feels like home.

There are occasions when not having a sense of time isn’t quite so bad. You could drift through life, doing what needs to be done without worry of running out of it. Things felt like they went by quickly. This wasn’t one of those occasions.

Mobius flips another page in his folder and sighs. He rubs his eyes and shuts it, handing it to you to be placed amongst the various others you had already read through. A sleepy yawn leaves your mouth. As much as you hate field work, at the very least it required less monotony than this.

You really can't help it when your eyes begin to drift shut. Just like that, everything goes quiet.

Mobius watches you and Loki with an amused eye roll and tiny smile. The two of you had fallen asleep at the desk. You were leaning against Loki, his arm draped over you and holding you protectively to his chest. His head rested on top of yours, relaxed in a way that Mobius had yet to witness from either of you.

For two people who never quite let their guard down, you sure were calm now. Mobius remembered the day he first met you, a scared and desperate kid who nearly broke down when he agreed to give you a chance. You always played up not trusting him, but Mobius knew he was the closest thing you had to a friend for a long time before Loki appeared. You had depended on him, and he found himself wanting to keep that faith in him alive. You were just a kid, you didn’t deserve to have to go through half of what you already had.

Loki was a slightly different story. While Mobius knew there was much more to the god than trickery and illusions, he wasn’t anywhere near as gentle as you. While you hunted by demand, Loki did so for sport. He knew why you were attracted to Loki, he had read your file. You were a healer above all else. You found purpose in providing peace amidst turmoil. Loki was the ultimate hurricane. That had to be it. There was obviously no other explanation for your unwavering drive to protect him.

Mobius didn’t know it, but that was a very small piece of a much larger puzzle. The complexities with which you and Loki loved was not something that could be deciphered through reading. It wasn’t trivial in the slightest. It was deeply and remarkably emotional.

No, Mobius only saw a scared little boy and a girl who wanted to banish the fear from his heart. Suddenly, it hit him. Scared little boy!

A slam on the desk causes you to jump, awakening you from your nap. There’s something solid beneath your head, much softer than the wooden desk you expected to feel. Opening your eyes, you find yourself resting against Loki’s chest. It feels so safe here, so calm. His arms hold you close to him and you notice when he struggles to open his eyes. It felt like you hadn’t slept in days, so you understood the sentiment completely.

When Loki finds you snug within his arms, his heart beats a little faster. He's sure you can hear it, your head is so close to his chest. You're so fragile to him, and having you here against his body stirs up something within him that screams at him to protect you. He barely has time to process everything before Mobius flips open a file in front of the two of you.

“Wakey, wakey, kids. I found something on that Kablooie we picked up at one of the scenes.”

Rising from Loki’s chest, you feel his hands fall from around you. You miss him immediately.

“What’s that?” Loki stretches, leaning over to see the bag that Mobius pulls out.

“Candy. Do you have candy on Asgard?” Mobius looks at Loki incredulously.

You shake your head, both in response to the question and to clear the sleepiness from your mind. “Nope. None that he’s ever eaten anyway.”

Loki pipes up defensively. “Well, we have grapes, nuts, things of that sort.” Mobius looks at you, shock on his face. You shrug. When you first found out that Loki had never had candy, you made it your mission to overload him on sweets. You always adored sweet things, and sharing that with him was one of your favorite pastimes. Maybe that could be something you did again.

“No wonder you’re so bitter.” Loki stares after him, taking offense to the comment. Mobius doesn’t even notice, opting instead to slam another stack of papers down. Time to continue your work. At least you had a lead now.

“Remember, this is a class ten apocalypse. The variant should be considered hostile, and it is important to keep an eye out for reset charges. The variant steals one every time there is an attack.” This briefing is one you actually find yourself paying close attention to. You’d been to a few apocalypse sights while working with the TVA, not to mention the trip to Pompeii just recently with Loki and Mobius. While this shouldn’t be anything too extreme, the fact that the Loki variant could be there made you worry. While you knew finding this variant could get you one step closer to finally being free with Loki, something held you back.

Arriving at the sight, the rain pummels you brutally. The blue glow of the Roxxcart sign reflects off of everything around you. Holographs flicker in the rain, and you would almost find it pretty if not for the chill of the water.

By the time you make it into the store, you’re shaking and dripping wet. Loki stops beside you, puddling water onto the floor. Your nose scrunches up, attempting to hold back a sneeze, but you can’t. Trying not to call any attention to your shivers, you just smile at Loki and shrug it off.

Loki looks you over quickly, taking in the wet clothes and blue tint to your lips. His hand comes up and a bright green glow washes over you, instantly drying your clothes and warming you up.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold.” Now, he smiles and the green light dries him as well. You nod in thanks, bumping his shoulder and walking over to the rest of the group with him.

“Alright, I’ll go with our little sorcerers-”

“No. You two head out with D-90. He stays with me.” Mobius fights the hunter on this, insisting to no avail that Loki should stay with you guys. Eventually, she forces him to back down but the same definitely won’t be said for you.

“I go where he goes.” The hunter sighs and turns to you, staring you down. Walking up to you in an attempt to appear intimidating, she stands nearly chest to chest with you. It wouldn’t be that easy though.

“We don’t need you here. If you don’t want to follow my command, you can leave.” You glare back at her. If she thinks that you were going to back down now after having gone against the most powerful force in the universe, she had another thing coming to her.

“We both know exactly what I’m capable of and why I’m here. Don’t fucking threaten me.” She rolls her eyes, but you’re not finished.

“Every emotion, every fear, every little thing that you’ve pushed down because it’s just way too much to deal with. I’ll make you feel it. You will never know what peace is again. We can work together, or I can be the worst nightmare you’ve ever experienced. The only difference will be that you can never wake up.” The hunter’s eyes widen for the slightest of seconds, but it’s long enough for you to see that you won. Pushing past her, you walk back over to Loki and start heading down the hall.

Loki stares at the hunters and Mobius, eyebrows raised and expression definitely showing that he felt the embarrassment for them. He points in your direction and follows after you, impressed and completely in awe. It was easy to forget how scary you could be. Everything about you felt calm and sympathetic. You were easy to underestimate, but maybe that was deliberate.

The lights flicker around you and your heart rate picks up. You were never a fan of dark, enclosed spaces. When Loki’s footsteps catch up to you, you’re relieved for multiple reasons.

“That was quite impressive. Albeit, a bit frightening. Remind me never to get on your bad side.” You try to keep the smile off of your face, but his grin makes you feel at ease. Rolling your eyes, you smile back at him.

“I really doubt you’re scared of me.” Loki walks a little faster, getting in front of you and walking backwards to face you.

“You’re right about that. I don’t often back down from dominant individuals. It does do something to me though.” He winks at you and you laugh, smacking his arm playfully. You might just be thankful for the darkness now, considering it’s hiding the bright blush on your cheeks. You would never get used to the way Loki’s flirting made your stomach flutter to life with butterflies.

Your eyes suddenly catch sight of a man standing by the plants. “Who is that?”

Loki turns instantly, standing between you and the man. Hunter B-15 walks up to question him, her weapon held out protectively. Looking at him from behind Loki, you recognize something in him. Something that doesn’t feel like it should be there. God, you wish you could use your powers right now. Nothing felt right, but without them you had nothing to back that up. Still, you would risk looking foolish if there was a chance that you were right.

“Something’s off about him.” Loki turns his head to acknowledge you.

“What?’ The hunter walks closer to him, telling him to head back to the main part of the store.

“Wait, something isn’t right!” B-15 turns to you, but the man grabs her and falls limp. You don’t miss the light green magic that flows between them. She turns and smiles at Loki.

“So, you’re the fool the TVA brought in to hunt me down.” She looks at you from behind Loki, smiling wider. “And of course you brought the pet.”

Although it takes you a second to recognize what just happened, Loki catches on instantly. He smirks at her.

“Me, I presume. It’s so nice to meet you.”

She motions for him to follow her as she makes her way through the aisles. Loki squeezes your arm. “Stay behind me.”

“I was so worried that they’d found a better version of me. But now, seeing how delusional you are working for the TVA...well, I’d say that fear is gone.” Her legs swing, mocking you with how nonchalant she appears.

“I don’t work for the TVA, I work for me.” The variant turns around to face the two of you fully. She smiles and clicks her tongue condescendingly. Her head tilts, catching your eye.

“It’s cute that you believe that. I’m an enchantress, Loki. I can tell when someone’s under a spell.” He follows her gaze, moving to hide you fully when he notices where she’s looking.

The variant lets out a breathy laugh and turns back around. A worker walks up to her, and before you can do anything to stop it, the magic shifts between them.

Loki doesn't miss a beat, talking before the worker is even fully enchanted.

“I have an offer for you, that’s why I found you. I'm going to overthrow the Time Keepers and, cards on the table, I could use a qualified lieutenant." You try not to let that get to you. He says it so easily, the words flowing without any hesitation. It couldn't be the truth, right? You could read him like a book, but right now you were struggling. It was just the nerves.

"And I assume you mean me and not your little pup." That one hurts. For so long it was common for people to see you as some lost child next to Loki. They treated you as though you were a victim, being corrupted and taken advantage of while blind to it all out of love. You weren't blind, and you weren't some useless toy.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost missed the look he gave you.

Loki's eyes lock on yours minutely. He tilts his head just slightly, but you know the look. He has a plan. Trust him.

"There’s only one person I can trust. So what say you, Loki?" He holds his arms out invitingly, gently pushing you further back in the process.

"Don't call me that. Enough with your games, I'm not interested in ruling the TVA."

Their eyes take on a shift, anger surging through them as they turn away. Loki follows after them.

"If you don't want to overthrow the TVA, what do you want?" Electricity hums around you, the lights flickering violently. When they go down, you can see the orange glow radiating from multiple spots around you. Loki looks around as well, he faces you with an urgency that sparks panic in you.

When he speaks, his voice is low and rushed. "Go find Mobius. If there's a fight here, you don't need to be a part of it."

Your head shakes and you reach for him. If there was going to be a fight here, you weren't going to leave him. You were never the best fighter, not without your powers. You could help though. You had to.

"I'm not leaving you alone with them." He wants to disagree with you. The conflict flashes in his eyes, but he has little time to argue. Loki nods his head toward the corner. If you want to stay, you don't need to be at the center of it.

Loki turns and steps toward the variant slowly. They changed again while the two of you spoke. This new body was large, clearly strong and far more intimidating than the previous.

Loki is undeterred and his arms stretch out, directing the attention to the glowing charges around the room.

"I see, that's your plan. Lure us all here so you can blow the place up."

Overhead, the lights flicker again. You see them charge forward and scream when they kick Loki forcefully across the room.

"Thank you for helping me stall for time, you really do love to talk." Loki rises just as the variant steps forward. You scan the room for anything that could be of use and find a cable hanging off of a shelf.

Your arms reach for it, swinging it overhead and wrapping it around the variant's neck. Your legs swing up and use his back as leverage to pull harder on the cable. Natasha had taught you a thing or two and you were now thankful for the hours spent getting kicked around by her on a mat.

Loki rushes to you, punching the variant in the face. You feel him stepping backwards and can't move fast enough to avoid smashing into the aisle behind you. The metal digs into your spine and you yelp in pain, letting the cable go. Your body falls to the floor and the variant grabs for your throat while you attempt to recover.

Just as his hand is about to close around your neck, Loki swipes his feet out from under him. The man's head slams against the floor, temporarily incapacitating him.

Loki locks his hand on yours to help you rise.

"Are you alright?" You nod your head rapidly, getting up to make yourself less of a target. "Are you?" Loki checks himself over. "It appears so."

The break is short-lived as Loki takes a hard hit to the side. The variant locks its sights on you. He kicks violently and you barely dodge it. Your arm swings back to strike the man in the face, giving Loki the chance to run back over to you.

Loki grabs you quickly, pushing you behind him as the enchanted man sends another kick your way. He blocks it, but just barely. Loki summons a vacuum cleaner to his hand, swinging it around to send the man flying back. He runs over to you, holding your arm and looking back occasionally to make sure the man is still down.

“If I can get you close enough while distracting him, do you think you could stop the enchantment or put him to sleep?” You shake your head, knowing that you can’t. His powers may be available to him out here, but yours still aren’t. As long as the TVA knows where you are, your powers are kept from you.

“I know you probably don’t use them much now, but I know what you can do! This Loki is incredibly resilient, I’m going to need your help if we aim to stop him.” You continue to shake your head adamantly.

“I can’t.” He grabs your hand, knowing that your magic often resonated from the centers of your palms.

“Yes, you can. I’ll take the fall for it, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Loki squeezes your hand in his, the urgency in his actions hitting you down to your core. You feel useless. Your fighting abilities were minimal at best. Loki could take this variant without you, but you were barely a distraction to him. The TVA had left you powerless and with very little means to protect yourself. You couldn’t do anything and it made your stomach twist now that it was directly affecting Loki too.

“Loki, I can’t!” A small spark stings the hand that Loki has wrapped in yours. Your eyes grow wide at the feeling, knowing that it couldn’t have possibly been you...right?

A low chuckle sounds from behind the two of you and Loki rises to hide you from the opposing figure. They're much smaller now, and their voice is softer.

