#i look in his eyes and know that if he could comprehend language and slurs he would use them

[yawntu]

Okie your right bestie now that your ask box is open you have to do the avatar guys reacting to spicy body piercings. Neteyam, Roxto, Ao’nung and Lo’ak I AM BEGGING YOU

/)/) ( . .) ( づ♡

a/n: Head so empty had to get this out though bc two other people agreed tongue ring was chefs kiss. We have a bunch of ancient cultures who pierced their tongues ritualistically so the Na’vi probably do it

Pairing(s): Ao’nung x reader, Neteyam x reader, Roxto x reader, Lo’ak x reader

word count: Little under or ~1k for each character

warnings: NSFW / MDNI, Characters are 18+, Spice under the cut, all characters are 18+, proceed with caution. Descriptions of sexual activity, Alludes to fallacio, Sexual situations, Vulgar language. Inspecting? They’re looking inside your mouth idk. Spit kink (Neteyam), idk man if there’s something i miss lmk

꧁ Aonung: is no stranger to bodily modifications. He can confidently say he did not love the feeling of being tattooed the way some of his aunties and uncles would swear they did. He didn’t brag that he could fall asleep though the pain of ink being malleted security into his thick skin. Which is why for a second Aonung cannot seem to comprehend how his squirmy little girlfriend could have sat through such an ordeal, cringing at the pang of jealously that rises in him at the idea that others would have the same foul thoughts regarding the adornment that he has.

One of his favorite places to be is the netted hammock that sways outside of his marui. He enjoys the cooling sea breeze through his downed hair while watching the waves dance in the wind. Mindlessly keeping an eye out for anything that may intrigue him. It was undoubtably a good place to be whenever he found himself to be stressed or tired. Even better- it was a peaceful place to relax with you. He can agree to himself that he liked this spot even better when your legs straddled his waist and he got to rub loving circles onto your body with the pads of this thumbs while you joined in on his sea gazing. Its only when you shift on his torso that he realities thoughts had wondered past the words you were speaking. It was not often that you would loose his devoted focus, however, he realized he was not really listening to you as you spoke. Not in a cruel or inattentive way way. He did not mean to disregard you. He was just too distracted at the soft slur you give off. That was different. He has spent so long grasping at every word you said- every noise to fall from your perfect mouth. So he knows that there is something wrong.

“You break a tooth?”

He knows he is rude for cutting you off and even ruder for jostling you up as he sits up slightly in worry. Evident concern that you had fallen or bit into something and broken a tooth and that is where the slur of your words came from. That you were in pain. Though it had been some time since the incident, he remembered when Tsireya’s best friend had faced a similar ailment and his mother had been forced to pull the tooth from her skull. He shuddered remembering the ordeal, and hoped you would not go though the same pain.

“Nuh-uh,” you assure rubbing a hand against his soft cheek, eyes softening in endearment at his worry.

Your sweet boy is sitting up further to move closer to you in query when you greet him with the sight of your pretty wet tongue sticking out past your soft lips. The prettiest adornment nestled on your tongue makes his lower stomach twitch. You can’t help but pull yourself back a bit in surprise at the sight of his imposing form sitting up quicker then you expect him to. The natural reflex of your body as he adjusts your position in the hammock you were both meant to be napping on. Your movement only results in his thick calloused palms making a firm grasp for your cheeks, holding your face steadily in front of him for his viewing pleasure,

“Open your mouth.”

He’s bossy, and for a second you worry he absolutely hates it and will instruct you to remove it once you give into his demand. The thought alone is what keeps you from listening to him quick enough for his liking. Which is probably why once your lips finally start to part again his pointer finger is quick to hook over your lower teeth, pulling your jaw open so he could inspect you once again. Not giving you a choice in closing your mouth once again.

All you can do is peer down at his inquisitive eyes that seem to be judging the very ivory of your teeth and whine at how intently he is staring down your welcoming throat. He does not mean to look so incredulous as he inspects your wet mouth. Your tongue is swollen and the intrusion of his long finger has your salivary glands working overtime coating the little ball in you saliva. You look perfect on his lap, spitting all over his finger as it hooks your jaw wide open for him. He only removes the binding finger from your mouth when he inquires,

“Who touched you?”

You’re confused for a second, not realizing he means the piercing until the pad of his finger caresses the tip of your tongue careful to avoid the sore center. He can’t help but wonder what burly large man had touched your pretty fleshy tongue that belonged to him. He feels terribly for the anger that bubbles at the thought of said man getting to see you sat obediently, mouth open and waiting. He could only imagine what thoughts they had as your big pretty eyes stared at them while they made a new hole in your body. As if you mean to scorn him you only giggle. You giggle at his jealousy, and though it should vex him more he can’t help but feel soothed at your reaction,

“Your mo’ther,” you giggle and the material clinks against your teeth, and you slur over a too long bar that accommodated for the swelling.

It soothes him a little. His mother- your mother- had pierced you and not one of the men he had known with said job. Now the only issue at hand was the fact that he was sure other men would see it and have the same first thought that had crossed his own mind.

“It was for Eywa,”

The holy name cuts him from his unholy thoughts. He instantly meets your words with his objurgate simper that you’re used to. A unique expression that conveyed a playful scold that he knew was sure to leave you putty in his hands.

“Nah, you know better. That’s there for me,”

His words make your face flush a pretty shade of plum and you find it increasingly hard to look up at him. It’s endearing to him really, your cheek warm against his open palm. He runs the finger covered in your spit against your bottom lip,

“Ya, can’t wait till it heals. Gonna feel real good when you gag on my cock, huh tìhona?”

꧁ Neteyam doesn’t really care what you do to your own body. It’s your own body; how could he possibly tell you what to do with it. Besides the fact that he thinks it was cute how brave you were for sitting though it, he can’t help but find the way you toy with it annoying. Neteyam still thinks it has its own unique charn though.

Neteyam is too aware. It’s probably why he struggles so much to relax. Something always draws his attention, and he can’t stop his brain's desire to hyper-fixate on it. For this reason Neteyam is well aware of your tongue ring. In your defense he was aware of the adornment from the beginning. He knows so much about it as he was there as the sharpened point was pushed through you outstretched tongue while his mother howled in laughter at the way your tail extended out in shock at the pain.

In all honesty, he has rarely caught a glimpse of the jewelry since you had done it. Despite your loud mouth, the jewelry stayed relatively hidden behind your ivory canines. he guesses you just don’t open your mouth that wide. It’s a shame he doesn’t get the luxury of just catching a flash of the adornment. Instead, he lays here on an old roll-out woven mat, basking in the warm sun with you draped across him. It should be a calming ordeal. Yet you preoccupied yourself with rolling your tongue ring across the ridges of your teeth with no regard for the safety of the bones.

This is supposed to be relaxing. That was the point of coming out here to nap away from the intrusions of your families and burdens of society. As much as laying with you is meant to calm his ever-increasing nerves the fact that the clank of your tongue piercing gliding across your teeth in some sort of stim is ever present and driving him up the wall.

“Cut it out,”

His voice comes with a bite to your fleshy cheek which makes your eyes blink open. You pass him a displeased glance from where you lay next to him.

“Why? Am I irritating?”

You ask him so sweetly that if he had not been so sleep deprived he would have assured you that you were perfect and nothing you could do would ever vex him,

“Very. I’ll rip that thing out of your mouth,”

You laugh because he sounds exactly like his mother, yet had the same scolding undertone his father had often taken on. He is almost pleased with you when he feels you roll over half onto him, thinking you had accepted defeat and would settle down for seep. Relishing in the feeling of you tossing one of your legs over his waist and propping yourself up on one elbow to quickly cuddle against him. His sweet purr as you run your fingers through his braids swiftly almost makes you feel bad for the fact that you lean down to run your wet muscle from the bottom of his jaw to the top of his cheek. It is almost scary how slowly his eyes open. He cannot even feign shock at the way you play with him and his dwindling patience. It is ridiculous- you are ridiculous. Yet you are still shocked (and delighted) at how quickly Neteyam is hooking his leg around yours and rolling the both of you over so your back presses firmly to the mat behind you in retaliation for your annoying actions.

“Does being a imp bring you satisfaction?” He asks, though there’s no indication of real annoyance.

You grin up at him so pretty too, he can’t help but appreciate your mouth. The plush of your soft lips, and the shine of your ivory teeth,

“Undoubtably!” you chip,

And then his thumb runs across your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly so he can look at the red of your gums.

“Open your mouth, annoying girl.” he huffs down at you.

Though you intend to listen to him he does not give you the time too. Squeezing your cheeks between his freed palm until you have no choice but to part your lips for him. With your leg wrapped around his waist your foot rests on the small of his back and you can feel the muscles of his lower back flex as his tail flicks between his legs in excitement at the sight. As you loll your berry-fleshed tongue out for him he wastes no time in returning the crude indecency of your previous actions to you. You’re not dumbfounded when his spit lands on your waiting tongue, but you do jerk under him with a huff. Nonetheless, you are so good for him still, waiting for him to smile and give you a slurred go-ahead before you swallow.

Neteyam guesses he likes the stupid thing. Gives him something to aim at.

꧁ Roxto is shy. Not with normal people. But when you speak to him so pretty him he can’t help but tense up at the way his mind wanders. Especially as you sit there blabbering about your home in the jungle, she should be listening but he’s too busy eying the piercing in your tongue and wondering what it would feel like on him.

Rotxo is sweet. So sweet that he feels terrible for the way he stares at your mouth from where he is lent opposite on a thick mangrove root while you speak. Chirping away at him because you had grown the closest to him out of everyone after your arrival.

Don’t get him wrong. He could spend his whole day and whole night (and whole existence) with you. He liked nothing more than sitting pleasantly next to you or with his head on your lap while you spoke. He had been thankful for the fact that you had gotten the closest to him out of anyone you could have chosen when your family arrived at his home. He truly thought you were the most interesting person he had ever met. Perhaps that is why he watches you so intently. As if he is worried he will miss even a fraction of what you had to offer. He felt like he had known a decent amount about you. Knew you well enough that he could predict what you would say before you had even said it. Which is probably why he is so eager to get his question out.