“Leave the poor girl alone." The person steps closer, slowly shaking their head at Loki as though scolding a child.

"How is she supposed to use her magic when they have her chained up like a dog?"

Loki turns back to face you, a thousand questions floating through his mind. Only one matters at this moment though.

"They keep them from you, even out here?" His eyes fill with pain, knowing that he played a part in that somehow. Even if he hadn't outright forced you to do it, it was still his existence that led to it. You had abandoned a part of yourself for him.

You look down, suddenly feeling humiliated. The shame of what you were willing to lose felt so much heavier now that he knew. It wasn't just a temporary restraint like he had been given. At this point, you had been severed from your powers for what felt like years. It was shameful.

He struggles to find the right words to say, but nothing can make this better. He couldn't imagine the pain you were in. Remembering the person behind the two of you, Loki says what he needs to in order to keep the focus off of you. He knew you weren't useless without your powers, the fight you had just put up proved it. You didn't quite see that same strength in yourself though, so he wanted nothing more than to ensure you weren't the target of this variant's attacks.

"You clearly know she's no threat to you, so what do you want from me?" Loki turns away from you, stepping up to the variant.

"This isn't about you."

Everything in the store powers down. As the lights go out, reset charges glow and vanish in squares of glittery gold.

In front of you, the variant picks something up and waves at you and Loki with a satisfied grin. She disappears in the portal before you can even think to move.

The glow of the portal casts Loki in a golden light. He stands by it, watching as the variant runs through and disappears. You can see the hesitancy in his face. He's struggling.

“Loki-” Before you can even finish, he cuts you off with urgency.

“Come with me.” You make no move to approach him, fearing that he might do something rash if he feels trapped. You’re confused though. He couldn’t have just asked that, could he? He knew you had no powers now, so why wouldn’t he just go?

“What?” Loki quickly turns to face you, taking long strides to reach you in as little time as possible. His hands come up to squeeze your arms, trying desperately to garner all of your attention. He needed you to see how serious he was right now. How sure.

“Come with me. I know that there is much more to our story, and while I respect your wishes not to show me, I also don’t think I’m ready to live this life, my life, without exploring what still could be.” His eyes are so piercing, so pleading.

You’d given up everything once to see Loki again. Risked imminent death just for the small hope that he might still be out there somewhere. Hell, you had gone against the Time Lords themselves to reach the TVA so that you could find Loki...and he hadn’t even asked that of you then. Why now, when he’s nearly begging you to run away with him, would you say no? He knew your powers were being locked away from you, yet he still wanted you beside him.

What you didn't know was that the discovery of your powers was the final straw for Loki. His time with you may have been limited so far, but he was certain that the kindness and genuine care for him that you showed, even when you didn't think he'd find out, was not something that he could ignore. In his heart, he knew that he held so much emotion for you. Even now, the urge to have you by his side was far too strong to deny. The fact that his affection was clearly mutual made him ache for further discovery.

Behind you, hunters and TVA agents run closer. You can hear Mobius calling to you and Loki, but neither of you make any move. Loki is waiting for your decision. It suddenly dawns on you that he might not leave if you don’t make one, or if you decide to stay. He would sacrifice what was likely his only opportunity to escape if running meant leaving you behind. You already knew your answer, but that solidified it. You would happily go wherever Loki led you, because you knew that he would do the same.

“Let’s go.” His eyes twinkle with relief and pure happiness at your words. You chose him. You knew he was unaccustomed to that; to being someone's choice. He’d have to get used to it very fast now that you two were going to be on the run together.

Loki grabs your hand, stopping once more to look at Mobius apologetically. You would be lying if you said it didn't hurt a bit to betray him. You had to though.

With that, Loki pulls you through the portal with him. It seals shut behind the two of you in a glittery display of light.

a/n: can you guys guess which scenes made me happy in the show? there was so much smiley loki in this chapter, and while i cant stop myself from being slightly angsty, i hope you guys liked the fluffiness in this. please never be shy to tell me what you think, i love hearing from y'all and your interactions make my heart so happy. have a lovely weekend angels!

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[heliads]

What We Are

You’ve hated Draco Malfoy from the moment you met him at the Sorting Ceremony all those years ago. However, you have the strangest feeling that things are changing between the two of you- like just maybe, you like him more than you thought.

masterlist

You are eleven years old, small and swallowed up by the dark cloth of your school robes. You’re filling through the main aisle of the Great Hall, surrounded by a cluster of other anxious first years. Four long tables stretch down the room, two on each side of the hall and each filled with chattering students. Four banners hang at the end of the hall- ruby, emerald, gold, sapphire. One for each house. You’ve been briefed on the houses and their qualities by a newly formed friend, one Hermione Granger, but you’re still nervous. You don’t entirely know which one you belong to, although you have an inkling as to which one should be avoided.

Professor McGonagall begins listing off the names one at a time, and the subsequent first-years file up to her, place the worn Sorting Hat on their head, and receive their assigned House. After a while, your name is eventually called, and you make your way to the front. The Sorting Hat considers for a time, then a smile crawls across its weathered fabric features. “SLYTHERIN!” The word is shouted across the hall, and you feel a sinking pit yawn open in your stomach. Slytherin? That was the one house you were supposed to avoid.

You make brief eye contact with your new friend Hermione, who looks about as stricken as you feel, before settling into a place at the Slytherin table. The emerald-clad students around you clap you on the back, issuing congratulations, but you still feel uneasy. Wouldn’t it have been better to go to Ravenclaw, where all the smartest students belonged? Or brave Gryffindor, or dedicated Hufflepuff? Anywhere would be better than ambitious, cunning, snakelike Slytherin.

A boy seated one space down looks at you, taking in your glum expression. He has striking platinum blond hair, and appears to be a first year just like yourself. “Don’t look so upset. You got into the best house there is, you know. All of the students who go to Slytherin end up being the greatest lot here.” For some reason, the condescendingly arrogant tone of the boy gets to you, and you shoot back a haughty reply. “If all Slytherin students are like you, I don’t fancy staying here at all.” The boy’s expression changes into a glare, and he glowers at you for the rest of the dinner.

That boy would turn out to be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House’s most famous elitist. The two of you would hate each other ever since that night, and that feeling of utter loathing would continue for years. You’re now far older than you had been as a wee little first year, and so is Draco, but your attitude towards him hasn’t changed a bit. He’s just so conceited, so full of himself- and you’re no better, you know that, but at least you try to hide it.

However, you were lucky enough to score yourself a bunch of friends who knew exactly why you hated Draco, and happened to feel the exact same way. Hermione had been your best friend ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, and you had introduced yourself to Harry and Ron around the same time she did. Now the four of you were a regular fixture on the grounds, and you wouldn’t change it for anything, even a few of the haughtier Slytherins (read: Draco Malfoy) made sure to mention that one of their house shouldn’t be mixing with the Gryffindors.

However, you didn’t really care what they thought. Yes, you were a Slytherin, and that meant a good many things: pride, ambition, and a thick skin in terms of others doubting you. So you became even better friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione just to spite them. You often found yourself with them at the Quidditch games, walking across the grounds, sneaking out of your dormitory late at night for a couple of misadventures, or now, with you and Hermione studying together at a table out in a corner of a stone hall. 

One of the problems of being a Slytherin friend of three Gryffindors is that they could never go back to your common room to study with you, and you certainly weren’t allowed into their common room. Fred and George had offered to sneak you in loads of times, and you technically had been there before under Harry’s invisibility cloak, but for right now, you and Hermione were content to stay away from the roaring fires and plush red armchairs of the Gryffindor common room to work on a particularly gruesome Potions essay. You both wanted to finish it early, Hermione especially so she could then go teach it to Harry and Ron, so you stayed out of the lion’s dorm until you were adequately prepared.

Hermione sighs at the paper in front of her, wrinkling her brow in consternation. “Honestly, what does all of this even mean? I swear, Professor Snape’s directions get worse and worse with every assignment.” You nod fervently. “This prompt makes no sense, and I’ve been staring at it for the last fifteen minutes.” You drum your fingers on the table, thinking, then stand up. “I’m going to get that Potions primer from the library. You know, the one we were reading earlier? I thought I saw some similar wording in one of the chapters, and at any rate, I need an excuse to go stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hermione waves goodbye as you head off down the stone corridors. The walk towards the library takes you across the courtyard, and you’re glad for the refreshing bite of the wind, even if it leaves your cheeks raw from the chill. You traipse inside the halls once more, twisting around corners until you reach the library, and gratefully slip through the doors to reach the towering bookcases crowding the room.

You stride purposefully through the shelves until you come to the row you’re looking for at last. Your eyes scan the titles in front of you, and you think you’re almost at the book until a familiar figure steps into the space right next to you. You don’t even have to look up to recognize him. You’ve seen his unwanted presence too many times for a case of mistaken identity.

Draco speaks first. “I’m surprised to see you, L/N. I didn’t think reading was one of your strong suits.” You raise an eyebrow, still perusing the books on the shelf. “Those are strong words coming from somebody who hit his peak academic performance as a weasel in the fourth year.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Ferret, not a weasel.” You look over at him at last, but can’t help a small grin. “Does it really matter? It was still a small animal, and it was still you.”

Draco heaves some dramatic and egotistical sigh, but folds his arms over his chest and stays put. He’s not looking for books, just standing there. In fact, his eyes keep flickering over to the corner of the library, near the door. You straighten up, following his gaze in confusion. “What are you doing?” You ask him, still trying to figure out what he’s looking at with such unease. “You don’t usually go out of your way to enjoy my company and you also keep staring at the door.”

Draco starts to mutter something about how not all of the library belongs to you, but you cut him off with a gasp of delight. “You’re hiding from Pansy Parkinson! She’s over there looking for you, and you’re trying to make sure she can’t see you by hiding behind all the bookshelves!” You laugh, and then start to raise your voice, as if you’re about to call her over. Instantly, Draco leans over you, pushing you against the bookcase and holding his wand against your throat.

“Don’t say a word.” His voice is cool and low. A teasing grin flickers across your lips, and you push his wand away with one finger. “What, you going to hex me, Malfoy? In the middle of the library? I think that would draw your favorite girl over here more than anything.” Draco just stares daggers at you, breath coming harshly in his chest. He stares there, unmoving, until you jerk your chin towards the doors. “Pansy’s gone. Now can you please let go of me?”

Draco waits a moment just to spite you, and then releases his grip on your wrist. You snatch your hand away from him with an air of disgust, and grab your potions book off of the shelf. “Never do that again.” You hiss at him, and stalk away. Who does he think he is, that lout? You’re still storming over the incident the whole way back to the table, and barely notice that Harry and Ron have joined you until you throw yourself back into your seat.

Hermione looks up at your abrupt arrival. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” You heave a sigh of irritation. “Draco Malfoy, that’s what’s wrong. I ran into that lowlife in the library. I just can’t stand him.” Harry nods knowingly, but Ron, who appears to be in an even worse mood than you, rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining. You’re a Slytherin, he isn’t as bad to you.” This is entirely the wrong thing to say, and you know you should just ignore him but you���re still fired up from the confrontation in the library.

“Are you saying that Malfoy’s not as mean to me because I’m from his house?” Ron nods, ignoring Hermione pointedly shaking her head at him in an attempt to get him to stay quiet. “Yeah, I am. You keep pretending like he’s such a jerk to you, but you don’t have it half as bad as the rest of us. Honestly, you need to stop making such a big deal out of nothing.” You know you’re overreacting, but you can’t take Ron’s griping, not today. You stand up, slamming your books shut and sweeping your parchment and quills into your bag. 

“In that case, I suppose you don’t need my nothing when it comes to your potions essay. Good luck figuring that out.” You glance over at Hermione. “I’m sorry to leave in a rush, but I should be on my way. Swing by later if you need help.” Hermione says her chagrined goodbyes, and as you stalk away from the table, you can hear her laying into Ron already. The sound brings a smile to your face.

You’re still fuming over Draco and Ron and the god-awful Potions essay the next day, and your irritation must show because Pansy takes advantage of the opportunity to cross paths with you as you’re walking through the halls. She’s chattering with a group of her friends in the courtyard, and as you hurry past, you hear her call something out to you. “Oh look, there’s Y/N. You know, she looks surprisingly proud for someone who’s father is a mudblood-lover. Maybe she’s alright with it.”

Your footsteps slow, and you turn back to face Pansy. You know that this is just what she wants, but you’ve got a burning feeling in the back of your head that tells you that if you let one more person walk all over you you’ll never be able to deal with yourself again. You eye Pansy coolly. “What was that, Parkinson?” Pansy smirks, victorious. “I heard a rumor that your father was getting a little too close to some Muggles. That would certainly tarnish your reputation, wouldn’t it? And here I was, thinking that the L/Ns were an upstanding wizarding family, but I guess not. It looks like-”

You feel like you’re a couple of seconds away from punching Pansy right in her arrogantly prissy face, but before you can try to argue yourself out of violence another boy steps up beside you. You groan inwardly when you realize it’s Draco. Great, another person to make fun of you, because this day wasn’t going badly enough already. However, he doesn’t join in the laughter. In fact, he shoots a glare at Pansy. “Amazing, Parkinson. Did you finally realize that your own family was so low that you had to make up rumors to get anywhere? Although, you might want to stay away from the Muggle story. I think it might be a little too true on your end.”

Pansy’s face blanches, and she starts stammering something about how that couldn’t possibly be true and she has no idea what Draco’s talking about. You stare at Draco in amazement, and he turns back to you. “Let’s go. I don’t feel like wasting any more of our time.” With that, the two of you strut away across the courtyard, leaving Pansy behind to make up excuses to her group of friends.

Only when you’re out of hearing distance from Pansy do you finally let yourself relax. You look over at Draco, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “What was that about? Is it really true about Pansy’s family?” Draco, surprisingly, is grinning as well. “I don’t know, but she didn’t seem like she could deny it.” The two of you carry on in hilarity for a while, but then you turn to him, grin slipping away from your face. “Why did you do that?” Draco frowns. “Do what?” You gesture idly behind you with your hand. “Defend me against Parkinson. I would have thought you’d join in instead of having my back.”

Draco shrugs, looking down the hallway. “We’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? I don’t feel like having my rival limited by false rumors. It would lower me too.” You look at him askance. “You publicly insulted Pansy Parkinson just because you think that me being called names hurts you as well?” Draco shrugs. “Why did you think I did it?” You sigh, furrowing your brow. “I don’t know.”

Even after you and Draco turn down separate hallways, you find yourself still thinking about him. Why would he defend you? It makes no sense. You even think back to that moment in the library, and realize that he wasn’t really as cruel as you had thought. All he had done then was exchange the usual retorts, although those had the same joking tinge as always. And wasn’t it strange that of all the places to hide, he had chosen your aisle? It could have just been a coincidence, or maybe he was seeking you out intentionally.

You’re not sure how you feel about this. You’ve grown so used to thinking of Draco as an enemy, someone to be hated, that you don’t quite know what to do when he is nice to you. You find your eyes flickering his way in the common room, or your gaze constantly catching on his silhouette as he walks past you in the halls. You usually never spend this much time thinking about him, but now, he seems to be everywhere.

One night, you can’t focus on your homework. Between the smoky atmosphere of the Slytherin common room or the mind-twisting Transfiguration tasks McGonagall’s set for you, you just can’t seem to get your thoughts in order. Eventually, you close up your books and decide to head to the Astronomy Tower. The cool night air will clear your head, and you’ll still technically be doing homework because you’ll be studying the stars.

You’re grateful for the still emptiness of the tower. You prop your arms up against the stone edge of the balcony, letting your shoulders slump as you consider the dizzying drop to the grounds below. You tilt your head up slightly, letting the wind trace patterns against your skin. You’re just beginning to feel peaceful once again when you hear the door to the Astronomy Tower open and a figure joins you on the turret. You sigh inwardly when you recognize the familiar shock of white-blond hair. Of course- Draco always goes to the Astronomy Tower as a place to unwind. Then you’re surprised as to why that fact popped so readily into your head, and how you even knew that in the first place.

Draco’s steps falter for a second when he realizes he’s not alone. You start to move away from the balcony. “Here, I’ll go. You can have the tower to yourself.” You turn around to find yourself caught in Draco’s gaze, those storm grey eyes pinning you in place. Draco shakes his head just slightly, and his voice echoes across the stone room. “No, don’t go. It’s alright.” You hesitate for a moment, then turn back to the view before you. Your eyes follow the line of trees dotting the grounds, the twisting snakes of rivers that feed into the Black Lake.

After a moment, Draco joins you at the balcony. He leans up against the stone, just a few inches away from you. You both stand there in silence, unable to say a word. At last, Draco turns to you. “What are we?” You return his gaze, slightly confused. “What?” Draco looks away for just a second, and then his eyes return to you. “When we first met, we hated each other. We’ve been rivals for years, and now-” He breaks off. “I don’t think we dislike each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while.” You stay silent for a second, taking in his words. Then you nod.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? It isn’t just me?” For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, spoken too rashly. Draco stares at you, then he leans forward and kisses you. When he breaks away, panic and regret flash through his eyes when you don’t say anything. He starts to move away, but you step towards him and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t break away, not immediately. His hand slides up to the small of your back, the stone of the balcony cool against your legs.

You can still feel his hand on your waist when he breaks away. You look away, sure you’ve made some mistake that you’ll regret in the morning, but then his fingers are lightly pressed against your cheek, guiding you back to look at him again. He looks less sure of anything than you’ve ever seen him, but all of a sudden that doubt is replaced by a calm determination. “This is right. This is what we were supposed to be.” You nod quietly, letting your hesitation break free with a smile. He’s right, isn’t he? No matter how it felt to win all the arguments or competitions with him, this moment right now feels far better than anything before it. This is what you always wanted, and what he wants as well.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Ni Kar'tayl Gar Darasuum

Pairing: Din Djarin x Pregnant! Reader

Summary: When you finally wake up, Din knows it’s time to break the news. (Part 2 of Aliit Be Cuur) 

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mild Description of Injuries

Word Count: 3700

A/N: The much requested part 2 to Aliit Be Cuur! I took some inspiration from a comment by @linkpk88​. My apologies for the long ass name. I just wanted to keep up with the Mando’a theme. 

__________

“M-mando?” Your voice shook and cracked from having gone so long without being used. You were trying to reach towards him but in reality, your fingers only lifted off the medical cot ever so slightly. 

Mando looked as if he’d possibly fallen asleep at your bedside, though it was difficult to know for sure with the helmet and the way he had a habit of sitting so still, even when he was awake. At your words, though, he immediately stood up, shooting to attention and coming to your bedside, “Cyar’ika? How are you feeling?” 

“W-water? Please?” Your mouth was dry and throat stiff. It felt like you’d been breathing in hot sand and it had sucked all the moisture from your body. 

Mando reached down to a water pack he had for himself on the ground by the crate he’d been residing on, unscrewing the lid, and tilting it slightly at your lips. The liquid felt like the best thing you’d ever drank, life suddenly coming back to your body at the small amount of water. “Thank you,” You said as he put the lid back on. 

Mando sighed, his gloved hand coming down to rub over your knuckles gently, careful to avoid anywhere covered with bandages, “Why would you run in like that?” 

“I thought you were dead. I was ready to kill the damn thing with my own two hands. I certainly can tell you I wasn’t expecting it to explode.” You attempted to chuckle weakly but you flinched, hand reaching for your torso in a poor attempt at soothing the pain of the broken ribs and burns. 

Mando noticed the way your fingers grazed unassumingly over your belly that held the secret everyone but you knew about and he stiffened beneath the beskar armor. “How long have I been out?” 

“About a day. The attack was yesterday.” He answered, pulling the crate closer to your bedside so he could sit beside you while you spoke. 

You groaned at the thought of being unconscious for so long, “Am I dying?” You asked in an attempt at making a joke to lighten the mood. You could practically feel the anxiety and stress radiating off Mando and you wanted to try to lighten the mood but clearly it hadn’t helped. Your grip on his fingers tightened slightly, reassuring him. “Hey, I’m kidding. It’s gonna be alright.” 

Mando’s silence was not something you were unaccustomed to. Even now that your relationship was much closer than professional, he was a man of few words. You still couldn’t help the way your face a little when you felt like your joke may have caused more harm than good. 

Little did you know that Mando had glanced up over your shoulder and made eye contact with the nurse from yesterday, the one who had shown him the unborn child within your womb. Of course, the nurse couldn’t tell that the Mandolorian was looking at him but he still sent the masked man a knowing, almost pushing look. 

As selfish as it made Mando feel, because obviously he was very concerned for your wellbeing and wanted nothing more than for you to be awake and okay, he was relieved when you remained asleep through the night. It gave him time to get his own thoughts straight, how he felt and how he would tell you. 

Children were sacred in Mandolorian culture. With depleted numbers, many of the Alor had encouraged child rearing amongst Mandolorians or the adoption of Foundlings to save the Way. Even so, Mando had honestly never actually seriously considered being a father, at least not at this stage of his life. He had Grogu, to whom he was a father by the Creed, but physically rearing his own genetic children felt different to him, even if it wasn’t supposed to. He lived a dangerous life full of criminals and skeezy backwater planets and he was comfortable that way. Even if it was preferred that Mandolorians reproduce, he was one of the few that had been called more to a life of service. Besides, after losing everyone he’d ever loved, from his birth parents to his clan, he was used to being alone. A part of him was scared to bring more people into his life because he didn’t want to keep losing them. Even accepting the fact that he loved you took a long time. 

But Mando was nothing if not a man of duty and honor and, as the leader of his clan of two, your lover, a father to Grogu, and now a father to your unborn child, he had a responsibility to protect and care for all within his clan, which was now about to expand to a clan of four. It was a responsibility that he had actually come to almost look forward to in some aspects in the early morning hours when he allowed his mind to move from the hardships that you were sure to face to the happy memories you were all sure to make together. 

“There’s-there’s something you need to know.” He began directly, his modulated voice sounding strained. 

Your smile faded at his tone and you gave him a concerned look, “Wait, am I actually dying?” 

His helmet shook side to side in a moment of silence before he continued, struggling to find the right words. All the words he’d spent all night rehearsing in his head were failing him now. “No. They said you’re going to be fine.” He began, another pause between words as the actual confession was so much harder to get out than he imagined it would be. Mando had never been a man of many words but suddenly there were no words at all that seemed fitting. 

Your eyebrows raised and you shook your head a little, indicating for him to continue. Nerves buzzed through your body. Mando was never like this. Sure, he had never been very talkative but he was concise and straight to the point when he did. He was never one to beat around the bush or draw out information for dramatic effect. Whatever he had on his mind must have been serious if he were struggling this badly. “What’s wrong, Mando? What happened?” 

“The nurse came by while you were out. He said you’re pregnant.” The words came out clear and blunt, straight to the point. It was the only way he could process the information himself and he struggled to find a more delicate way to put it to you. 

Your jaw went slack at the news, “What?” 

“You didn’t know?” It wasn’t so much a question as much as it was a confirmation of what he had hoped. You hadn’t known. You weren’t keeping secrets from him. That alone made him feel better. 

You shook your head, looking a little offended at the suggestion, “No, of course not. I- I wouldn’t have-” Your brain was moving a million miles a minute and cohesive sentences were difficult to form. “You have to trust me that I would have told you if I knew.” 

The sentiment let out a floodgate of relief in Mando’s chest. “What do you want to do?” He asked simply. Throughout the night, he had thought about this long and hard and the more he thought, the more he was actually excited about the prospect of having a baby. An actual baby. He knew that this wasn’t just his decision though. 

You swallowed hard, looking down at your stomach that you had just noticed was covered with Mando’s cape. “I-I don’t know. I need some time to think. This is just… a lot.” 

You didn’t talk about it for a while. You barely spoke at all for almost an hour. After he knew you were alright, Mando had left your side to take Grogu outside. The poor kid had been cooped up inside for almost two days. It also allowed you time to think without the pressure of him being right beside you. Mando didn’t know if you needed time alone to process the information or if you needed him there to talk it through but he knew that he preferred to have time to himself to figure things out and it was the best thing he could think of to help you. 

The nurse had stopped by while Mando was gone, just to ensure that the Mandolorian had in fact informed you that you were pregnant. He went over your vitals, important basic information about being pregnant, answered any questions you had, and reapplied bacta to all your wounds, which were estimated to be fully healed up within the next few hours with minimal scarring, thanks to the miracle medicine. You felt better after he left, physically and emotionally. 

When Mando returned a few hours later, you were sitting up in bed, having made nearly a full recovery. “You’re looking better.” He commented as he walked over to you. 

You gave a small smile of acknowledgement before looking down at your hands and flexing your wrists. You stretched out your torso a little bit. Your back was certainly achy but at least you didn’t feel like you had been hit by a flaming X-wing anymore. Mando felt better now that he could see the burns and abrasions that had littered so much of your body fading away to your natural skin color, only a few looking like they might possibly even leave a scar. 

“I’m feeling better.” You responded and it was clear that you meant it about everything. 

Grogu toddled towards the bed and reached his tiny arms out in an attempt to reach the frame and climb his way up to you but couldn’t reach. With an amused chuckle, you bent down and lifted the baby effortlessly. 

Mando didn’t want to press you about the matter but he was desperate to know what exactly your future held. He stood in waiting silence until you spoke again, “How do you feel about this?” 

Despite the fact that you were often concerned for others before yourself, he hadn’t been expecting that question. It also just wasn’t a question he had ever been used to being asked. Nobody usually cared. “How do I feel?” 

You nodded, looking up to him, “Yeah.” 

Mando sighed before sitting on the medical cot beside you, the thin mattress dipping more under his weight and the weight of his armor. He struggled to find the right answer to this question. Not just the right answer that you wanted to hear but the right answer that was truthful to himself. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” 

“What does that mean?” You asked, gently stroking Grogu’s soft head while you glanced to your left at Mando. You had tried to pick up on Mando’a since you’d been travelling with Mando but he rarely spoke it unless it was a knee-jerk expletive, which you too were now an expert on. 

“It means I love you. I know you. But it’s much deeper than those words mean in this language. But… that’s how I feel.” It took a lot for Mando to admit his feelings for you. Words of affection were seldom exchanged between the two of you. Your love for each other manifested more as just a mutual feeling of love, protection, and honesty with each other that extended beyond platonic friendship. Mando especially had a hard time expressing his feelings so when the words left his mouth, you couldn’t take your eyes off the visor in his helmet that hid those eyes you wished so badly you could finally see. 