“What is in your mouth?”

He just faces the nalutsa head-on. Blurts his question out; almost cutting your sentence off early. Once your eyes snap up to meet his from where you picked at stones on the ground. Your tongue is rolling out of your mouth in response as you stand to face him,

“This?”

Of course you sound silly as you talk around your tongue, but Rotxo is just looking at the modification. His first question is did it hurt, and you gave him a deadpan ‘obviously’. Despite this, you seem to be far more interested in this line of questioning than you had been while you were rambling. Ears are drawn forward in his direction, arms behind your back while your tail twirled behind you.

When he asks why you would do such a thing (despite having tattoos himself) you tell him it was a thing some of the more spiritual people of your clan would do. He could not help but feel a little guilty at the fact that all he can think about is how it would feel twirling around the head of his cock. How pretty you would look sitting on your knees with your tongue out waiting for him to paint the shiny little adornment white. He doesn’t even realize that his eyes are trained down on you, and his tail sways between his legs.

But you notice. You notice the way he relaxes on his arms more. How his pretty sea-foam green eyes relax as he maintains tantalizing eye contact. The fact that his ears are drawn back, his jaw is clenched and his tail thumps slightly against his own leg, dragging across the ground behind him would be evidence alone of where his thoughts had traveled to. The thick bulging at the brown fabric of his tweng however seals his fate. You giggle at him. If all it took to work him up was a flash of your tongue then you will surely be the death of him. He is not even listening to why you had done it, what it meant. Ignoring all talks of salvation so he could look down at you and think of what you could only fantasize about.

“Ya, but you do not really care why I got it, huh?”

Your question catches him off guard, mostly because you are right and he’s too busy thinking about you to notice that you had once again begun to ramble. He is terrifyingly intrigued when your moving to stand right in front of him, head cocked up curiously at him, an amorous smirk on your lips.

“You just care about what I can do with it.”

Like the tease you are, you glance down at his hips. It is only then he realizes how tight the confines of his bottoms had gotten.

“You really are a devil huh?” His fingers are digging into the bark of the root he leans on as he huffs out the only thing he could think to say. He supposes there was no honor in hiding anything now- to bashfully try and defend the situation. That pretty tongue of yours sliding past your teeth to lick across your lips,

“If you want a vrrtep I can show you a vrrtep,”

Your voice is charmingly playful, and he can hear the click of the ring against a tooth. As your fingers dance across his lower stomach you’ve all but convinced him to be at your mercy with no effort. When you wordlessly drop to your knees before him he cant help the noise that ripples through his chest. Parts of him buckle at the idea of letting you be in charge and show him more of that pretty tongue ring but he can’t help but be honorable. Try to gain some sort of dominance. He thought he had gained the upper hand when at the contact of one of his big palms to the back of your head. The assumption was foolish of him. To think for a second he had the upper hand. The feeling of the cool material on your tongue sliding up his thigh has his fingers knotting in your hair and his breath coming out in huffs. He thinks it’s perfect- you’re perfect. He can’t wait to feel it everywhere.

꧁ Lo’ak doesn’t mean to not notice really, you were both so busy. You should take it as a compliment how hard he focuses on your eyes when you talk. But when he finally catches on that somethings different about you and you show him he can’t help but get too excited.

You were Lo’aks very best friend. In fact, you could not recall a point in life where he was not at your side while your gaggle of friends got into mischief. In all honestly you had spent your childhood following Lo’ak around like his shadow, and it is a habit that has followed you into your adulthood. You know he is plagued with an overabundance of energy and thus kept you entertained the best. Lo’ak was many things- emotionally aware, compassionate, charming, and with no effort made you feel alive. He’s probably why you were a bit of an adrenaline junky, and why you so eagerly agreed to the modification to your body after your Uniltaron. There was some reason behind the bleeding that you did not quite know if you cared about more then the fact that there was a cool piercing in your mouth.

Most importantly, you had hoped Lo’ak would have noticed the piercing quickly, however, the fact that Lo’aks own Uniltaron was the day before yours and he (like his father) had an intense experience, meant that you had uncharacteristically been apart for what you considered too long. Lo’ak had spent the days in which your tongue was at its most swollen (and thus noticeable) resting at home. Though you had been plagued with your own duties which made any meaningful interactions between Lo’ak and yourself non-existent since then. This meant that he just hasn’t noticed the new addition to a body he was rather familiar with. The lapse in time spent together was not something either of you had been used to, nor particularly fond of.

Which is why Lo’ak is blabbering to you wildly while you both eat your supper. You think he’s cute despite talking with his mouth full, and your dazed staring is what pulls Lo’ak out of his excitement and forces him to stare back at you. It is when he noticed you’re eating lighter than usual.

“Soup? It’s too warm for soup,” his tone indicates it’s an astute observation in his mind, “Are you sick?” He asks, reaching to touch your head. You snicker at him as you smack his lingering hand away,

“No, skxawng- you really hadn’t noticed?”

The playful faux sadness in your voice still barbs at his heart. It is quickly replaced with an indescribable feeling when you open your mouth for him and he’s greeted with a heart-stopping view. Eywa you were pretty, and for a second you looked like you could really be his- looking up right at him with your mouth wide open. It’s innocently possessive for a second, really he hadn’t thought too much into why he had reacted to the view in such a way. That was until he noticed the little ball perched on the center of your tongue. Like the little stones they found in the river mollusks they used as jewelry.

“Oh shit!”

His response makes you shut your mouth and snicker while your tail wags faster than you had been used to. You even turn your head in to avoid his ardent eyes. Though Lo’ak is quick to brace his hands on the wooden table to lean over and follow your gaze,

“I wasn’t done- hey,” and when he pinches your cheeks in his hand he almost knocks over your soup with the enthusiasm he exudes.

“You are acting like a fool,” your smiling half out of amusement, half out of pure inarticulate flabbergast at how quickly he had become interested in the orifice.

“Does it hurt?” He questions.

If it’s possible his smile grows larger at the shake of your head,

“Let me kiss you then,”

It leaves his mouth before you can even tell him how the pain has passed. It’s incredulous, how brazen Lo’aks words are considering his parents were barely out of earshot also enjoying their meal.

“Are you the one with a fever?”

Your voice crack is loud as you grip his wrist, and you make a note that you lean closer to him almost subconsciously.

“What? We have kissed quite a bit?”

In secret- in private- not when everyone you knew was right there, you were sure people presumed but you did not particularly feel the need to deal with the questioning eyes of either your families or your friends.

“You’re parents are right there, Lo’ak. I am not-” But his pretty wide smile cuts you off, and his tail swings down to snatch your swaying one

“We can go somewhere they’re not,”

There’s a snort in his voice like it’s the obvious answer. As though the both of you getting up and walking away together wouldn’t have drawn the same questioning gaze that kissing would have cast upon you, Eywa knows why you are dumb enough to nod at him. Quickly moving to stand up first, but pause when his tail stays wrapped right around yours halting your movement, and you look to him quizzically.

“You gotta wait a minute before we’re going anywhere,”

You’re confused. He was just so eager to be alone with you. How could he possibly be more interested in his previously abandoned meal? And how can he be chuckling at you- and why is the free arm he had propped on the table motioning towards the bench you both sat on and- oh. Thats why. The undeniable tent forming. A reminder why you so quickly agreed to be whisked away by him.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

“I can’t believe you let him do that to me”

- for your angst/hurt asks

Scapegoat (BAU x male!gay!reader)

Warnings: Homophobia, some slurs (f-slur), homophobic language, bad language overall.

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS WILL UPSET YOU

"(Y/N), I want you to interview him," Hotch said, "Alone." You falter, unsure of his orders.

"Hotch, do you really think that's a good idea?" Morgan cuts in before you could, ever the big brother figure.

"It'll be fine." He's quick to dismiss any worry, whilst normally that would be enough to dissolve your anxiety, your guy was telling you otherwise.

You nod slightly, trying to ignore the anxiety, you shoot Morgan what you hope is a reassuring smile before you head into the interrogation room. The Unsub, a man named Frank Carrington, looks you up and down with a smirk. You hold back a shiver as you slide into the seat in front of him.

"You must be a real expendable team member," Frank chuckles as he leans forward.

"Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"They put a fag in with someone who they suspect killed six of 'em." Your stomach drops at the slur and your glad your hands are under the table right now, because they're shaking.

"Did you?"

"Did I what?" The man huffs.

"Did you kill those men?"

"Why? Were they your special buddies?" Frank smirks, "They give you a real good time, huh?"

"Did you kill those men?"

"I ain't telling a fairy like you," He snorts, "Get me a real man and maybe I'll talk."

"Sounds like internalised homophobia to me," You quip, "Let me guess, you got jealous that these men had the balls to be out that jealousy turned to rage because you feel like you can never admit that you're gay."

"How fucking dare you-"

"How dare I what?"

"I ain't telling a faggot like you nothing!"

Despite your anxieties, and your thoughts racing, you manage to narrow your thoughts down to just getting a confession. And so, you tilt your head, "But Frank, can't you see? We're one in the same."

The lie leaves an acidic feeling in your throat, but it's what causing his downfall.

"I killed them because they're disgusting! They're sinners and I'm cleansing the world by getting rid of them! How dare you try and tell me I'm the same as you! How fucking dare you!" He shouts, slamming his heads against the table, smirking when you jump. "And while I'm in prison, you're going to be the one I fantasise killing. And when I get out? You're the first one I'm going after."

"Yeah, okay." You dismiss, leaving the interrogation room. You walk past Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. Morgan looks up from the file, seeing your face, his stomach drops and he catches up to you as you make your way to the bathroom.

"You okay?" He asked as you made your way over to the sink.