“I love you too,” You started, wishing you could repeat those words in his tongue but knowing you would do them no justice. There was a brief pause while you inhaled a deep thoughtful breath before you continued, vulnerably honest, “I would like to raise this child with you, Mando.” 

Again, another pause. The silence hung thick and uncomfortable in the air, at least for you. You wished so deeply you could see his face so you could at least try to get a glimpse of something that might be going on in his head. You swallowed hard, attempting to get rid of the lump in your throat that was forming in the midst of his pensive silence. You took your eyes off his helmet that seemed to be pointed towards your knees or the ground just below them, though you could never tell exactly where his gaze ever actually was, and stared at your lap where you began to pick at your fingers with your thumb nail. 

“Din.” 

“What?” 

You looked back over to the Mandalorian to see his visor turn towards you and this time you were sure his gaze matched. “If we’re going to have a child together, I want you to know my name. It’s Din. Din Djarin.” 

You smiled, knowing how important this was to him. Mandalorian culture was still something you were learning about and you hadn’t met any other than Man- Din - but he had never told you his name before so you assumed that perhaps it was like his face, where you couldn’t know it in its true form. “Din Djarin,” You tested the name on your tongue, “I like it. It suits you.” 

Din’s mouth fell in disbelief beneath his helmet at the way his name rolled so sweetly off your tongue and he let out a little sigh of happiness when you had said you liked it. Though saying his name was not breaking the Creed, it was something he very seldom told anyone. It reminded him of his home planet and his birth parents, good memories tainted by tragedy that he preferred to avoid. It was also a way that he kept people at an arm’s length, a habit he’d developed quickly as a distrusting bounty hunter. But he didn’t want to be called Mando by you anymore. If you were going to give him the gift of a child, a literal human being to call his own, the least he could give in return was as much of him as he had to give. 

“There’s one more thing,” He began, reaching into his pocket. You stayed silent but waiting as you watched him pull a long chain from his pants, a small pearlescent shard dangling from the end. He held it up for you to see, the jagged and unrefined edges to the uniquely beautiful stone swaying in his grip. “I would like you to become my riduur.” 

Your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape. That word you knew. The Armorer had asked Din if you were his riduur back on Navarro all those months ago, to which he honestly answered no to. “I love you, Din, but I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m pregnant.” 

“In my culture, we come to have our own children in several ways but marriage is not necessary in any. Like I said earlier, mesh’la: Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. And I would be extremely grateful if you would do me the honor of joining me in riduurok, baby or not.” He confessed, pressing the necklace into your hands. 

The edges, though jagged, were not sharp by any means. Simply unrefined but there was a beauty in it. The light created the illusions of different textures across the small stone. The chain was thin and of a material that you didn’t recognize, a dark grey metal that definitely was not silver, beskar, gold, or steel. “Usually betrothal tokens are rings. I know this is not a ring but Cobb had managed to scour a few broken pieces of Krayt pearl from the dragon yesterday and should you accept my offer, I will replace that chain with one made of beskar.” 

You shook your head, trying to shake away any doubt as to how perfect his gesture could be, “It’s beautiful. I love it.” 

“You don’t have to decide now.” 

“I would be an honor to be your riduur.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “You’ve never even seen my face and you’re willing to marry me?” 

You reached a hand out to rest on his helmet, just where it curved inwards where his cheek should be, “I know that I love the heart of the man behind this armor and I know what you feel like without it in the dark. I am willing to marry you without knowing what you look like beneath that helmet because I know I love you regardless.” 

Din’s hand came to press against yours, holding it against his helmet. Inside, his face was pressed against the interior, wishing he could feel more than just mere knowledge that your hand was there. He wished he could feel your skin against his again. “When we are bound in riduurok, I can finally remove my helmet for you and for you alone.” 

Your heart picked up with excitement, “You mean I can really see your face one day?” 

His helmet nodded up and down. 

“I can’t wait to look you in the eye and kiss you one day.” You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the beskar shielding Din’s face but he was mirroring the action beneath. A smile crept up on your lips and you handed him back the necklace, “Would you mind?” 

He reached around your neck and clasped the necklace together, pulling your hair gently to lay over the thin metal cord. “How’s it look?” You asked, straightening out the pearl over your chest. 

“Like it was meant to be there.” 

His arm fell to rest comfortable behind your back and you leaned over to rest your head on his shoulder. It was uncomfortable from the beskar that pressed hard into your cheek but you would still rest like that for the rest of time and then some if it meant you could be with Din. Grogu sat between you, a tiny leg on each of your legs and your hand pressing against his stomach gently to keep him from falling forward. 

When he startled wiggling around in your grasp, making tiny grunts of effort, it drew both yours and Din’s attention down to see what the kid was doing. He twisted to face your stomach, your hand now firmly keeping him from tumbling backwards. Neither you or Din were sure quite how much of your language he understood but it would have appeared that he somehow understood that there was now a new addition to your clan because his small three-fingered hand stretched out to rest against your lower belly and he closed his eyes, leaning back into your hand slightly. 

At first, you thought he was just trying to feel for the baby, which of course was far from being large enough at this stage to feel, especially from the outside. “Hey, hey! What’re you doing?” Din asked, not angrily but definitely concerned for what Grogu could be doing to the new baby. Though he wasn't a malicious child, Din had seen him choke Cara with the Force once before and he couldn't be sure what was going on within your womb from the outside. All he knew was that the kid was definitely using the Force. 

Grogu kept his eyes shut, ignoring his father, but a look of contentment spread over his face. That was when you felt it. You weren't even quite sure what it was that you were feeling but it felt positive, like an awareness of the life inside you that had been previously unbeknownst. It was more than that though. You could feel your connection to it and, though you knew it sounded absolutely insane, you could have sworn you could feel Grogu connecting to the fetus as well. 

Din made a move to lift the child from your lap but you put your hand on his forearm to stop him, “Wait, it’s alright.” You nodded in reassurance, looking down to Grogu. “Can you feel them?” 

Grogu reached out his other hand for Din’s, his entire hand only able to wrap around a single gloved finger. That was when Din felt it too. Again, it was a sensation he couldn’t describe. It was almost like an awareness of life but it was clearly emanating from within your womb. Grogu was merely acting as a bridge for Din.

 “Do you feel it too?” You asked, looking up at Din. 

Beneath his helmet, his mouth was agape as he struggled to process the feeling of life and light that seemed to radiate from where his body met Grogu’s and that his mind was able to just innately comprehend that this was the life you and he had created. “Yeah, I feel it.” He breathed out in amazement. “Is that the baby?” Din asked, the idea sounding preposterous but at the same time he had no idea of the capabilities of this new thing he’d learned of called the Force. He didn’t know the limits of Grogu’s power or his connection to it. 

Grogu’s hands fell from both your stomach and Din’s hand as he flopped onto his butt on your knee with an exhausted plop. Nevertheless, his disproportionate green ears wiggled happily and the rosiness in his cheeks made you fairly certain the answer was yes. 

Your hand came to cover where Grogu’s hand had just been, no longer feeling that same light feeling you had when he was touching you. Din no longer felt that connection either since Grogu sat down. “I don’t know what that was but it was kind of amazing.” You let out a breathy chuckle, “We’re going to be an actual family. Can you believe it, Din?” 

“Y’know, deep down, I think a part of me always wanted to have a family. A riduur and a youngling all of my own. I just got so used to being alone that I didn’t think I would ever find someone I’d want that with. But now I have you and Grogu and,” his hand came around your front to gently rest on your stomach, “this. I promise you that I will care for you and protect you both until the day you give birth and every day after.” 

You lifted your hand to Din’s helmet, gently turning him to face you, “Trillions of men in this universe and I got lucky enough to find you.” Grogu squealed in your lap and you laughed, stroking his ears, “And you.” Your hand dropped to Din’s lap and you laid your head against his chest plate, “I love you, Din. I cannot wait to spend the rest of our lives together.” 

[sanchosammy]

miss gaga can I request a drabble with the prompts, “Did you know that you’re broken?” & “It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up.” okay bye i love youuuu

I love you too miss girl @warrentrash, and OF COURSE YOU CANNNNN. (Please go check out @warrentrash​ because she also does fantastic prompts).

Prompts chosen: “Did you know that you’re broken?” and “It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up.”

You looked at the small watch on your wrist. A beautiful silver watch, it was your grandmother’s and you would only wear it for special occasions. That detail only made you more upset as you looked at the time filled with disappointment. 10:45. He was late... No, at this point, he was far past the term late. He simply stood you up.

What an asshole.

You have been partnered with Javier Peña for well over a year now. Murphy, Peña, and yourself were quite the team. However, in recent months, Javier was hellbent on taking you out on a date. You both had a thing for each other and it was beyond obvious.

And though he asked you several times with that charm you were so fond of... That didn’t stop you from continuously denying him the opportunity. You wanted so badly to accept because you found yourself drawn to Javier like a moth to light, but he was known for being nothing short of a ladies man in the past. And so you remained flirting with him at an emotional distance.

Which is why this moment hurt twice as bad. You finally accepted his offer after he saved your life on the job. One of Pablo’s men attempted to pull a hit and run on you as the two of you investigated a crime scene. Javier practically tackled you out of the way of the speeding vehicle, saving both of your lives in the process. The rush of emotions that night made you finally move past your fears and provide Javi a chance to take you out properly.

He said to meet him at La Rosa at 8:30. A little more high-class restaurant with a bar. A beautiful selection you would’ve given him props for. That was if he had shown up. You didn’t even know why you were still here at this point. False hope that he would show up and explain that this was all a huge misunderstanding? You laughed bitterly before you downed the rest of your drink.

You weren’t sure how many of these you had, but at this point you were nowhere near sober. You slapped money down for the drink before pulling yourself off the stool. You were embarrassed as you climbed into the taxi-cab trying to give him your address in Spanish while being your tipsy. A few attempts before he understood what you were trying to say, but thankfully he worked with you and so you were sure to tip him for the inconvenience. 

Heels were not the best choice to drink in and by the time you were stepping out of the cab, they were in your hands instead. You didn’t care about the dirty sidewalk. You just wanted to go home and drown in self pity. The fact that you’d have to face Javier the next day at work was beyond humiliating. 

You tried to keep quiet as you walked towards the stairway. Javier’s door caught you by surprise as it opened and his eyes found yours, you could see the panic rush through him.

“Wait, wait, (Y/N). I can explain everything.” He rushed forward from the doorway as if you would disappear into thin air in front of you.

You looked at him with such a sourness behind your stare. “Leave me alone, Javi.” 

Your eyes trailed past him. The door was not shut behind him. A woman sitting on his couch caught your attention and apparently you had caught hers as well. The awkward pause from you made Javier follow your direct line of sight and you heard the fuck under his breath. 

“No. No, listen to me cariño. I promise it’s not-.”

“Fuck you Peña.” You could hardly get the words out. The anger inside had your blood boiling. He didn’t expect your next move and you had hardly thought it through, but you found yourself throwing the heels in your hands at him.

“Baby, please listen to me.” He called out behind you as you rushed towards the stairway wanting to never see his face again. Though that was impossible because you worked together, you refused to look at him in this moment. He not only missed your date but for another woman? The man practically pleaded for the chance to take you out for months and this was how he repaid you?

His footsteps weren’t immediate to follow you to the top of the stairway. The sound of him closing his door echoed off the walls instead. However, you couldn’t have been that lucky because the sound of his footsteps were now rushing up the stairs that led to your apartment. You just almost made it in time to close the door on him, but he threw his body into the doorway stopping you in your tracks.

“Get away from me.” You called out pushing the door against his body. You didn’t care if it hurt him in the process. He pushed against your strength, which wasn’t hard considering your tipsy state. “You’re a piece of shit, Javier!”

“Cariño,” He kept his voice calm, he understood how it looked and he knew how badly it had to hurt. He was a piece of shit. Even if it wasn’t for the reason you thought, he still shouldn’t have done things this way.

“No, don’t you fucking cariño me. Just because you’re broken inside doesn’t mean you have to drag me down with you,” You replied with venom in your words. You stopped pushing the door against him causing Javier to almost fall in from the lack of pressure to fight against. You didn’t skip a beat as you continued, your voice now much lower but your drunken bitterness continued “Did you know you’re broken, Javi? Drowning your sorrows into women, that isn’t healthy. I thought you wanted to change… I thought you wanted me.”

He didn’t miss how your voice broke at the end. And it hurt him more than he could’ve thought. You turned around shaking your head, a sob breaking out as you tried to keep it together in front of him.

The words had hurt him. It cut a little too deep, and if he wasn’t in the wrong his pride would’ve turned him right out the door. You were right. He was a broken man in many ways, and he had spent most of his time trying to find the answers in anywhere else but himself. That changed with you though, he hadn’t slept with an informant in months after he realized how badly he wanted to be with you.

You brought in a hope and peace that he hadn’t felt in many years.

His arms wrapped around you before you could escape into your bedroom door, which wasn’t hard because at this point the fight in you had left. You were drunk and emotional, and worst of all, you were beyond hurt.

“Please, let me explain,” He whispered out. His hand softly brushing against your hair in an attempt to soothe your heartache. You were so tired you allowed him to pull you towards the couch and sit you down. He didn't sit beside you though, he was on his knees looking up at you.

“I swear. I know how it looks, (Y/N). I promise on everything I have ever loved, it is not what it looks like.” His voice was soft as he reassured you. His thumbs wiping away the tears on your face in the process.

You let out a sigh and shook your head. “It’s fine, Peña. It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up. If you didn’t want to go out to dinner, you should have just told me instead.”

His heart broke into pieces at the confession, and the fact you thought he didn’t want to be at the dinner with you. He lifted your chin so your eyes would meet his. You could be put in a trance with those deep brown eyes of his.

“I wanted to be at dinner, hermosa. I was about to leave when an old informant came in, Pablo has a hit on her because she witnessed one of his meetings. I knocked on your door, I called the phone, but I couldn’t get in contact with you… I know I am a piece of shit because I put work first, but I couldn’t leave her to die. The three of us need this to catch Escobar.”

He gathered your hands together in his and stared at you. He was quite literally on his knees begging at this point. “You have every right not to… but please, (Y/N). Forgive me for this.”

You looked at him for a moment. Your voice came out quiet like a child who was scared to ask a simple question, but truthfully you were scared you wouldn’t like the answer. “You didn’t sleep with her, right?”

“No.” He kissed your hands and looked back up at you “Nothing happened, I’ve been waiting for you to get home.”

With a long exhale you nodded. “Okay, I forgive you Javi… I’m sorry for what I said.” Embarrassment was stuck with you with all this new information, the scene downstairs looked so stupid now.

“Don’t worry about it.” He offered a soft smile and you returned it. His hands softly rubbed yours as silence filled the room for a second. The both of you calming down from the dramatic episode that just played out.

“You look beautiful by the way.” Your cheeks became warm at the sudden compliment. You leaned forward resting your forehead against his shoulder in an attempt to hide your blush. He didn’t attempt to hide his chuckle in response.

“Thank you.” You finally force out. “I’m not going to lie, Javi... I’m drunk.

“Yeah, I know.” He laughed before standing up, softly pulling you with him. He didn’t hesitate to pick you up bridal style. He carried you to your bedroom as he teased, “Drinking without me, that’s cruel Y/L/N.”

“I’m just surprised I made it home. Turns out Spanish with a few drinks in is a challenge.” You joked as he sat you on the bed. You noticed the disapproving look he gave in response, more out of concern than anything. He didn’t mention how he almost called Murphy to drop his position in a mission to go looking for you instead. He looked through your dresser and found some baggy shirt that would do for the night.

His fingers unzipped the back of your dress before he kissed the top of head. “Get dressed, I’ll be right back.”

He left the room while you attempted to change for the night. It had only been hardly two minutes, but by the time he had come back you found yourself under the covers barely awake. He placed a glass of water on the nightstand and kissed your head once again.

“Listen, I fucked up tonight.” His voice was quiet as he sat beside you on the edge of the bed. His thumb gently stroking your cheek as he watched your sleepiness start to take over. “You don’t have to decide now but I want to make it up to you. Whenever you’re ready, if you are ever ready, just let me know.”

He cleared his throat. Emotions weren’t his thing, he’d consider them something new he was exploring again after many years of pushing them down. But he was willing to try again, that was if you were involved.

It was small, but a smile formed on your face. He hardly caught your reply, “Next Thursday, asshole.”

He bit his lip trying to contain his own satisfaction. He had pulled a lot of deals with people all over. People on the street and people in the government, some of them being literally his job on the line. However, this was a different kind of fulfillment. He wanted nothing more than a chance with you and he just got it.

“Goodnight, mi amor.” You could feel his grin as he kissed your hand. The sound of the door closing this time was a lot more peaceful and satisfying to hear.

You knew he couldn’t hear you, but in your sleepy love-drunken state you mumbled it out anyway. “Goodnight Javier.”

[havenoffandoms]

hi it's me again!! can you do "“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.” with geralt and reader? tysm i love ur writing so much

I can’t express just how happy I am that you’re requesting all these prompts! <3 This is not me procrastinating, and writing out these requests instead of my WIPs, or you know, actual uni work. This fill is a bit longer, just because I got inspired! I started this prompt thinking it would turn out funny and light-hearted, but my brain took a different turn. The second prompt you requested will be nothing but softness.

Prompt: “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.”

Warnings: This is on the angsty side, considered yourselves warned. 

Tumblr Request Masterlist “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people,” you declare, rather dramatically, while glaring at your cell companion. Jaskier offers a sheepish smile in return, then startles when he feels something quick and furry brush past his wrist. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, Y/N. Besides, Geralt is probably already on his way to save us, you know just how much our dear witcher likes to play the part of the knight in shining armour.”

You pull your knees closer to your chest and shoo away the stray rats nibbling at the sole of your shoes. You want to believe Jaskier’s words, you really do, but you’ve been stuck in this cell for… how long has it been, anyway? It’s hard to tell without any windows, making it impossible to assess with certainty what time of day it is. It’s been too long regardless, especially when you and Jaskier didn’t do anything that would justify throwing you in a cell, your only crime being your association with Geralt of Rivia. 

Your heart tightens at the thought. Whatever information these men wish to pull out of you, you decide that you’ll rather die than reveal anything about Geralt. And you know that Jaskier feels the same way about his long-time friend. 

“I don’t know, Jaskier. What if… what if he doesn’t?” 

“Now, now. None of that.” Jaskier moves until his arm is pressed against yours and he’s able to grab a hold of your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “If there’s anything I know for certain about my dear friend Geralt, it’s that he would never, ever, leave his friends stranded.”

“What if he doesn’t know that we’re in this cell?” you insist, your voice trembling with barely restrained panic, “what if he decides that we’re not worth the trouble? He needs to protect Ciri, so he might not come, and these men could ki-”

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Jaskier urges you to face him by tugging at your hand. You can’t hide the tears welling up in your eyes as you let fear take over. Jaskier offers a reassuring smile, despite the current circumstances, and you take comfort in the familiarity of his presence. “Breathe, alright? Panicking won’t help us. Have a little faith. Geralt cares about us. He cares about you. He’ll come, don’t worry.” 

Jaskier rests his forehead against yours affectionately, and for the briefest of moments, you allow yourself to believe that Geralt will indeed come and save the day.

___________

You’re suddenly jostled awake when you hear commotion just outside your and Jaskier’s cell. The bard is still pressed against you, though this time he looks a lot less confident than he did earlier when he was comforting you. You hear a loud crash, the sound of steel clashing against steel, then a pained scream followed by muffled gurgling. Something big and heavy crashes against your cell door, causing it to rattle precariously in its hinges. You hide your face in Jaskier’s chest and feel pull you closer to him, trying to protect you from whatever is happening outside despite the fact that he’s clearly as terrified as you are. The commotion goes on for another short couple of minutes which feel like hours to you and Jaskier. Finally, you hear the familiar sound of a sword being sheathed before someone unlocks your cell door. You don’t dare look up from the relative safety of Jaskier’s embrace, pinching your eyes shut as you expect the worst. 

“Geralt, my friend!” Jaskier lets out a startled laugh, ringing bright with mirth and evident relief at the sight of their saviour. He gently pulls you away from him, forcing you to look at him. “I told you, Y/N. I told you he’d come for us.” 

“Y/N,” you hear the rough baritone of Geralt’s voice call out for you, though there is an urgency in his tone that you’re not used to from him. You eventually peel away from Jaskier and turn to face Geralt. He’s covered in blood - though most of it probably not his own, you remind yourself to keep yourself from spiralling. You barely bite back a startled yelp when you take in the sight of his face; his eyes are still mostly black, a side-effect from the witcher potions he likely consumed before stepping into the dungeon to your and Jaskier’s rescue, and the dark sinewy veins contrast against his far too pale skin.

“Geralt? You… you came,” you breathe out, your tone halfway between reverend and horrified, “I… I’m sorry you had to… I’m sorry…”

You don’t notice the tears trailing down your cheeks until you hear Geralt’s sharp intake of breath. In the blink of an eye, thanks to the superhuman speed the potions grant him, he’s kneeling by your side, cupping your face in his hands and thumbing away the fresh wave of relieved tears. A sob pushes past your lips when you finally collapse against Geralt, the firmness of his chest as familiar as the sound of his voice by now. Your witcher pulls you impossibly closer and wraps you up in a tight embrace, whispering sweet reassuring nothings into your ear. 

“Don’t be sorry, dove. I’m here, you’re safe. Not goin’ anywhere, either. Shh, you’re alright…”

“I hate to ruin this heartfelt reunion,” Jaskier’s soft voice suddenly interrupts the moment, and you can sense the underlying urgency in his tone, “truly, this has the potential to become my next big hit, but we really should be getting out of here. It won’t be long before reinforcement comes our way…”

“Jaskier’s right,” Geralt rises to his feet and pulls you up despite your yelp of protest, “are either of you hurt?”

“No,” you manage to answer before wiping the last of your tears, willing yourself to keep it together a little while longer, “let’s go, the quicker we’re out of here the better.”

__________

You’re exhausted by the time you reach camp. Jaskier is happily chatting away about his newest ballad, like he and you did not just spend the gods know how long in a prison cell. You don’t understand how the bard does, how he manages to pretend like nothing happened when you’re still twitchy and trembling. Geralt ignores Jaskier’s ranting for the most part, too focused on making sure you’re fine. He helps you dismount Roach by offering his hand for support, though when you slide off the saddle, you all but slump limply into his arms. 

“Talk to me, dove,” he whispers to you, low enough so as to not draw Jaskier’s attention, “are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yes, Geralt.” You offer what you hope is a reassuring smile, but judging by the frown your efforts are met with, you’re unable to convince your love, “I’m just tired. And still a bit shaken.”

“I’ll get a fire going. Sit down, have a rest.”

“Oh, and by the way, Geralt,” Jaskier saunters over to where you and Geralt are standing, “you’ll have to tell me how you managed to bypass all these guards, and don’t be stingy on the details.”

“Not now, Jaskier,” Geralt grouses, still not letting go of you, “if you want to show your gratitude, get a fire going.”

Jaskier shoots you a concerned look, but he thankfully doesn’t press you as he goes to do as Geralt requested. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sink deeper into Geralt’s embrace. You let his familiar scent wash over you in calming waves as he gently drags you down to his bedroll. You vaguely feel Geralt pull away from you and wrap a warm blanket around your shoulders, tucking you in snugly before pulling you to him once again. Your eyes flutter shut as you finally allow yourself to come down from your high. 

“I was so worried about you,” you hear Geralt mumble against your hair, before pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head, “thought I’d gotten there too late to save you.” 

“You didn’t. You saved us, and that’s what matters.” You crane your neck as much as you’re able to capture Geralt’s lips in a tender kiss. “I’m just glad you came when you did.”

“As am I, dove.”

This time, the smile you flash him reflects nothing but genuine love and gratitude. You fall asleep in his arms, confident that he’ll watch over you and keep you safe. 

[rafecameron]

sunkissed

summary: Sarah’s pen pal of several years finally comes to visit - she can’t help but fall for her friends older brother

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 8K

a/n: I don’t really go here anymore but i wrote this a couple months ago and a few people said they wanted to read it so here to go (gif is mine)

Dear y/n,

               You will never believe what’s been happening! I’ve fallen in love (for real this time)! And he’s a pogue! His names John B, he works on my dads boat, I know cliché. I thought I was happy with my life, thought I had everything planned out and everything was perfect but I never realised how much I was missing! The pogues are all so carefree - considering. They just do whatever they want and it’s always fun, I haven’t stopped laughing since I’ve been hanging out with them.

My brother isn’t very happy about it, but he’s not very happy about anything really. He called me a traitor for hanging out with pogues, he’s so annoying! I can’t wait for him to go off to college or something and just get out of my hair!

The second bit of good news? My dad said you can come stay for the summer! As in the whole summer! Now you just have to get permission and we can finally see each other again! I’m so excited let me know as soon as you can come!

                                                       Love, Sarah.

It was written in her neat hand on her usual pale pink paper. You loved the end of the month when you’d receive a letter from your best friend. Best friend. It always felt strange and people never understood how you could have a best friend you had met on vacation when you were seven. You hadn’t seen each other since but you had promised to keep in touch with letters and you had much to both your parents surprise. You loved when Sarah would complain about her older brother and younger sister, she was always so dramatic when she spoke about them. You also couldn’t believe that not only had she fallen in love (again - this was the twelfth time since you were seven) but she had gotten permission for you to stay the rest of the summer and had waiting to tell you via letter! You grabbed your phone off of your night stand and quickly hit the call button under her name, waited a few rings, then her cheerful voice answered.

“Y/N! Did you get my letter?” She asks quickly.

“Yes. I can’t believe you haven’t already told me about your new boyfriend! Or that I’m allowed to come and stay!” You complain.

“You know I like saving my good news for the letters. It feels more...romantic.” She giggles down the phone, “so, can you stay?”

“I haven’t asked yet. I can’t see why they’d say no.” You roll over onto your back, smiling widely up at the ceiling, “so tell me about John B!”