"Fine." You answer, turning on the tap, splashing cold water onto your face.

"What happened?"

"Don't want to talk about it." You mutter before drying you face and then hands with some paper towels.

Hotch approached you as you exited the bathroom, "(Y/N)-"

"I can't believe you let him say those things to me." The words slip out of your mouth before you can fully comprehend what you've said. You barely recognise the look of remorse that flashes through Hotch's eyes.

"(Y/N), I'm sorry-"

"You fucking stood there as he called me all those things! You did fuck all!" You shouted, not caring about the looks you were getting about the attention you were drawing to yourself.

"We had to, for the case-"

"I don't give a fuck about the case Hotch you didn't even warn me! I would have been fine if you told me the plan!" You exclaimed, "But you didn't and then just fucking watched!"

You miss the glare that Morgan shoots Hotch, instead you continue, because you've got a hell of a lot to say and right now you don't care that he's your boss. "I'm not just some fucking scapegoat for you to use for getting confessions." You snap. "Believe it or not, Hotch. I have feelings."

"(Y/N)-"

"You know what? Next someone starts throwing slurs, you fucking sit in the same room as them, see how you feel, yeah? And I'll tell you that it's fine because it's for the case. We'll see if that makes the words hurt less, yeah? Especially when someone you trust is on the other side of the mirror, someone you trusted would stop the interview if it got out of hand." You scoff, not giving him a chance to reply before leaving the room.

[konigs-whore]

Pub drama-Soap Mactavish

{Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, language}

~Soap accompanies you to a pub, where you're celebrating your friends birthday.

A/N: a friend req this so here we are. ( I feel like all I've done is Angsty fics, where the MC always gets in trouble. but that will change soon)

we gathered at a local pub for my friends birthday, we sit at a booth, eagerly awaiting the arrival of everyone. i stare at Soap, his fashionable ensemble – black jeans and a grey t-shirt. On the other hand, I have chosen to adorn a dainty black silk spaghetti strap dress with a subtle slit running up the side till reaching just beyond my hip. my wavy black hair tied into a messy bun atop my head. “hm, if i didn't know any better lass, i’d say you’re trying to seduce me” Soap says, barely loud enough to hear over the thundering music. 

i laugh, shaking my head. “You say that daily. i could be wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater and you would still ask that question". He chuckles, leaning back into the booth, never averting his eyes from my form. The dancing lights in the background illuminating his gaze and providing me with a captivating visage.

My heart is filled with joy as I look at the man I adore. "I love you, you goofball," I say with a grin, watching as he sends me a wink in response. I'm about to tease him some more when I notice my girls walking towards us. Quickly, I stand up and embrace the birthday girl, a huge smile on my face. “Happy birthday vinnie!” i all but shout in her ear. which is probably another reason me and Soap get along so well- we’re both loud. she giggles in response, hugging me.

she pulls away and almost instantly drags us to the bar, the other girls following close behind. “shots! seven trays please, none of these bitches are walking out sober”she shouts at the bartender, who laughs at her display. i roll my eyes, not entirely wanting to get drunk but heck it, Soap is with me. 

i cast a glance his way, noting how his eyes were already glued to me.I smile and give a swift twist of the head when the trays, carrying six shots each as well as the additional martini's my companion requested, are placed in front of us. “ to Vinnie!” we chant before taking the shots. i nearly cough from the burn, wiping my mouth of the alcohol dripping down my chin. i smile sheepishly at Vinnie, who laughs at me. 

four hours in and i can barely form a thought, dancing with Vinnie on the dance floor. the rest of the girls tapped out an hour ago, saying they felt the building spin in the universe. 

“hey, i gotta pee” Vinnie slurs, grabbing my hand and making for the ladies room. i wobbly follow behind, trying to focus on which foot goes next. We enter the bathroom and she hastily scurries towards the lavatory - I follow suit, bracing myself against the sink. She begins to chuckle from within the stall, evidently entertained by the comical drawing of a penis on the wall. I roll my eyes in response. i stare at myself in the mirror, my face slap red from the amount of alcohol, it’s almost laughable.

i hear a thud behind me, and turn around to see Vinnie stumble out of the stall, nearly falling face first into the sink. “girl, be careful” i scold lightly, like a mother would her child. she simply grins up at me, too drunk to comprehend my words. "Nyla, such a worry wort" she mumbles drunkenly.

after assisting her in washing her hands, we walk hand in hand out of the bathroom, and only then do i notice how far down the hall it is from the bar, from Soap.

the dim lights flicker in the hallway, giving an eerie feeling to my already uneasy mind. we make it about a quarter way down the hall when Vinnie's hand is suddenly yanked out of mine. i spin around, wobbling as i do so. to see a nasty looking man holding her by the neck and waist. my anger rises, “what the fuck!” i exclaim. i go to take a step forward, when arms creep around my waist, pulling me flush against what i can only assume is the body of a man. “hey hey, don't be harsh. we’re only looking for some fun” the man whispers in my ear, sending a chill down my spine.

where is Soap’s helicopter ass when i need him. i silently curse.

when i thrash in the mans hold, he grips me tighter, moving a hand to my mouth and my eyes widen in fear. I observed Vinnie as she forcefully kicked her assailant's legs, resulting in them losing their grasp on her; she bolted free. I chomp down hard on the man's hand which was covering my mouth, removing a segment of flesh.

He swiftly pulled back his arm, however shockingly kept his hold around my midsection firm, so intense that I couldn't break away. I glance in the direction of Vinnie and give my head a sorrowful shake, the fear evident in my eyes. "get Soap!" I shout, and she immediately takes off, running at such a pace that she disappears down the hallway quicker than a flash. okay, Soap will be here soon, i just need to distract them.

And i do just that-using the arms around my waist to my advantage, I thrust my legs up, sending a powerful kick to the chest of the man standing before me. He is thrown back, desperately trying to regain breath.

my head is suddenly yanked back, and view of my attacker is looming mere inches from my face. “ you’re a real bitch, huh”he grunts. slamming my face into the wall, i grunt as my face ignites with a flood of pain. he loosens his grip momentarily, giving me enough time to spin around, Before I could even think, my fist met his nose with a sickening crunch.

He crashed to the floor, clutching his face in pain. I can hear swift footfalls drawing nearer, so turning around to get a glimpse of the source, I behold an infuriated Soap accompanied by a weeping Vinnie. I found myself flashing an elated yet perhaps unnerving grin, considering the blood-stained corners of my mouth.

Soap comes to a halt inches from me, taking my face in his hands. “are you okay?” his tone is filled with worry, and controlled rage. i nod my head, smiling to reassure him. “yeah, though i’m pissed off, actually. how dare they touch Vinnie and me” I rant, turning around to send a last, swift kick into the ribs of the man behind me. Soap pulls me away gently as security runs up. “let’s get ya cleaned, ya? you look positively rabid bon” i laugh and agree. i grab Vinnie's hand, clutching tightly. 

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

bonus part-

all of 141 gathered around the watch the footage Soap took from the pub. he pressed play on the computer, watching with baited breath. he hears Gaz gasp behind him as they watch the man snatch Vinnie, then Nyla. Ghost squints and leans closer as Nyla raises her legs and kicks the other man, sending him flying into the opposite wall. Price whistles, a proud smirk on his face.

once the video finishes, Soap leans back in his chair, torn between feeling proud and absolutely livid.

"got yourself an mma fighter, huh" Gaz teases. Soap sends him a look, "the lass was piss drunk. I'm both amazed and terrified." Soap grumbles, crossing his arms. His eyes glancing at Ghost, who, has watched the video three times now. " are you sure there isn't something she's hiding from you? if she was as drunk as you say, her movements seem suspicious" Ghost says with caution.

Soap simply smiles and shakes his head, "known the lass since fourth grade, there's nothin' I don know about her"

Gaz sends a worried glance his way, "stalker much?" he adds, sounding slightly concerned.

Soap smiles, not confirming or denying it.

[squeakykid]

Day 7 (final day!!!) of Reddie Week, canon divergence. There are more chapters of this fic on AO3 if you're interested.

Eddie could still feel Richie's strong arms bundling him up as he shouted "Eddie! Get out of the way!" And then flipped himself on top of Eddie just in time for the claw to pierce entirely through Richie's stomach. It was a brutal, gory, death. It all happened too fast, so fast that it felt unreal. His head fogged over and he just stared. Richie's body was lifted in the air as if Pennywise was putting him proudly on display. ‘How did he know to push me out of the way?’ was all that was on Eddie's mind. Repeating over and over again. Bill ran over to Eddie and pulled him back into cover after he laid there, unmoving, covered in Richie's blood. Brave Richie. He always had to be brave. Eddie had his chance to be brave for Richie, to redeem himself, but he failed. Richie said Eddie was braver than he thought he was, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Eddie was a coward. He'd always been a coward. 

Richie was flung limply to the cave floor, but Eddie didn't even notice at first because he felt like his soul had left his body as soon as Richie was impaled. Like he was watching himself watch Richie from a bird's eye view. Like everything was just a fucked up dollhouse of horrors beyond comprehension. He was brought back to life by Richie's whimpers of "Eddie, Eddie, are you okay?" Eddie wanted to shout at him instantly. Hey dumbass! Worry about yourself for once! I'm fine! I'm totally completely fine, but you. Eddie was physically fine, but on the inside he was breaking. Shattering like glass that was only ever held together with scotch tape. The weak adhesive was never going to hold. 

Eddie went to his side. He looked at the wound and instantly knew it was hopeless. Richie was only still clinging onto life because death was resistant to take him. The grim reaper didn't want to put up with his annoying dick and your mom jokes. As Eddie held his jacket against Richie's wound to keep him with him as long as he could, he wished the grim reaper really wouldn't take him. That he'd leave him in Eddie's care because he was the only one that could really put up with Richie. He wanted to keep putting up with Richie's stupid jokes and hacky impressions forever. It was a gut punch to realize he wanted that at a time like this when, now, he had no realistic chance. 