And she did. She told you everything they had done together so far, how amazing he was, how charming and funny and hot. He didn’t much sound like yours or Sarah’s type at all but you couldn’t help the grin on your face hearing how happy she sounded when she spoke about him. You stayed on the phone for well over an hour listening to her gush over her new man before finally hanging up.

You were excited at the prospect of finally seeing Sarah again but also a little hesitant. She sounded so wrapped up and in love with John B that you were sure you would be the third wheel for the whole summer. Or the sixth wheel, after hearing about her new friends too. But the excitement of seeing Sarah won over your worries so you ran downstairs to ask permission to go. After lots of begging and lots of sucking up, your parents said yes.

—-

You had never been anywhere on your own before so you were nervous the minute your parents left you at the dock to board the ferry. You were sure something would go wrong. You’d lose your ticket. You’d get on the wrong boat. But amazingly everything went smoothly and before you knew it you were getting off the other side. The midday sun was blaring down already, it was much hotter out here on the island than it was where you lived well into the mainland.

You walk along the dock, trying your best to see over the top of people’s heads to try and spot your friend. You were slowly starting to worry she wasn’t here until you saw the blonde leaning against a post, you hurried over probably bashing people with your bags but you didn’t care.

Sarah spotted you as you ran closer, her face suddenly breaking out into a wide grin as you dropped your bags and pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

“Oh my god you’re finally here!” She cheers squeezing you back just was hard.

“It’s been a long time coming.” You smile giving her one last squeeze before letting go, “So, what's on the agenda for this summer?”

“We’re going to have the best summer ever!” Sarah links her arm through yours after you pick your bag up, “We’re going to go shopping, have late nights watching movies, parties on the beach! It’s going to be amazing.”

You agree and throw your bag into the back of Sarah’s car before climbing into the passenger seat. The whole drive to her house you let her gush about John B and how amazing he was, you refrained from pointing out she’d already told you over the phone. You loved seeing her face light up when she spoke about him and only wished you could feel that way about someone one day.

You knew Sarah’s house would be big however it was a lot bigger than you ever imagined it would be. But as you drew closer it wasn’t the house that was drawing your attention but the boy in front of it. He was wearing a grey T-shirt, tight against his biceps as he leant over a bike rubbing at it with a cloth. You couldn’t stop your eyes from watching his arms as they flexed cleaning the bike.

“Okay, disgusting. Can you stop eye fucking my brother?” Sarah laughs and pushes your shoulder, “I cannot deal with that all summer.”

“That’s Rafe?” You ask looking back over to him, “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was hot?”

“Ew, he’s my brother he’s not hot! He’s also an asshole.” She rolls her eyes before finally climbing out of the car. You follow suit, pulling your bag from the back and following her towards the house. Your eyes land back on Rafe as you walk past but the boy doesn’t look up from his task so you turn away and follow Sarah into the house.

——

“Fucking hell JJ you’re gonna set everything on fire!” Pope shouts, the boy jumps up and runs after the blonde who was currently running around the yard with a burning log pretending to be a caveman.

“Is he always like that?” You ask looking at the curly haired girl beside you.

“Oh, yeah,” she nods, “He’s an idiot.”

You laugh and watch Pope grab the log from JJ, telling his friend off before he threw the log back into the bonfire. JJ followed Pope back to the circle, sitting down in a sulk as he took an angry gulp from his beer.

“Never any fun.” He mutters to himself before breaking out in a grin, “Hey, y/n you haven’t seen my party trick! Let’s take the boat out!”

“JJ it’s pitch black,” Kie shakes her head, “You can barely do it in daylight, you’ll end up falling overboard and drowning.”

JJ let’s out another huff, “Alright, what am I supposed to do for fun then?”

Sarah had brought you to John B’s chateau to meet her friends. John B was not at all how you imagined him but you liked him well enough. Kie was lovely as was Pope and you looked forward to hanging out with them more. JJ was definitely a little chaotic and not someone you would usually hang out with but he seemed to have good intentions so you were sure he’d grow on you.

The night was full of drinking and laughing, the boys running around like idiots as you and the girls fell about laughing at their antics. This was the kind of thing you thought about when you thought of perfect summer nights. Drinks with friends, evenings full of laughter with music and a bonfire.

——

You were thankful that you didn’t drink too much the night before when you woke up with a clear head. You poked your head into Sarah’s room to find her still fast asleep, arm dangling off the bed as her face pressed into the pillows.

You made our way around the kitchen, opening up every cupboard in search of a glass. You let out a huff of frustration when you open your fourth cupboard to find plates and still no glasses.

“Need a hand?” A voice asks, causing you to jump back in surprise.

You spin around to see Sarah’s brother leaning against the doorframe, apparently having watched you search the kitchen for the last few minutes.

“Glasses?” You ask hopefully.

He shoots you a small smirk and walks into the kitchen towards the cupboard furthest from you and hands you a glass from it.

“Coffee?” He asks, already placing two mugs down onto the counter.

“Sure, thanks.” You take the glass and fill it with water from the fridge, gladly accepting the steaming mug of coffee the boy offers.

“I’m Rafe.” He finally introduces himself.

“I know, Sarah’s annoying older brother,” you let out a laugh, “Y/N.” You offer him your name with a slight smile.

“So you’re the pen pal, isn’t that a bit redundant now?” He leans against the counter, legs crossed slightly as he looks over at you.

You copy his stance opposite him and shrug, “Somewhat, but there’s something a lot more personal about receiving a letter, more intimate. I think it’s a shame people don’t do it anymore.”

“But a text is much quicker.” Rafe shrugs, seeming to miss the point completely, but it’s what you expected.

“Yes, it is quicker.” You agree.

A silence falls over the kitchen, a silence that’s surprisingly not awkward. You study Rafe as he looks down at his mug, hand moving in circles as his eyes watch the brown liquid move around. You weren’t sure what you expected Rafe to be like, but you were sure this wasn’t it. From what Sarah had described you expected someone loud, boisterous and irritating. Someone who would laugh at you not being able to find the glasses and walk away leaving you confused. Not someone who would pass you the glass you were desperately searching for and then offer you a coffee on top.

He looks up. Striking eyes meet yours and he smiles for the first time but it doesn’t reach the blue of his eyes, it stops somewhere just past the corners of his lips.

“How do you like the outer banks then?” He asks.

“Love it.” You beam, you laugh at the look Rafe shoots you, “No really! It’s so nice to be away from the city. This is what summer is supposed to be like, beaches and bonfires, not walking around busy streets.”

Rafe ponders your answer for a moment, “I guess. It’s just hard, when you’re used to it it gets kind of boring and repetitive.”

“Well, maybe you should find some new hobbies then.” You smile.

Rafe let’s out a chuckle, it’s dry and seems forced, “Yeah, maybe I should. Well, if you get bored hanging around the Pogues, come find me and I’ll show you how a summer should be spent.” He shoots you a wink and exits the kitchen. That, you think, is more the Rafe you were expecting.

——

“You’re not going to go, are you?” Sarah inquiries for the second time.

You’d just finished telling her about your morning meeting with Rafe and she’s been adamant you shouldn’t hang out with him. Not that you were planning to in the first place, but now she had explicitly said you shouldn’t, you kind of wanted to.

You refrain from rolling your eyes, “No Sarah. I came here to hang out with you, not your brother.”

Sarah smiles, happy with your answer she links her arm through yours like she had the day before. You both had beach bags slung over your shoulders as you made your way towards the golden sea of sand.

The rest of the group were already on the beach. John B and Kie were digging around in the cool box looking for beers while JJ was building a sandcastle around Popes legs.

You liked the beach and you liked Sarah’s friends but you found yourself growing bored quickly. It was too hot to lay around in the sun and you had never been a fan of the ocean so refused the offers of learning to surf. Even if you liked the water you didn’t imagine you’d be any good, your balance definitely comparable to bambi on ice.

Sarah was attached to her boyfriend at the hip, you didn’t blame her, she’s young and in love but it wasn’t very fun for you. You wished you’d brought a book or your headphones with you. It wasn’t until Kie mentioned a party that you perked up a bit, a party, that was definitely more your scene.

“Where?” You ask leaning up on your elbows on the towel.

“On the beach of course,” Kie holds a beer out towards you, “Pre drinks?” She grins waving it around.

You take the can from her and crack it open, trying to plan out your outfit in your head. Usually you’d wear a dress and heels to a party, but you didn’t expect that would be the best attire for a beach party. It was probably more of an occasion for shorts, a tank top and sandals.

——

The beach was crowded by the time you got there, a lot busier than you expected it to be. You were more than shocked when you noticed Rafe and what you guessed were his friends while you were getting your second drink. You hadn’t expected him to attend a party on this side of the beach, seeing his apparent hatred for the pogues.

He catches your eyes and sends you a nod before turning back to his conversation and you can’t help the small smile that appears on your face. Rafe didn’t seem like the dick Sarah had made him out to be and you were glad to have another friendly face around.

You were in your own world, dancing around with your fifth beer in hand when an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You spin, glad the arm was tight around you or you would have toppled over. Rafe is stood smiling down at you, you could tell from his eyes he’d drank a fair bit but he didn’t seem too intoxicated.

“Still having fun pogueing around?” He asks.

You should shrug his arm away from you but you find you enjoy the weight of it against you and lean into him more.

“I guess,” your fingers play with the red cup in your hand, “I mean, there’s nothing else to do, is there?” You half tease.

Rafe can sense your playful tone and matches it with a smirk, “I’ve already said I’ll show you a good time.”

“Sarah would kill me if I went running off with you,” you admit, leaving the part about wanting to anyway unsaid.

“Well, when she’s not looking you know where to find me.” He smirks, letting his fingers linger on your shoulder for a second longer before he sauntered away back into the throng of drunk party goers.

——

It was a week later when you finally took Rafe up on his offer, after you had promised Sarah the only reason you didn’t want to go out on the boat was because it had made you sea sick the day before. She’d pouted but eventually agreed on going without you. Rafe offered for you to join him and his friends at the golf course. Golf was definitely not your thing, but when you options were that or spend the day in the house alone and hope you don’t bump into ward, you chose the former.

“I thought you were going to show me how a summer should be spent.” You complain as you lean against one of Rafes golf club watching him and his friends line up for the seventeenth hole.

“This is how a summer should be spent.” Rafe comments, raising his beer into the air, “Beer, sun and golf.” He nods.

“Well, it’s not my ideal summer.” You sigh watching Toppers ball fly across the green.

“So what’s your ideal summer?” Kelce asks as he lines up his ball.

Kelce was definitely your favourite out of Rafes two close friends. You liked Topper well enough, but there was something about him you weren’t too sure about. Kelce on the other hand was a lot more pleasant than you expected him to be, he was friends with Rafe after all. But he’d made you feel welcome the minute you got to the golf course, even trying to teach you how to play.

“Adventure.” You state with a nod of your head, “I’m in a new place, I want to look around. Find new cool things, not wander around a field.”

Kelce chuckles as he hits his ball off the tee, “I wouldn’t call it a field.”

“You want adventure?” Rafe questions pointing at you with his club as he walks up to take his shot, “I’ll give you adventure.”

They finish the last two holes and then Rafe is dragging you out of the club house and towards his truck. He drives back to his house, swapping his truck for the bike you had seen him cleaning last week.

“You want me to get on that?” You ask with a raised brow.

“You want adventure but you won’t get on a bike?” Rafe laughs holding his helmet out to you.

“Adventure won’t kill me.” You roll your eyes but sigh and accept the helmet.

The bike was not as bad as you expected it to be. Rafe drove somewhat sensibly, you expect it had everything to do with you being on the back. It wasn’t until you were out on a dirt path that he started pulling the bike up to ride solely on the rear wheel and you found yourself clinging onto the boy for dear life.

“Rafe!” You scream, fists clutching at the front of his blue polo shirt, “Stop!” You squeeze your eyes shut as the boy just laughs.

Finally he stops the bike and you jump off, ripping the helmet off your head and throwing it at the laughing boy, “Are you actively trying to kill me?”

“Yeah, I bring all the girls out here to kill and bury them.” He chuckles and puts the stand down on the bike before climbing off.

“Right, I don’t doubt you do.” You turn around, arms crossed over your chest, “Where are we?”

You walk towards what seems to be the edge of a cliff, looking down you can see the waves crashing angrily against the rocks below.

“This is the best spot to come when you want to be alone,” Rafe appears behind you, you can tell what he really means is this is where he comes when he wants to be alone, “No one comes up here and there’s no phone signal.”

“The perfect place to hide a body.” You smirk over at him.

“Exactly, or the perfect place to learn to ride.” He grabs your hips and turns you back towards the bike, pushing you towards it.

“Wait, what?” You ask looking back at him over your shoulder, “Here? What if I fall off the edge?”

“Don’t drive towards the edge.” Rafe laughs as though it’s obvious and you suppose it is, “C’mon, sit.” Rafe pats the seat of the bike.

You debate with yourself whether you should get on the bike or not, you’d never even learnt to drive a car let alone a bike, so you knew you probably shouldn’t. But for some reason although you barely knew Rafe you trusted him. So you climb onto the bike, gladly accepting the helmet he offered to you again and pushing it down onto your head.

Rafe shows you the ignition and the controls you need to move it and to brake. You start off slow, conscious about falling off and breaking your neck. Rafe followed behind you like a parent teaching their child to ride a tricycle for the first time. Slowly you began to build speed, but nowhere near as fast as Rafe was driving and you definitely were not going to be pulling any wheelies. Rafe stands to the side, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you ride up and down the small path.

You stopped the bike next to the boy, pulling the helmet from your head with a large grin plastered across your face.

“That was amazing!” You comment, letting Rafe put the stand down so you can climb off, “I’m not saying I’d want to ride one all over the place, but up here where no one else is was really fun.”

“And you didn’t fall off the edge!” Rafe comments in a congratulatory tone causing you to laugh.

You sit down beside Rafe on one of the large rocks near the cliff edge, you hadn’t realised how long you had been out with the boy but the sky was beginning to turn orange as the sun set for the night. The view was breathtaking and you hadn’t noticed it while you had been riding.

“I can see why you like it up here.” You murmur, eyes fixed on the point where the sky meets the ocean, the orange of the sky reflecting off the sparkling waters.

“My father taught me how to ride up here.” Rafe admits, Sarah had told you all about Rafe and Wards relationship and in all honesty you felt sorry for him. You couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to strive to meet perfection for someone who doesn’t give you a second glance. Although it doesn’t excuse the things Rafe does, it at least gives you some understanding as to why he does them. He’s crying out for the attention he craves and for some unknown reason you want to give it to him.

You don’t reply. Instead you reach out and rest your hand on top of his letting the silence speak for you.

----

“Are you coming with me today or are you hanging out with Rafe again?” Sarah teases you, you were worried that she was going to be upset with you but the girl seemed more amused than anything.

She was already home when you got back past dark with Rafe and she had grilled you for the details of your day. She’d informed you that Rafe wouldn’t be like that with just anyone and that he must have a crush on you. But you’d just laughed her off, telling her he’s not the person she thinks he is. You knew siblings usually had some kind of rivalry, and seeing how much nicer Ward was to Sarah than Rafe you weren’t really surprised he acted hostile towards his younger sister.

“I don’t know, I don’t know if Rafe even wants to hang out with me again.” You shrug following your friend into the living room.

“Well you’re more than welcome to come with me, but Rafe’s usually out by now and he’s still lingering around.” She nods towards the back doors where you can see Rafe through the glass.

He’s sitting on one of the garden chairs, leg bouncing as he taps against the arm of the chair. Sarah gives you a little push towards the doors and you soon find yourself walking through them, face lighting up as Rafe notices you and smiles.

“Hey.” He stops tapping and sits up straighter.

“Hey.” You reply, you stand in front of him semi awkwardly, what if he hadn’t been waiting for you and had in fact just been enjoying sitting in his backyard in the morning sun.

“Do you have plans today?” He asks, you think he sounds a bit hopeful.

“I’m not sure...Sarah said I can go with her, but she seems more adamant I should hang out with you.” You both turn to see Sarah through the window trying her best to look like she’s not watching the interaction, “Maybe she doesn’t like me.”

Rafe chuckles, “Or maybe she just wants me to hang out with someone other than my bone head friends,” He chews on his lower lip, “I know somewhere we can go, if you want.”

That somewhere turned out to be a shaded woody area with a stream running through it. A stark contrast to the beach you had been to multiple times in the last week you’d been here. But you liked it, the shade was a welcome break from the sun and the sound of the water gently flowing over the rocks was calming.

Rafe stops walking beside a large tree, pointing with a smile towards a badly carved ‘R’ in the bark, “I think I was about eight when I did that.”

You smile and trace the letter with your finger. You weren’t sure if it was a conscious decision by Rafe to bring you to places that meant something to him, but you were glad that he was. It meant more than just taking you to random touristy destinations and it felt like you could peek a little more inside of him with each trip.

Rafe tugs on a piece of rope hanging from one of the branches, it was frayed at the end and looked like it had seen much better days. But after Rafe had tugged on it a couple of times and deemed it safe he offered it over to you. You laugh and accept the rope, giving it a tug of your own as you look up to where it was tied around the tree.

“It’s safe, tyed it myself.” Rafe comments as he watches you.

“When you were eight?” You shake your head when Rafe nods, “If I fall in you better run.”

You prepare yourself for a wet landing but miraculously the rope doesn’t break and you make it to the other side of the river in one piece and completely dry. You throw the rope back over to Rafe and he soon joins you on the other side.

“What if we come back and the rope’s snapped?” You ask watching the rope slowly swinging back and forth over the water.

Rafe watches too for a moment before tugging your arm to follow him, “You get wet.” he states.

You let Rafe guide you through the trees, the river never far from your left side as you make your way deeper into the woods. You find yourself grabbing onto Rafe’s arm as you climb over roots and fallen branches, sure no one ever came down here.

“Is this your second favourite place to hide bodies?” You ask with a laugh as you duck under a low branch.

Rafe hums, “No bodies here,” He replies, “Actually, I haven’t been here in years. I kind of forgot about this place until I was thinking about places to take you.”

“You were thinking about places to take me.” You ask, a small fluttering feeling creeping into your stomach.

“I promised you adventures, didn’t I?” He looks back at you with a smile.

You nod quickly, “You did,” You agree, “I look forward to more, then.”

Rafe led you the rest of the way in comfortable silence, both of you enjoying the calming sounds of nature instead of forcing a conversation about something meaningless. You stop beside Rafe when the river pools out into a small lake beside a cliff, water cascading down the side of the rocks.

“Wow,” you gaze across the water, “How have you found the nicest places?” You step in front of him, walking along the edge of the water towards the waterfall.

Rafe follows behind, “I spent a lot of time exploring when I was younger,” He tells you, “I could come here and be anything I wanted.”

“It’s amazing.” You state, “I wish we had places like this back home. We just have busy streets and over crowded parks.”

“C’mon.” Rafe hurries in front of you, grabbing your hand on his way past.

He helps you climb over the rocks towards the waterfall, both of you getting completely soaked as you pass under it, but even in the shade the weather was hot and sticky so you really didn’t mind. Behind the falling water you find a small cave, you weren’t sure if it was big enough to even be called a cave, but you had no other name for it. The stone inside the cave was dry and you let Rafe pull you to sit inside it.

“I used to come here when I was in trouble. No one could ever find me.” He laughs.

“I guess no one would think to look for you behind a waterfall.” You grin, “I wouldn’t. How did you even find this place back here?”

“Like I said, I used to do a lot of exploring.” Rafe shrugs as he moves forward and sticks his hand into the water. “I like listening to the water.”

“You can close your eyes and imagine you’re anywhere,” You comment, letting your eyes fall shut but you soon open them again, “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, though.”

Rafe looks at you over his shoulder, a smile gracing his lips and you couldn’t help but think this one was real. Unlike that first day, this one reached his eyes setting his whole face alight with pure happiness. You like it. You like his smile and you like being the one to put it there.

You spend most of the morning sitting behind the waterfall talking about anything you can think of. Most of it mundane small talk but some of it deeper. You tell Rafe about a few things from your childhood, seeing as he’d shared a couple of his own. Then as it drew closer to lunch time he took you to a diner on the edge of town which mostly sold various breakfast foods.

You knew you had asked Rafe for adventure, but you decided you would be happy doing absolutely nothing as long as he was in your company. You liked his company and you hoped he liked yours enough to spend most of the summer with you.

----

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” You ask letting Rafe lead you towards a large stone building.

“Do you not have surprises where you come from?” Rafe teases, “I’ll explain, if I tell you, it kind of ruins the whole thing.”

You roll your eyes and slap his arm playfully. Rafe had told you to be ready by midday and to wear something nice. So you’d picked out a red summer dress and actually bothered with your hair and make up for the first time during your trip. As you got closer to the building you saw a sign which read ‘Wine Tasting.” and quickly tugged on Rafe’s arm.

“We aren’t even old enough to drink!” You hissed but he just shushed you and entered the building.

The waiter didn’t seem to bat an eyelid at the fact that you were both clearly only late teens and not over 21. He greeted Rafe by name and led you both over to a table on the balcony. The table was already set up with multiple glasses of various wines and you raised your brows at Rafe.

“How do they just let you in?” You ask in a hushed voice.

Rafe simply shrugs, “Perks of being a Cameron.” He grins and hands a glass over to you, “I’ve tried them all before.”

“I can’t try all of these, I’ll be drunk before one!” You laugh but take the glass from him.

“You’re not actually supposed to drink them.” He comments.

“You think I’m not going to drink them?” You raise one brow at him and bring the wine to your lips. It was a rose and it tasted much sweeter than you usually liked but still you swallowed it, “If there’s wine, I’m drinking it.”

Rafe laughs, shaking his head in amusement as you finished the rest of the glass. You both tried every wine on the table, Rafe getting rid of the wine like you’re supposed to, you downing each glass and getting steadily more drunk as the afternoon drew closer.

“So, which was your favourite?” He asks.

You purse your lips, mulling over the question in your seriously tipsy state, “The dry white.” You finally decide.

Rafe nods at your choice and excuses himself from the table. While he’s gone you look out over the balcony, the view mostly fields and trees but it was picturesque in the summer sun. You hum contentedly to yourself before snapping your head back round at the sound of a bang on the table. Rafe stood with four bottles of wine in his hands, motioning for you to follow him.

“You brought four?” You laugh following him down the stairs and back towards the car.

“Yeah, now we get to drink the best one and get blissfully wine drunk.” You can’t help but think that is the best idea yet.

You soon find yourself sitting in Rafe’s backyard as Rafe had put it ‘blissfully wine drunk’. Two bottles had already been finished, Rafe currently working on the third while you had had more than enough for now. You were in that state of drunk where you still knew what was going on, but you were much more confident and comfortable. Your vision was slightly blurred around the edges and if you stood up you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk in a straight line. You knew you shouldn’t be this drunk this early in the day, but Rafe was making you laugh and you felt like your body was full of butterflies so you didn’t care what anyone else would think.

Soon after it had started to get dark and Rafe had attempted to make you grilled cheese - you’d ended up eating it burnt and you hadn’t tasted anything quite so bad in a while, but you had both laughed about it - you found yourself stumbling down towards the beach. Hand tight in Rafe’s half because you wanted to hold his hand, half to stop you face planting the floor.

Rafe had brought the last bottle of wine with you, he stood it in the sand between you as you flopped down into one of the dunes. Dusk was settling across the sky casting a dull but calming hue across the beach.

“I didn’t plan on getting this drunk,” Rafe comments as he pulls the bottle from the sand and takes a sip, “But I’m not complaining.” He offers the bottle to you and you take it, gulping down the liquid before placing it back in its hole.

“You’re a bad influence. I’ve never been drunk at lunch time before!” You point an accusatory finger in his direction.

“Well you’ve been missing out all this time.” Rafe swings his arm around your shoulders and you let him pull you against his side.

His touch is warm in the cool evening sea breeze and you lean into him. Rafe has the power to make you feel completely comfortable around him all the time. You’d never met someone like him before and were quite sure you never would again. He was a one off. One of a kind. Special. So when he kissed against your hair line you smiled and held him closer. He was too good to let go off, physically and mentally.

You tilt your head up, eyes lingering on his willing him to read your mind. And he does. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. It was short. A peck more than anything. It was nothing and everything all at the same time. You laid your head back against his shoulder, missing the smile spreading across Rafe’s lips.

----

You sit outside with Sarah, nursing your hangover with a strong coffee as the girl laughs at your self induced misfortune. You weren’t going to tell her about the kiss you and Rafe had shared the night before, honestly you weren’t sure yourself if it meant something to him or if it was just a result of too much to drink. But she’d asked, and you’d admitted it, and she hadn’t been annoyed like you'd expected. Actually, she seemed pretty excited, gushing over the details and letting out a little squeal after you finished.

“It would be so good if you dated my brother! He needs someone good in his life, and you actually look so cute together!” She taps her feet excitedly against the ground, “So what’s on the lovebirds agenda today?”

You open your mouth to tell her that actually you have no idea what you’re doing today. But you don’t get a chance to speak. Instead the table shakes violently as something heavy lands on it and then a second later both of you are covered in water.

Sarah screams and in your hungover state it takes you a second to process what had happened. You look up, glaring at a smiling Rafe hanging out of his bedroom window, it was more than a little unfair that the boy didn’t look the slightest bit affected by yesterday's drinking session.

“I’d move if I were you.” He calls down before another balloon full of water lands on the floor beside you.

Both you and Sarah bolt up from the table and out onto the grass, both dripping wet with angry scowls.

“Rafe you asshole!” Sarah calls up as she wrings her hair out, “I’m not staying here for this, it’s you he’s trying to get!” She points a finger at you before quickly running into the house.

You’re glad when you look up and Rafe is no longer at his window, but that relief quickly dies when he appears at the back door, a balloon already on its way over to you. You scream as it hits your arm, the cold water covering your body.

“This isn't funny Rafe!” You shout, running as another rubber bomb comes towards you, “I’m hungover and now look at me!”