"Is it bad?" Richie asked with a smile that reeked of fake optimism. 

"Yeah, pretty fucking bad, asshole." Eddie replied, still pressing hard against the wound. It was pointless. All it was doing was prolonging Richie's suffering. There was no saving him, Eddie knew that. He pressed hard anyway. "Why'd you do it?" He asked because he had to know. Why, Richie.

Richie just looked at him like he was speaking another language. "Why?" 

"Yeah." Eddie could feel the red rising in his eyes because what he said wasn't that hard to comprehend. "Why'd you do it, Rich? How'd you…how'd you know that I needed to move?" 

He shrugged lightly, seeming a bit drunk. "I just had a feeling something was gonna happen." 

"So, you got in front of it?" Eddie felt desperate.

Richie's words were starting to slur. "Didn't have a lot of time to think. Just knew I had to protect you." 

"Well, maybe you need to protect yourself, Richie!" Eddie snapped. He felt the color rising in his cheeks and noticed, in a hot panic, that he was starting to cry. 

Richie smiled loosely. "Tears? For little ole me, Eds?" 

"Shut up." Eddie spoke in quick puffs while he focused on keeping together the crumbling dam behind his eyes. He couldn't let himself break. 

Richie reached him with a weak hand and brushed the tears away. "Didn't know you cared so much." 

"Richie, you're being stupid. Can't you just stop being stupid for two minutes?" Eddie tried to catch his breath, but couldn't seem to get the breath to stay in his body. He felt himself reach for his inhaler, but of course it was gone. Wasted in a useless attempt to resist their fate. 

"Hey, hey, breathe," Richie put a grounding hand on Eddie's chest and took shallow breaths that seemed to hurt as he attempted to guide Eddie to breathe. And it was helping. Eddie hated himself for that. That he could let Richie help him even though he was the one that was dying. "There you go, that's better." Richie smiled at him.

"Don't be like that." Eddie reprimanded. 

"Like what?"

"Aren't you scared?" Eddie blurted out, tears flying from his eyes and spit from his mouth. 

"Nah," he said, but Eddie knew he was lying. "I got Dr. K right here to fix me up."

"I can't ‘fix you up’, Richie! What could I possibly do? I'm not a doctor, I'm a fucking risk analyst, and the chances that you're gonna die with those injuries are…" he trailed off. He knew Richie knew that with the sad way he kept smiling at him. 

There was a thick silence between them, full of words neither of them could seem to say. "I know." Richie said. "But I'd do it again if it meant you'd be okay." His voice was getting thinner and more distant. 

"Well, that's fucking stupid." He shouted, feeling the warm blood soaking fully through the jacket. "What if I didn't fucking want you to, huh? What if I don't want to live if it means you're gonna die?" Richie's eyes seemed to grow further and further away. "Answer me, Richie!" He screamed wildly. "Answer me!" Eddie shook him, beat on his chest, screamed, but he was gone. There was no more life in his eyes. Eddie took off his glasses, folded them, and put them in his back pocket. Then, he brought a reluctant hand up to Richie's cold, still, cheek. "You idiot." He whimpered as he looked around to make sure no one was looking and pressed a gentle kiss to Richie's forehead. 

Running from Richie's side like a shot, Eddie joined the others as they tried to fight against the force that tore Richie from him forever. "Hey asshole!" Eddie shouted, the fear he felt evaporating, replaced with buzzing rage. 

Everyone looked at him. "Eddie, what are you doing?" Bev asked carefully, approaching him like a man on a building that was about to jump. 

"Trust me." Eddie insisted. "I was choking him at the pharmacy. Really choking him. I was winning. I know I was. I knocked him off his game and made him feel small." Recognition registered in Bev's eyes as Eddie turned back to Pennywise. "You think I'm fucking afraid of a balding clown with a big forehead? That's actually hysterical. I have a lot of practice dealing with clowns that are way funnier than you. So, if you're not scary and you're not funny, then what the fuck good are you? Pretty shitty fucking clown." 

"I'm the eater of worlds!" The giant spider form of Pennywise seemed to stumble slightly. 

"Cute nickname, but last I checked you eat kids, not worlds. So, maybe you should rethink this little god complex you have going on. It's not so hard when you're picking on helpless kids. I could punt a kid across the room, but I don't. You know why I don't? Because I'm not a fucking weak asshole who needs to hurt kids to feel powerful. Fuck you." All of Eddie's nerve endings were buzzing. It was working. He could tell it was working. 

"You're a weak old woman!" Bev added, standing behind Eddie. 

"You're just a stupid fucking clown!" The others joined in one by one to back up Eddie and lead the assault on Pennywise.

Insult by insult they chipped away at Pennywise until it was nothing more than a white quivering lump on the ground, like a melting discarded ice cream cone. Eddie glowered down at it. Its tiny hands reached out as it spoke on a mousy squeak. "Spare me." It begged only once and Eddie let loose an easy bitter laugh, as he tore his nails into its chest with both hands and tore out what its little hands tried to protect. A beating heart. "This is for Richie, you ugly nasty pathetic worm." Eddie could hear his voice crack and squeal, but he didn't give a fuck. He drew the heart high above his head and tossed it with force onto the ground, moving on it. Kicking and stomping savagely. The others joined in briefly until the deadlights went out and Pennywise shriveled away like ash and dust in the wind. Eddie was still stomping even when there was nothing else there and the place started to come down. 

(you may recognize this @gloomy-prince drew it for this fic

"Where's Richie?" Bill asked, pulling Eddie from his focused assault.

Eddie's hand went to Richie's glasses in his pocket, the pocket where he used to keep his inhaler. "Richie's gone." He forced out. Several eyes caught his as they looked at each other, beginning to panic. "He's gone." Eddie said more firmly. "Now, get out of here before I have to bury more of my best friends." They all nodded, knowing they didn't have long. The place was coming down all around them. 

He knew he was leaving Richie there, but what could he do? Richie was gone. He wouldn't have been able to carry the other, much larger, man out. He knew he couldn't disrespect Richie's sacrifice by doing something stupid like trying to get him out. No matter how much he wished he could. No matter how much the thought of his childhood best friend rotting down there forever made his skin itch. 

The Losers went to the quarry to wash away the dirt and gray water. Eddie mostly stayed to the side on dry land and watched them in the water. He had Richie's glasses, still smeared with his blood, in his hands. Things were quiet. Eerily quiet without Richie. He'd never be there to fill the silence again. 

Bev floated over to the bank where Eddie reclined. "Hey," she said. 

"Hey," he said back, but didn't meet her gaze. 

She pulled herself slightly up to sit with him. She saw the glasses and took a long look. "Do you want me to clean them off for you?" 

"No." He replied coolly, still not meeting her eyes. "I can't do it." He said finally.

"Can't do what?" Her voice was soft and smooth like a gentle blanket bundling him up. 

"I can't wash it away. It's all I have left." He still refused to look at her, but tightened his grip on the glasses. 

She nodded in understanding. "I saw." She said. 

"Saw what?

"I saw him die." He looked back at her. "I saw us all die in so many ways. I didn't know which ones were real. I had no idea. I'm so sorry." She was trembling. "It's like…every possibility from every possible universe ran through my head." He wanted to reach out to her, but his hands wouldn't move from Richie's glasses. "Did you kiss his head?" She asked quietly and eventually took his silence as an answer. "I saw that too." She said, "Just that much. I always knew how much he meant to you. How much you meant to each other. If it were you-" 

"Thank you, Beverly," he cut her off gently. "I don't blame you at all. You did everything you could." She nodded in understanding and slowly went back to be with Ben. They deserved to be happy. He just wished so fucking hard that Richie was causing trouble in the water, splashing grieving faces until they turn to smiles. He'd have done that for them if he had lived. If Richie had lived he'd be able to make them all smile. Eddie couldn't do that. He didn't have that magic inside him that Richie did. The power to make even the most dire situation tolerable. He always did that for Eddie, even if he was annoying the hell out of him. If it were Eddie that died, Richie could have made everyone feel better again. But Richie didn't live. Eddie did. And Eddie couldn't do that. 

So, he was back on the plane to New York because his vacation days would run out by Monday, and what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't change things. He and Richie had talked about staying in touch. Leaving together to spend a few days catching up before they had to go back to their lives. If Eddie even wanted to go back to his life after spending any more time with Richie. He wasn't sure if he would have, but now he'd never know. Now Richie was rotting under Neibolt and, well, those risks weren't gonna analyze themselves. 

[cherikdogfood]

Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?

Written for Whumptober 2023 #2: Delirium

"Erik," Charles rasped weakly.

"Charles?" Erik moved closer to him and squeezed his hand gently.

"Erik... Have I told you lately that I love you?" He whispered, bright blue eyes looking at Erik.

Erik froze, not understanding the meaning or implication of the words. Suddenly he was finding it difficult to comprehend the English language.

He swallowed the budding lump in his throat and tore his eyes away from Charles' electric blue ones.

Calm down, stupid heart, Erik muttered to himself. Charles was probably high on morphine, so he was sputtering nonsense.

They were currently in a hospital, and while Erik hated the sterile white walls of the place, he had no choice but to bring Charles here.

(Well, the one who brought all of them here was actually Azazel, but Erik was the one who forced him convinced him to do so).

Erik winced as he recalled what had happened at the beach. He had managed to kill Shaw... The Americans and Russians had fired their missiles at them, and he was furious.

Erik was going to turn the missiles, to send them back to those humans, but then Charles told him to stop, and then they were fighting, and Moira was firing the gun and it was so easy to deflect the bullets away and then--

And then the world had dissolved around him as Charles -- good, perfect Charles, was falling to the ground in pain.

The knowledge that it was his actions, his hands, that had sent the bullet into Charles, was overwhelming. Erik had never hated himself more.

Erik had tried to talk to Charles, ask him if he was okay, and choke out a trembling "I'm sorry", but Charles wasn't listening. He wasn't even awake.

At first, Erik was horrified to see Charles' eyes closed. What if he would never wake again? What if he never smiled at Erik again, never played chess with him, and never again teach him to love, to be so much more than the hatred he was used to feeling...

Thankfully, thankfully, Charles' body was still warm. He was still breathing. And his pulse was still there.

Erik had been frantic, ordering Azazel to transport them to the nearest hospital...

A small squeeze in his hand brought Erik back to the present. Charles was still staring at him, waiting for a reply.

His eyes were slightly glazed, but he was persistently looking at Erik. It took a moment for Erik to remember what Charles had asked.

Erik, have I told you lately that I love you?

Erik looked at Charles, his eyes settling on Charles' ruby red lips.

"Reading my mind, are you, Charles?" Erik whispered half-jokingly.

Charles pouted, and Erik fought not to call him adorable again.

A few days before Cuba, Erik had come to the realization that he did not "like" Charles, he didn't see Charles as just his brother.

He actually loved him.

Erik was actually... in love with Charles.

Erik had shut down the thought as quickly as possible. The last thing he needed was for Charles to hear his thoughts and distance himself from him.

Yes, Erik had feelings for Charles. But it was impossible for Charles to reciprocate his feelings. Erik didn't deserve Charles.

"Erik..." Charles whined softly.

"I love you, y'know?" His words were slightly slurred, probably because of the drugs as well.

"I know, I know," Erik replied, trying to smile but only managing a grimace.

Charles probably has no idea what he is saying, Erik told himself. It's probably the drugs speaking. After all, it's just like Charles to love everyone he knows.

"Right, since you're awake, I think I'll call the doctors and nurses. They'll know what to do," Erik muttered quickly. He pointedly ignored Charles' puppy dog eyes and tried to think of something else to distract himself.

Erik moved to press the button on the side of the bed, knowing that the nurses would hear the ring and come here as quickly as they could.

"Erik," Charles whined again when he noticed that Erik wasn't looking him in the eye.

"You... haven't answ'red meee..." Charles adds.

"What? What're you talking about, Charles?" Erik gave him a helpless smile.

"Look, Charles, you're probably just high on morphine right now, but I need to think carefully. Do you remember what happened?"

Charles blinks owlishly at him.

"What happened?"

Erik sighs and rubs his face on one hand. Why wasn't the damn doctor here yet? And where were Raven and the others?

"Erik, I told you I love you," Charles whines.

There he goes again, Erik thinks, spouting sweet nonsense and making his heart pound like crazy.

It's not fair, Erik thinks glumly.

Charles looks at him with his too-blue eyes (damn his eyes, who can say no to that?), and whimpers.

"Erikk, you're supposed to say you love me too," Charles whispers, pouting slightly.

Erik's jaw clenches involuntarily and a twinge of annoyance shoots through him. It's so easy for Charles to say something like this.

Does he even know what Erik actually thinks of him? Does he know that Erik wants to love him so much it hurts?

Apparently Erik's silence is too much, as Charles moves his hand weakly to grab Erik's arm. His coordination is wonky and his movements are stiff, but he still manages to grab Erik's hand.

"D'ya know... how much I love you, Erik?"

Erik grits his teeth, but he squeezes Charles' hand somewhat absentmindedly.

"Well, how much?" He asks, swallowing dryly.

Maybe if he humors Charles, he won't pester him anymore. Erik was definitely not wondering how much Charles loved him.

Anyway, after the drugs wear off, Charles would probably forget this incident altogether, he reminded himself.

"I never have and I never shall... fall in love with anyone but you..." Charles whispered slowly, carefully enunciating each word and savoring its taste.

Erik felt his heart skipping and jumping, threatening to break out of his chest. He pursed his lips, feeling immensely grateful that he was good at keeping a poker face.

"Is that what you tell your lovers before bringing them to bed, Charles?" Erik bites out, trying (and failing) not to sound so bitter.

Perhaps Charles picks up on his negative feelings, because a frown appears between his eyebrows and Erik has to snuff out the urge to kiss his frown away.

"Erik, you... don't believe me?"

"It's not that, Charles. It's just--"

"But I thought you had feelings for me!" Charles cries out, somewhat petulantly.

Erik freezes. So Charles knew all along? Did he read Erik's mind, or...

Apparently Charles took Erik's silence differently, because his lips twist into a grimace.

"I-I'm sorry, Erik. Perhaps I was reading the signs wrongly. You only see me as a brother, perhaps? Or as a friend?"

Charles expression was wounded, like a drenched puppy that had been kicked away. Erik instantly hated himself even more.

Wasn't it enough that he sent a bullet to his spine? Why did he have to make Charles upset?

Shaw had been right. He was a monster. He didn't deserve Charles. He shouldn't even be here. He should just--

"I'm sorry," Charles' voice broke him out of his thoughts and Erik's head snapped up to meet Charles' eyes.

"What?" Erik asked, feeling bewildered. What was Charles apologizing for?

"I'm sorry for... imposin' my feelings... on youu..." Charles explained, "It's just that... I've been soo in love with you, all this time... trying to hide it... 'M tired."

Erik can feel his jaw dropping as he looks at Charles carefully. Charles' face... he's telling the truth.

Charles likes him.

No, Charles loves him.

Charles opens his mouth to say something else, but Erik is having none of it. Within seconds, he's got his lips pressed on Charles' kissing him slowly, tentatively, until he feels Charles kissing back.

Charles feels so soft and so sweet, and Gott, Erik just wants to stay here and ravage him and --

"Ahem," an awkward cough pulls Erik (unwillingly) to reality and he breaks the kiss, relishing the small whine that Charles makes and the way his eyes look at Erik pleadingly, asking for more.

Erik wants to bask in this moment forever, memorizing every detail of Charles' dazed expression, but he hears a small snarl coming from behind him, sounding like Raven.

He turns around to see Raven, as expected, with arms crossed and glaring at him, while Azazel is smirking, his tail moving back and forth in amusement.

"I should've known you would take advantage of my brother while he's delirious," Raven all but growls, and Erik feels rather impressed.

It's not every day that he sees Raven letting go of all her inhibition and getting angry like this. However, he knows that provoking her now will not do him any good.

After all, if he's going to get married with Charles in the future it would be better to curry favor with his future sister-in-law.

Erik winced when he realized that he had gotten ahead of himself. It was just a kiss. Charles probably kissed his friends and even his enemies all the time. It didn't mean anything.

"Raven!" Charles' voice is rather shrill, but Erik can feel happiness rolling off of him. "Erik just promised to marry me!"

If Raven's face had been angry before, now she turns absolutely livid.

"You proposed to him here? In a hospital, while he's high on drugs, and after all that shit in Cuba?!" She shrieks.

Well. So much for currying favor with his sister-in-law.

Erik still doesn't think he deserves Charles. He's a terrible, terrible monster that Shaw created. He's hurt people before. Hell, he's even killed them.

But when Charles was giving him that puppy-dog eyes, how could he resist?

Maybe, just maybe, Erik thought, he could find happiness with Charles.

[if-mirrormine]

drunken confessions

summary: a college party is all it takes for grayson to finally tell the mc how he really feels

pairing: grayson x mc

word count: 933

somewhat based on this request: where grayson and mc get drunk in college, confess lingering feelings and ends hot???

**unedited//see the end for translations**

the music is too loud. the steady thumping of the bass shakes the floor, rocking grayson on his feet. it travels up his legs, weaving its way through his bones until it reaches his chest, beating along to the rhythm of his heart. he feels sick, nauseous, the world blurring in and out of focus around him as he struggles to keep his balance. he’s had a lot to drink, too much and now he’s paying the price. 

he can’t stay on his feet any longer. leaning against the wall of the hallway, he slides down the length of it until he’s slumped on the floor. he wishes he knew where the mc was; he’d lost sight of them an hour ago when a few guys from his economics class pulled him away to play a game of beer pong. one game that had somehow turned itself into seven games, six of which his team lost. he hadn’t caught even the slightest glimpse of them since and that has his chest feeling hollow. as if in leaving his side, they’d taken his heart with them. and now he is completely and utterly empty. even at a party filled with people, without them by his side, he is impossibly alone.

fucking hell. he groans at the pounding in his skull, his hands reaching up to weave through his hair, his fingers tugging on the thick locks. he wants the mc. they always know just how to comfort him. he wants them here, now, by his side, holding his hand, kissing him back when he kisses them first. badly. he wants them to know how he feels. and with the alcohol casting a fog over his thoughts, he can’t for the life of him remember why he hasn’t already told them. he’s wasted six years for reasons he can’t comprehend. he groans again. where are they when he needs them most?

as if god himself had heard his prayers and taken pity on him, the mc rounds the corner, relief washing over their features as they spot him. “grayson!” they say as they approach him and he raises his eyes to their face long enough to catch the concerned smile aimed at him. god, he loves their smile. “what are you doing on the floor?”

‘comfy’ is the only word, albeit a bit slurred, that he can come up with. his mind is too hazy to think of a more complex response.

they chuckle softly before sliding down the wall to join him. almost on impulse, he scoots closer to them and rests his head on their shoulder, taking a deep breath of their fading perfume as they wrap their arm around his waist. “been looking everywhere for you, you know.”

he hums in response, the sound more akin to a grunt than anything else, as he tries to think of the right words to say. in a language they’ll understand. fuck. he doesn’t remember which is the right one. he should never have agreed to come to this party...

to his shock and amazement, a full sentence makes its way out of his mouth. “stęskniłem się za tobą,” he says, the words slurring together ever so slightly. if he could, he’d pat himself on the back.

without missing a beat, they reply with a soft, “bless you”, their fingers weaving their way through his hair in a gentle caress.

he shakes his head, a frown taking shape on his face. even in his inebriated state, he can tell that’s not the right response from them. maybe he said the wrong thing. “no,” he mutters, indignant. “zakochałem się w tobie.”

they chuckle beside him, giving him a small squeeze. “i don’t speak polish, gray.”

his frown turns into a pout as he tilts his head back to look at them, his eyes just barely open and his lips practically pressed against their jawline. “but I don’t remember how to speak english.”

the smile they give him is a beautiful sight, one he has ingrained in his memory. “i think you’re doing a fine job.”

he tries again, still trying to figure out the correct language. “je suis fou amoureux de toi.” he gets the feeling that isn’t quite right either.