But Rafe doesn’t care. You spend the next ten minutes running away from his assault, finally being able to defend yourself when you grab the hose and point it at him. By the time Rafe is out of balloons and he’s managed to wrestle the hose out of your hands both of you are dripping wet. Rafe’s hair is plastered against his forehead and covering his eyes, yours is hanging down like rats tails. You wring out your shirt, glaring still at the boy but it’s more playful now.

“And what exactly brought that on?” You huff letting go of your shirt.

Rafe shrugs, moving towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist, “I like hearing your laugh.” He answers pulling you closer.

He leans down, his lips finding yours in a wet kiss thanks to your fight. This kiss is longer, his lips pressed against yours firmer than the previous night. Now you knew that it wasn’t some drunken act and that Rafe had in fact wanted to kiss you, and this made you smile against his lips. This time, now you were sober, you could appreciate the moment more. Kissing Rafe was like something you had never felt before. It sounds cheesy to say you felt a spark, and you weren’t sure that’s how you would explain it. But you felt light, like the weight of everything was taken off you at least for a moment. And your body felt warm, like your blood had turned to honey and you felt cosy and safe.

You rest your head against his chest when you finally pull away, ignoring how uncomfortable his wet shirt felt against your cheek. And you stood there holding each other, wet in the morning sun for what felt like forever.

----

The next week is full of Rafe surprising you with something new each day. Sometimes it’s small like a day of baking - which you both suck at - and sometimes it’s big like a shopping trip to town where he treats you to new shoes and dinner. It’s also filled with a lot more kissing and a lot more cuddling. One day, when the weather is more miserable than usual summer days, you make a blanket fort in his bedroom and spend the day cuddling, eating marshmallows and watching cheesy movies on netflix. That was one of your favourite days. To block the world out and spend the day wrapped up in Rafe’s arms was how you wanted to spend every day for the rest of your lives. But that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy the other days too. The days when Rafe would plan someone special or take you to a meaningful place from his childhood. You knew that no matter what you were doing, if it was with Rafe, you’d enjoy it.

You sat on the deck of the boat, watching as Rafe dropped the anchor setting the boat in its place. The yacht was impressive, but Rafe could have taken you out on a rubber dingy and you still would have loved every second of it.

“Have you ever been jetskiing?” Rafe asks.

“You know I don’t really like the water, Rafe.” You sigh, standing up as he walks over to you and resting your hands against his chest.

“I know, but I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s like riding the bike but bumpier.” Rafe presses a kiss against your forehead, “Do you want to try it? We can come straight back on the boat if you don’t like it.”

You sigh, looking up at his hopeful eyes and you find you just can’t say no to the boy. So you smile and nod your head once, “But if I call in you have to come save me!”

Rafe promises to follow right behind you and helps you get geared up in a life jacket, which made you feel a little better about the coming experience.

It took a couple of minutes for you to get used to sitting on the jet ski before you even moved anywhere and Rafe sat patiently beside you. He held your hand, brushing his thumb across your skin until you announced you were ready to try.

Rafe was right when he said it was like riding a bike and you were glad he had shown you that first. You didn’t dare go very fast, but you still had fun riding around in slow circles. You soon felt comfortable on your own and Rafe sped off, showing off and throwing himself at waves.

He was soaking wet when he appeared back beside you, a grin on his face as he pulled up next to you.

“Show off.” You comment with a giggle.

“Had to give you a show baby.” He leans over and presses his lips against yours.

——

That evening Rafe bundled you into his truck with a duffle back and an armful of blankets. No matter how many times you asked where you were going he refused to tell you. So I’m the end you shut up and turned to stare out of the window watching the town fly by and turn into fields and trees.

Finally he pulls up in the middle of nowhere, grabbing the things from the back and jumping out of the car. You follow after him, noticing a tent set up in a clearing, a faint orange glow coming from inside of it.

“We’re camping?” You grin hurrying ahead of him to check it out.

Inside the tent was fairy lights strung along the room, some blankets and cushions already laid across the floor. It looked cozy and cute, you turned to him, hugging his side tightly.

“This is so cute! When did you set this up? I was with you all day.” You raise a brow at him before helping him set the extra blankets down.

“I got Topper to help out,” he shrugs before pulling you down into the tent beside him.

“I love it.” You grin and lean over pressing a kiss to his lips.

That night you lay stargazing until your eyes hurt and then you climbed inside the tent and curled up in Rafes arms. You talked, you laughed and you kissed. You slept with Rafe for the first time that night, it was slow and sweet and something you will remember forever.

You had never planned on falling so hard for the boy. Thinking this would be a summer fling to tell your friends about and that was it. But now you knew it was more than that. A lot more. You had never felt for anyone the way you felt for Rafe. When he was around you your world life up and your cheeks always hurt from smiling so much.

You couldn’t imagine not getting to see him and touch him every day but time moved too quickly and the end of summer reared its head.

The last night on the island you spent at the annual carnival. You had gone with Sarah, spending half of the night with her and her friends before disappearing off with Rafe.

You went on the Ferris wheel, ate sweets and hot dogs and got lost in the fun house. By the end of the night you felt sick from all the food and insanely happy.

“I’ll come visit you in a month or two, okay?” Rafe promises as you stand on the docks, tears slipping down your face.

You nod your head, letting him kiss you one last time, “Okay. I’ll call you every day.” You offer a smile, rubbing your wet cheeks before disappearing onto the ferry.

You sat on the deck, waving to Rafe until you could no longer see him through the crowds and you were sure he was gone.

You kept your promise of calling him everyday, chatting endlessly about anything you could think of. You loved talking to Rafe because nothing ever felt forced. He made you laugh and smile and e butterflies never went away when you thought about him.

It was the end of the month and you excitedly ripped into the letter addressed to you, expecting to see Sarah’s hand gushing to you about John B and asking you all sorts about your and Rafe. But it wasn’t Sarah’s neat hand you saw but something a little scruffier.

Y/N

      I don’t think I’ve ever written a letter before but I remember you saying how you liked them so I thought I would try.

I wanted to say thank you for giving me the best summer, I don’t remember the last time I felt so alive. Being around you is a feeling I want to keep forever, I can never get enough of talking to you, kissing you and hugging you. You make my world a better place and give me a reason to keep trying to be a better person. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me, you’ve helped me more than you can imagine.

I look forward to seeing you next month, I’m counting down the days until I can hold you again.

P.S. Sarah says hi, and that she knew this would happen all along.

                                            Love, Rafe x

[sophiashortcake]

— 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 🍰

“I GUESS I’M JUST A PLAY DATE TO YOU.”

previous ❀ next ❀ series masterlist

𝟏𝟑. y/n shouldn’t be allowed to drink

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: kicked out of her home with no place to go, y/n is forced to move into her family friend’s home, who coincidentally is also the family of tsukishima kei, the boy who denied her confession.

Kei knew he was shit at apologies.

His entire life, he never bothered to apologize. Sure, there were instances when he was a kid where his mother would scold him for playing too roughly with his brother and he would have to stubbornly mutter an, “I’m sorry.” Or sometimes he’d give a quick, “sorry” to Yamaguchi when he was being particularly snarky that day. But none of those were real apologies, none that would help him now. They couldn’t prepare him for when you walked through the door.

He heard the front door open from his bedroom, instantly knowing it was you from your soft footsteps. He had been sitting in his room, trying to think of what to say, but how do you apologize to someone who you unjustifiably called an attention whore who had daddy issues? (Kei cringed at the memory, realizing how much of a jackass he sounded.)

His hand hesitated when it reached the doorknob to walk out to you, what would he even say? He couldn’t even text you a proper apology (he’s pretty sure you blocked him anyway). Swallowing down his uncertainty, he turned the doorknob.

You had just reached the top of the stairs when he opened the door, your face instantly curling with irritation. Before he could even open his mouth, you marched to your room, and slammed the door shut.

“Y/N, wait!” He called, running over to your room.

He went to open your door, instantly throwing out his ‘no entering each other’s rooms’ policy, only to find it already locked.

“Y/N, open the door please-”

Your door flew open, your expression eerily bright.

“Oh? Are you here to call me an attention whore again?” You chirped. “Maybe you can grade my daddy issues!”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, I was just being a jackass-”

“Y’know, Kei? That seems to happen alot with you…” You hummed in fake thought, “have you ever considered, maybe you just actually are a jackass?”

“Y/N-”

“Kids! Akiteru’s home! Come downstairs!” His mother called from the kitchen.

“Go fuck yourself, Kei,” you snapped, before heading downstairs.

That couldn’t have gone any worse.

At dinner, nobody could have guessed you were angry at all. You wore a cheerful smile, getting along with everybody with your animated conversation, well, besides him. You had ignored him all dinner, barely even sparing him a glance.

“Oh, I have something!” His brother said, before running into the kitchen. He came back and presented a bottle of sake. “I thought I would bring something home.”

“Akiteru, just because you’re the drinking age now doesn’t mean you can drink at dinner,” his mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, just let him pour us a glass, this is a special dinner since we barely see him anymore,” his father said.

“Pour the kids a glass too while you’re at it. Hayami, if you’re okay with Y/N drinking, that is,” he added.

“A small glass won’t hurt, we’re in the house anyway,” Hayami shrugged.

Akiteru fetched some glasses from the kitchen, pouring out small amounts and passing them along the table. He took a sip, ignoring the burn in his throat as he swallowed it down.

You took a small sip before coughing, patting your chest as you retched.

“Don’t tell me I raised a lightweight,” Hayami joked, poking your side. You fumed as she giggled.

The rest of dinner passed by the same, you continued to ignore him, making him lose hope you’d ever forgive him. As time went, he took notice how your cheeks started to flush, your swaying in your seat, and your higher pitched voice. You weren’t actually a lightweight, were you?

“So Y/N, how’s Kei at school? I wanna hear all about it,” Akiteru teased. Kei shot him a glare which Akiteru stuck his tongue out at.

“Kei is actually an asshole,” you slurred. “He’s rude, condescending, and I’m not sure why I ever liked him.”

The table stilled.

Oh no.

Hayami choked on her drink, his mother gasped, his father awkwardly sipped from his glass, and Akiteru’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Kei never wanted somebody to put him out of his misery more than he did now. Kei prayed to every god there was that this wasn’t actually happening, but there was a good chance this was karma, and God was actually laughing at him instead.

“Y/N!” Akane gasped, “you like Kei?” His mother was too meddling for her own good.

“Liked,” you clarified, “up until I confessed and he decided to grade my letter instead, in case you didn’t know, I failed with a D-!”

“Kei! I raised you better than this!” His mother hissed before turning back to you, “when was this?”

“The day we moved in. Imagine my surprise when I found out that day I was gonna move in with the guy who rejected me!” You dramatically whined.

Kei debated if he could stab himself with his pair of chopsticks.

“You graded her letter?” Akiteru replied, “What kind of asshole does that?”

“Thank you!” you sang, “y’know, I think you’re my favorite Tsukishima brother.”

“So Kei, why’d you grade her letter, huh?” Akiteru asked, turning the attention to him.

“I- Uh- Well I didn’t know her…”

“You could’ve just said no,” Akiteru deadpanned.

“He did it because he’s a jerk!” You exclaimed, your face in a pout.

“I know it had a few grammar mistakes and all but it’s the thought that counts!” You whined, tears starting to bubble in your eyes.

Not only were you drunk, you were a crying drunk.

“I think Y/N is done for tonight,” his mother chimed, “Kei, could you take her to her room and make sure she gets to bed?”

His shot Hayami a mischievous grin that Hayami grimaced to (and one that he nor Y/N picked up on).

Kei wanted to decline, but with the way everyone was staring at him, he decided it’d just be better to agree and get it over with.

“Alright,” he sighed, making his way over to your swaying form. He tried to throw your arm over his shoulder, but you wiggled free.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” You protested.

“Y/N, could you please just-”

“No!” You barked.

He tried again, to no avail.

“Okay, you know what?” He muttered, growing irritated. In one fell swoop, he picked you up bridal style.

“Let me down!” You whined.

“When we get to your room, I will.”

You glared at him, but stopped trying to fight your way free. He exhaled in relief, and made his way to the staircase.

When you two were out of earshot, his mother leaned over to Hayami.

“I was thinking of a spring wedding,” she whispered.

“Akane!”

Making your way to your room was quiet since you decided to stop fighting, you even wrapped your arms around his neck to avoid falling.

“You’re a real jerk,” you mumbled, your face buried in his neck, not brave enough to meet his eyes.

“I know,” he replied, nudging open your door.

He made sure to carefully place you down into your bed, as you already began to curl up.

“Cold,” you muttered.

“What? Do you want me to tuck you in too?” He quipped sarcastically. “Was carrying you to bed not enough?”

“Hmph!”

“Fine, fine, brat,” he replied, pulling your covers over you as you pulled it up to hide your face.

Poking your eyes up from the covers, “are you really sorry?”

“I am,” he muttered, “you didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry I said what I did today, I really am.”

You yawned, “I believe you.”

“Wait, you do?”

You had already closed your eyes though, beginning to drift off.

He chuckled, of course you would fall asleep before he could ask more.

He made his way out to the door, turning back to you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: y/n still keeps the letter in her stationary box in her desk.

𝐚/𝐧: i literally rewrote this chapter five times before i posted it 😡 but i hope you guys are aboard the kei train now, he ain’t a bitch all the time!! well most of the time anyway teehee

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