“‘amour’ i know," they chuckle again. "i love you too, gray.”

he hums again, the sound rumbling through his chest. but he's not happy with their 'i love you'. because they don't mean it the way he means it.

"no," he says again, his next words mumbled against their neck. "not friendship love. love love. i l-o-o-o-ove you."

"you're quite the affectionate drunk," they comment, choosing their words carefully.

"only for you."

there's a pause in the conversation and all grayson can hear over his own heartbeat is the same pounding bass line. maybe if he was sober he'd be worried about the mc's lack of response, but he can't bring himself to care in his current state. he's finally said all he's been wanting to say.

they suddenly clear their throat. "we should probably go home. you've had too much to drink."

he nods his head in agreement, his eyes finally slipping closed. they rise to their feet and he doesn't fight them as they pull him help up. he'll do anything if it means he gets to be pressed up against them, losing himself in the feel of their skin and the smell of their shampoo and if all it takes is him being in his current state; well, maybe he should drink more often. impending hangover and fear of rejection be damned.

stęskniłem się za tobą - i've missed you

zakochałem się w tobie - i'm in love with you

je suis fou amoureux de toi - i am madly in love with you

[seriouslysnape]

Perfect Resolution

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut. Language. 

Word Count: 1,641

“Good. You deserved that after today.”

“Even when you’re being stubborn, you’re still my pretty girl.” Harry huffed out, his voice strained when you slammed back down onto his lap in a particularly rough way, the tip of his cock pounding at your g-spot.

Your brain was mush at this point. Every thought that crossed your mind was occupied by either Harry or your goal to achieve the orgasm that he was helping you towards. Harry looked so good right now. His hair was unruly and ruffled in every direction from where your hands had untidied it from being wrapped in it. You leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his famous scar without ever breaking the rhythm of your hips.

You had been rather difficult today. It hadn’t been your best day, and everything had seemingly gone wrong since the moment you had gotten up that morning. You had been sour with him all day, brushing him off and barking at him for the most innocent intentions. He had been trying to get through to you all day, trying to make you feel better. But even Harry, who was the most patient person you knew, would crack eventually. The last straw was drawn when you had blown up at him for attempting to help you study for your Transfiguration exam that you were totally screwed for.

“I don’t need your fucking help, Harry!” You had basically screamed at him, causing him to recoil completely. 

He had been standing next to where you were sitting at your desk, rubbing your back soothingly and pointing out things in your notes when you got stuck on something. He hadn’t expected you to respond so harshly to him just trying to help, and honestly he had enough with your attitude for one day.

Without another word, he had yanked you up from your chair, sitting in it himself and pulling you onto his lap. He murmured something about “fucking the attitude right out of you”; something that he didn’t do very often. He had pushed you over the edge the first time with just his fingers, pumping and curling his fingers until you were writhing around his hand. Now he was repeatedly being buried deep inside of you each time you crashed back down onto him.

Even though he was aggravated with you, he knew that you had just been frustrated all day. He wanted you to feel better, because he could never stay mad at you. Still, he hadn’t quite worked through all the irritation.

“You take my cock so well, don’t you?” He practically groaned out, “Just like you took my fingers just a few minutes ago...you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You hadn’t said anything in a while, your thoughts too preoccupied to form any kind of coherent response to what he was saying to you. Your eyes were screwed shut, so tightly that you were seeing inky blotches behind your eyelids. Your head was tilted upwards to the ceiling as you focused on the way he was stretching and filling your slick walls so perfectly. He was meeting your bounces with his upward thrusts, hitting every sensitive spot that had melted you into a whimpering puddle.

It wasn’t until his hand gripped your chin to force you to look at him that your eyes opened and you snapped out of your trance.

“Are you not going to answer me?” He asked gruffly when you didn’t give any kind of reply.

Your head fluttered as your dilated pupils met his lust blown ones. You were breathless as you spoke, your chest heaving with each rapid inhale of oxygen that you took. 

“Sorry, Harry. What’d you say?” You asked him to repeat, your own voice echoing in your ears.

Instead, Harry shot up from the chair without removing his throbbing cock out of you. Your wobbly legs were pitiful as he brought you to your feet, pressing the front of your hips into the desk and pulling your back against his front. 

“Since you can’t get it together, I guess I’m going to have to fuck you into your desk.” He growled, pushing your skirt up and chuckling lowly in your ear at the reminder that his favorite pair of your lace knickers had been discarded long ago. 

The wooden material of your desk dug into your skin, but you were too focused on the delicious feeling of Harry fucking in and out of you to even notice. Your palms gripped the edge of the desk, your eyes raking over the countless parchments of Transfiguration notes in front of you. The words were blurred jumbles of letters, and you couldn’t comprehend what any of it said to save your life right now.

Harry was fucking you hard and fast, pulling out almost completely each time before railing back into you. He kept one hand on your waist to keep you from straying away from him, since sometimes you tended to squirm. His other hand cupped one of your breasts, playing with the stimulated nipple. Your orgasm was heating up and pooling in your belly, your desperation becoming more and more clear.

“Harry.” You croaked out, your voice light and airy.

“What, angel?” He acknowledged with a grin, knowing you were beginning to beg.

“Please...” You whined, your knees trembling more with each passing second.

He laughed again in your ear as he slammed in again past your sopping folds, your arousal had drenched his cock and was dripping down your thighs.

“What do you want, baby? You’ve got to tell me if you want something.” He sneered with the knowledge that he had you at his mercy.

You swallowed hard, your brain even foggier than before as you replied without much hesitation.

“I wanna cum.” You admitted, crying out immediately after a particularly perfect thrust from him.

“Do you? Only good girls get to cum,” He pointed out, his voice muffled from his mouth sucking on your neck, “You’ve been bad all day. I don’t know if you deserve it.”

The desire and the need to finish was exploding all through you. This was the best you had felt all day and if you didn’t get your release, you were sure you’d be a mess before the night was over. 

“No, no, no. Please, Harry. I didn’t mean to- fuck! I just wanna cum so I can feel better...” You pleaded.

Harry was a real softie at heart, and he rarely could stand the sound of you so needy and broken down. Maybe if you had really pissed him off, he might hold off on letting you cum, but right now he felt too bad to leave you like this.

“Okay, love, okay. Just because you’ve had such a rough day, I’m gonna let you finish,” He said, his words beginning to slur together, “But the next time you get snappy with me, I might not be so nice.” He rumbled.

A moan of satisfaction and bliss bubbled out of your throat as he continued to wonderfully fuck you the way only he knew how to. The band of ecstasy was stretching and stretching in your gut, and it was only a matter of a few more immaculately pounds into you that it would snap. His cock twitched deep inside of you somewhere, signaling that he was about to burst as well. 

When he felt you clench around him, he splayed his hand across your chest and pulled you completely back and flush against him as you came on his cock, his own release spilling into you. The sound of his moan as he finished sent waves of thrill through you as he held you close as you fell from your climax. The rushes of electricity and lust fizzled away slowly the further you both trailed from your finishes. The only sounds were your matched heavy breathing and occasional sigh of content.

Harry dragged his now softened cock out of you, his tip leaving last with a wet sounding pop. Your core and legs were shaking violently as he spun you around, holding you up by your arms to keep you from collapsing on him.

“You alright, lovely?” He questioned once he felt stable enough to speak.

“Mmhm,” You mumbled, “I’m perfect.”

“Good. You deserved that after today.” He responded, referring to how a good loving making session was all you needed.

You didn’t quite catch the intention of his words, and your expression changed into a guilty one.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry I was so mean today. It wasn’t your fault.” You apologized, kissing just above his right pectoral muscle.

He kept you held up with one arm, using his free hand to brush your messy hair from your face. He kissed the tip of your nose, then pressing another lazy kiss to your lips.

“I know, sweet girl. It’s okay,” He said warmly, “I meant that you deserved to feel good after you’ve had such a bad day.”

He whisked you away to your bed, snuggling up with you to give you a break from both studying and fucking. He littered you with kisses, aiding in getting rid of the remnants of your bad mood. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and kissed all the places that made you smile or giggle happily.

Today reminded you of one of the many reasons you loved your beloved Harry. He was patient when you were being difficult. He was understanding when you were struggling. He was there for you when you needed him to be. He made your heart swell and your stomach flutter every time. 

He was the perfect resolution every time things got hard.

“Thanks for making me feel better. In more ways than one.” You said appreciatively with a small laugh. 

Harry grinned proudly, leaving another kiss on your forehead.

“Anytime, my love.”

[no-droids]

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi​

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly.  And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable.  This is home.  You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness.  Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream.  But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it.  Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault.  You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask.  Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression.  How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions?  You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense.  Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong.  You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room.  Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan.  As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you.  You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him.  You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest.  His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak.  You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out.  Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise.  Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet.  You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck.  You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed.  Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm?  No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that.  You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now.  You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter.  The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha?  No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up.  Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it.  “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers.  It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone.  “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound.  But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more.  Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince.  You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again.  If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs.  “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy.  Your voice is small and your words slur.  “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek.  Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this.  Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says.  You hear it.  You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange.  Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right.  It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now.  You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness.  You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed.  You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes.  Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep.  “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away.  “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy.  Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence?  Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close.  It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish.  Counting.  You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through.  Understanding words.  You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that.  Yep.  You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said.  Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that?  Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it.  Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery.  Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning.  You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay.  It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics.  You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed.  The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate.  Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat.  Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier.  No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point.  You need something newer.  Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened.  One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds.  You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression.  “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves.  Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection.  How many fucking…?  All this for just one person?  What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t?  They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming?  Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest.  A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan.  “Nope.  Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside.  You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood.  He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection.  He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster.  The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind.  His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib.  Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut.  You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck.  Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind.  You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all.  Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance.  There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay.  Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one?  Ah, yes, okay—safety, off.  Stance, find your stance.  There it is.  Alright, now lift.  Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up.  Hold.  Hold.  Hold.

Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!”  You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated.  What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what?  Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder?  Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope?  Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot.  It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here.  Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point.  Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah.  It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you.  “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger.  The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well.  Uh.  That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside.  Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow.  Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart.  In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing.  You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to.  Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay.  “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb.  Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold.  You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.  

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound.  Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back.  Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving.  Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently.  Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry.  You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm.  That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see.  He’s laying facedown in the snow.  There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him.  Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?”  You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him.  “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him.  He doesn’t respond.  He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him.  You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath.  His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy.  You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet.  You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder.  You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning.  But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do.  You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold.  He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff?  The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up.  Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments.  The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again.  Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you.  The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold.  It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now.  Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly.  So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor.  You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore.  The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit.  Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t.  Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now.  Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct.  His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding.  “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now.  His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now.  Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time.  You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm.  Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore.  It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving.  No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up.  Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in.  Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears.  He’s warm, what else can you do for him?  Why is he not waking up?  “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet.  You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in.  He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment.  He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull.  He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up.  It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed.  You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents.  Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much.  You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off.  If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower.  You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means.  You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly.  Again, just in case.  “I’m not gonna look.  Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both.  He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating.  “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall.  You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold.  His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck.  Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless.  He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do.  The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing.  Slow.  Shallow.  Barely able to be felt against your neck.  He’s here but he’s not.  And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize.  But you have nothing to say.  After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore.  The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull.  You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort.  Wake up.  Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it.  You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward.  You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it.  It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second.  A second where you dare to hope.  Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards.  You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present.  Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief.  “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers.  You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again.  You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that.  Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you.  He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking.  Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay.  The kid is okay.  Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether.  Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck.  Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline.  A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why.  But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t.  You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no.  That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside.  You know this.  You know it’s there, and you know he needs it.  Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty.  You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there.  And you’re the only one awake.  The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself.  For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought.  Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push.  You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer.  Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck.  You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident.  You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to.  You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock.  You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece.  When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship.  The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing.  You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow.  You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse.  A dead body.  That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite.  Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s…  It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why.  It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way.  Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to.  You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still…  Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up.  The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving.  As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband.  When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There.  Halfway done.  You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him.  Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly.  Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite.  And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there.  With your hands, you have to grab it.  With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart.  If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din.  If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din.  He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what?  If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative.  It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another.  You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place.  The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes.  You’re done.  You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait.  Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other.  “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight.  You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.  

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now.  You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him.  The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you.  Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy.  Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions.  “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either.  He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows.  Beyond a shadow of a doubt.  It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible.  “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer.  “We’re in hyperspace.  Everything’s okay now, I took care of it.  We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding.  “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue.  “I took care of it.  You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His.  Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…”  His hands are trembling harder than his voice.  “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers.  “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip.  Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull.  You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.  

Fuck, you’re not expecting it.  You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all.  He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up.  You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head.  The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…”  Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit.  He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again.  “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time.  “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing.  His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight.  He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin.  “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words.  Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours.  But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension.  Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you.  Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it.  You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now.  “It’s okay.  Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.  

“How d-did you find me?”  He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him.  Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him.  “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back.  “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore.  In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting.  The alternative is unthinkable.  Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him.  “I raided your armory.  We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason.  Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet.  Breathing.  So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it.  You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest.  In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in.  It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?”  He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding.  No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back.  The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours.  It feels like it was ages ago.  An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding.  “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer.  It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that.  So now what is he going to say?  What is he going to say?  You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work.  Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add.  You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore.  His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize.  He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range.  Which means he wasn’t just joking around.  He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you.  You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice.  Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness.  “Why did you say that?  On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual.  Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you.  “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you.  His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast.  “Earlier that day.  I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You?  Said something that made him ask that?

“What?”  You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue.  “What did I say?”

“Something about…”  He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold.  “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth.  “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily.  “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity.  “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth.  You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real.  You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it.  You do mean it.  Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you.  Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him.  His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation.  There are, of course, millions of things left to ask.  But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions.  You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time.  Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift.  It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.  

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know.  Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know.  Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue.  You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before.  All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape.  “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost.  The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?”  You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet.  Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated.  “Ni, for I or we.  Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person.  Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter.  Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all.  If that’s true, it’s unbelievable.  How do they differentiate?  Just context?

“How do you distinguish?”  You ask him.  Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive.  I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it.  “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it.  “What do you mean?”  You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of.  “We abandon our names.  We become… whispers, of the same voice.  There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms.  Interchangeable.  Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication.  Almost all of them are homonyms?  How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point?  That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?”  You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now.  “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…”  You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it.  Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested.  “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale.  “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason.  Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.”  He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest.  “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck.  “No witnesses, no celebrations.  We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look.  It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival.  Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing.  To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore.  Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably.  The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder.  “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone.  “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.”  Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way.  The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory.  You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt.  Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion.  “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier.  You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face.  Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot.  Unmoving.  Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it.  “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you.  The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you.  The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it.  You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them.  It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though.  You’re still behind.  “You knew I’d say no?”  You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly.  Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either.  Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right.  If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly.  Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment.  “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following.  Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him.  Respecting them.  Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull.  So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time.  His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him.  You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue.  He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves.  You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you.  But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here.  In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?”  You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

[glambots]

INSOMNIA

Moondrop/Reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 1.8k

In which Moon is a bully and forces you to take a nap.

You were so fucking tired it wasn’t even funny.

After another sleepless night of tossing and turning, you’d resigned yourself to your slogging your way through your eight-hour shift of chasing down hyperactive, sugar-addled toddlers. Which was already a hard enough task on your best days. And a form of torture on your worst.

Today happened to be one of the latter.

Which was why, after four solid hours of helping Sunny wrangle the children, you were more than ready for “nap time.”

Nap time, of course, wasn’t nap time for you. But it was your lunch break. Which meant that while the kids slept, you would have a solid hour of peace and quiet in the break room.

Moon, however, seemed to have other plans.

He usually let you be when you went on your lunch breaks. You saw him sometimes, and even spoke to him occasionally, but compared to the time you spent with Sun, you weren’t particularly close.

So, it was a surprise when he approached you out the blue, after the two of you had helped the kids organize their sleeping spaces.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He’d asked, head cocked to the side as he leaned against the exit of the daycare, effectively blocking you in.

“Uh, to lunch?” Your words were slightly slurred from how tired you were. God, you needed a FizzyFaz stat. The stuff tasted like battery acid, but it was packed with enough caffeine that it’d keep you from passing out in a pile of your own drool.

Moon held up a finger, wagging it back and forth with a teasing giggle. “Ah-ah-ah. Didn’t you hear? It’s nap time.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes, the little red beads gleaming in the dimmed lights of the daycare. “Your energy levels have been low all day.”

After a pause, his gaze narrowed. “Did you stay up past your bedtime again? Oh, naughty-naughty!”

“Not of my own volition.” You sighed in exasperation, but Moon just giggled again.

There was something about the way he chided you like that, that made your whole face go hot. He just had a way of getting under your skin, and you both knew it.

Moon tsked, shaking his head. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

“It’s not like I don’t try!” You hissed, throwing your hands up in the air. Your voice came out louder than you meant for it to, and you threw a glance over your shoulder to make sure you hadn’t woken any of the kids.

They were still asleep, thank god.

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to lunch now and—"

When you turned back around, he was right in your face.

You squeaked in shock, stumbling back and nearly falling flat on your ass. Moon caught your wrist at the last second, yanking you back to safety with another maniacal giggle and saving your poor tailbone from a potential bruising.

“You’re trying to lecture me and look at you! Hardly able to stand up straight.” He tsked again, his cold grip tightening slightly on your arm. “You need to sleep.”

“I can’t—”

“You can.” He stated simply. “Come here.”

Before you could comprehend what he was doing, Moon had thrown you over his shoulder and was carrying you to the innermost circle of the center, where the kids were sleeping.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, trying to wriggle free. “Put me down, dammit!”

“Shhh, you’ll wake the children!” He whispered with a snicker, tip-toeing his way gracefully through the maze of little bodies until the two of you were on the other side of the makeshift “mine field.” Only then did he drop you—directly onto your back. “And watch your language.”

“You—” You wheezed, struggling to catch your breath after it had been knocked out of you so suddenly. “You can’t just manhandle me like that—!”

Something hit you in the face, cutting off your curse with a soft “Oof!” You scrambled to yank the thing away, fearful that he’d just snapped and decided to attack you out of the blue—only to realize that the projectile you were clawing so desperately at was a pillow.

“Oh.”

Moon giggled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Always so stubborn! Be glad I’m being lenient with you, I’m not usually so patient.”

You huffed, leaning back on the thing he’d dropped you onto. It was soft beneath your hands.

“Is this a cot?”

You thought you’d used all the ones you had to set up for the kids. Apparently, there was a spare, and Moon had saved it specifically for you. It was a…shockingly kind gesture.

Before you could even think of mustering up a thanks, he was pushing at your shoulders, easing you onto your back.

“Relax. I can help.”

His tone was soft, coaxing even. Not even a hint of humor glimmering beneath. You hated the way your body immediately reacted, allowing him to maneuver you until you were practically lying underneath him, the pillow clutched to your chest like some sort of flimsy shield.

“Um.” You felt like your whole body was on fire. “You’re too close.”

“Hm?” Moon’s head cocked to the side. “Your temperature has risen considerably.”

“Are you…blushing?” His tone was mocking, and it made you bristle.

“No!” You quickly rolled onto your side, trying to ignore the way your face was burning. “Are you planning on watching me sleep or something? You got me here, now leave me alone.”

“Ungrateful little brat.” He flicked your ear, and you swatted at his hand in retaliation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

It took you both a moment to just comprehend what he’d said.

“What did you—Ack!”

Without warning, he threw a blanket over your head.

“Stop doing that!”

After a moment of squirming, you finally got yourself into a comfortable position. Pillow beneath your head, blanket tucked around your body, eyes closed, and lying on your side…

Totally unable to sleep.

Which was about what you had expected. This was no different from when you were in your own bed, only now there was a creepy animatronic hovering over you, watching you. Waiting. Staring.

…

“…Stop staring at me.” You mumbled. Even with your eyes squeezed closed, you could feel his gaze burning holes into your back.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I told you. I can’t.” With a sigh, you rolled over to face him.

Moon sat on his podium, legs swinging over the edge as he overlooked the sea of sleeping kids…and you.

“It’s always been like this.” You whispered, sitting up as he dropped back down to the floor, as silent and graceful as a cat. “I’ll probably pass out once I get home. But right now, I just…”

You shrugged. Despite how exhausted you were, and how comfortable you felt, it was like your brain just wouldn’t shut off. Your thoughts kept coming and going, like a constant, endless waterfall. For hours, you’d lie there, begging your subconscious to shut up, for just a minute, a second, for any semblance of peace from your own mind.

It never came.

“You’re thinking too much.” He crisscrossed his legs as he sat down next to you. “You need to relax.”

“It’s easier said than done.” You sighed.

Moon tapped his fingers along his knee, his eyes moving over your face for a moment before he rolled them, heaving a dramatic sigh of his own.

“So difficult.”

That was all the warning you got before you felt him lifting you up like you weighed nothing. His arms moved with a frightening speed, wrapping the blanket around you until you were effectively burritoed inside of it. You blinked, unable to even wriggle without feeling like a fly in a spider’s web.

“Moon, what the hell—”

“Watch your language.” He replied, pulling you into his lap. “You’ve left me no choice.”

“You are so lucky my arms aren’t free right now, or I’d hit you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

You wouldn’t. Mostly because it wouldn’t do anything, but also because—while you hated to admit it—this was very comfortable.

Sure, you’d been hugged by Sunny before. Enough to know that beneath his clothes was mostly soft, plushy covering coating the endoskeleton and internal wiring. Like a life-sized Squishmallow. And you probably should have assumed Moon was the same, considering they were essentially the same animatronic, just with two different “modes.”

And yet, being curled up against him like this, it still somehow came as a shock to you.

Moon was softer than any pillow you’d ever slept on, and without even realizing it, you found yourself sinking into his embrace. His arms curled around you, cupping your back and beneath your knees, your cheek resting on his shoulder with your head tucked beneath his chin.

You were used to his touch being cold, compared to Sun’s heat. But right now, he felt like a space-heater.

Or maybe that was just you.

Either way, this was the most comfortable you’d ever been in your entire life.

“What is your outfit made of?” You mumbled, fighting to keep your eyes open. “It’s like velvet but…softer. Fleece?”

He shrugged, swaying from side-to-side slowly. It took you a second to realize that he was rocking you.

“You better hope none of the kids wake up and see this…cause if they do, I’ll personally decommission you.”

Even as you said it, you yawned.

“Sleepy?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No.” You lied.

Beneath the fabric of his outfit, you could hear Moon’s internal systems clicking and whirring. But it wasn’t nearly as noisy as you’d expected it to be. It was more like…clockwork.

Slow, methodical, and oddly soothing.

And then he started to sing.

Not full-on sing, like Sun often did, but hum. He was humming a lullaby, one that you couldn’t place, but still sounded oddly familiar. All those things, combined, was slowly drawing you into a state of peace that you’d never known before.

As your head lolled, you could feel his thumb rubbing circles into the small of your back. It was such a gentle, almost tender gesture that you wanted to comment on it, maybe tease him a bit, but you were just too tired to get the words out.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

His earlier words echoed in your head. You’d taken it as teasing.

Now you couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to what he’d said.

“Moon?” You whispered.

“Hm?”

“Did you…mean it?”

“Mean what, starlight?”

Starlight. He’d never called you that before. Sunny sometimes called you “sunshine,” but you’d chalked it up to just being a friendly banter thing. Now it felt…

The way he said it…

There was a tenderness there that was undeniable.

You smiled to yourself. “Nevermind. Jus’…thanks. For this.”

As sleep finally began to creep in, you felt his fingertips brush against your cheek.

Sweetly. Gently. Lovingly.

“…You’re welcome.”

[curiousconch]

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 4)

Part 4: The truth will never lie to me

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Trapped in a conference, Gabe and Alex bask in the afterglow of their interrupted moment by the lake. But before Alex can fully comprehend how she felt, she unravels a truth that may cease the chase altogether.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.8k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, language, implied sexual content. Reader discretion advised.

Author's Notes: Surprise! Yep, it's an early release! I made revisions to fit the ongoing narrative and ended up breaking it down into two parts. Also, this series may span longer than I originally intended it to be, not wanting to rush things. It will probably extend until Part 7, depending on what happens at the finale. I do hope you'll still stick around. If not, I'll totally understand. 😉

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Late night, Boston

Shoe laces, cool wind and the darkness of the forest enveloping them. His breath shuddering with how close her lips was. His throat running dry.

Wanting, longing.

Just a little taste to find out how intoxicatingly delicious those cherry lips would be in his mouth and to feel the heat of her body against his.

And then a splash.

Gabe blinked as he felt ice cold liquid pouring over his crisp white shirt. He wasn't sure if he was having déjà vu.

"Oh, sorry mate," a man standing nearby had bumped into him, making the glass of scotch he was drinking shake and spill into his impeccable suit. He forced down the tasteless curse words forming in his mouth, groaning in frustration at the dissipating sensations from what he had been imagining.

His mind was stuck in an endless loop, replaying the romantic encounter with Alex just the night before. But very much like after Beau's dive into the lake, his consciousness whipped achingly back to reality.

Gabe was leaning on the mobile bar, set in the middle of the conference reception. Did he just lose himself in a daydream like a fool? He wondered, murmuring through his madness.

The time alone with her provided him a glimpse of what could be between them. And oh how euphoric it had been to have her so near, to watch his body respond to her like no other.

It left him just craving for more.

He was lying to himself if he continued to deny that he has feelings for Alex, and how deep he was already in for her. But he knew it wasn't meant to be, at least until after he admits the truth. Until then, he had to pull away.

Easier said than done.

For now, he settled for a view of her, his eyes scoured the room for the subject of his fancy. When he found her, Gabe couldn't stop his smile and the fluttering of his heart, or the warmth growing between his legs.

There she was, in the far side of the room, shining brighter than any star that they had seen in the night sky. Her audience completely captivated as he was with her.

The sight of her in that blue dress swept Gabe back into his fantasies, and how infuriatingly near he was to giving into them. He had to clench his fist around his tumbler, suppressing any trace of his earlier wild thoughts.

Apparently sensing the weight of his gaze, Alex turned to him, their eyes meeting in silent conversation. He watched as she excused herself before making her way towards where he sat.

Half-smiling, Alex's confident expression as she approached him made him swallow hard.

Gabe summoned all his willpower to rein himself in as she got closer. He plastered his usual cocky smile, once again putting up a wall of professionalism. They were in a conference, he reasoned.

"Still watching your wards, old man?" Alex chuckled as she reached a seat beside him.

"Working the room like a pro like that? Very hard to ignore," Gabe interjected, shaking his head. "Had to say Alex, I'm impressed."

"Glad you noticed," she smiled, clearly enjoying the compliment.

"Frankly, you charming the top tier lawyers were hard to miss," he said, with lips quirking into a grin.

"Were you watching the whole time?" she asked.

"Difficult not to, seeing how you're the best-dressed lawyer in the room," he continued, savoring the easy conversation.

She scoffed before turning around, grabbing a napkin from a bartender. Alex offered it to him, pointing at the light stain on his clothes.

He finally muttered a curse, realizing he had been too distracted not to notice the result of the spillage from his own drink. This was one of my best suits.

Gabe almost jumped when Alex started to wipe the front of his suit.

His eyes narrowed, unable to process what was happening. On impulse, he reached out to her, encircling his palms around her wrist. Alex snapped her head up at the touch, the intensity of her gaze enchanting him.

It took all of his strength to break free from it. He cleared his throat and looked away, before grabbing the napkin from her grasp without warning.

It had always been like this. At first, there was this fluidity, a natural attraction between them while they interacted. Then another goddamn minute passes and it all becomes downright complicated.

Gabe wasn't having it.

He briefly shut his eyes closed and released the breath he was holding. When he opened them, he focused his attention on wiping the stain from his jacket, avoiding Alex's questioning gaze. He decided to divert the conversation, robbing her of any opportunity to re-capture him in a trance.

"Don't worry, I don't judge potential partners solely on congeniality. Though I can't speak for Sadie." He then turned and discarded the cloth on the bar. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to speak to a friend who I'm sure will be thrilled to know I'm now a partner."

He finally dared to look at Alex with almost apologetic eyes, before swiftly walking away towards a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Alex was left gaping at his hasty departure, uncertain how it all went south so quickly. She wanted to grab his arm and pull him to her so badly, to pick things up from where they left off last night. From that moment when his lips was inches away from taking hers, before they were interrupted.

Her body ached to be near him. Then again, that's not how she usually operates, so she let him be.

She had never thought her idol was such a tease. Or perhaps, traditional? Alex snickered. Oh how I'll make you beg, Gabriel Ricci. She exhaled, the sultry thought of the man on his knees in front of her suddenly hiking up the temperature in the room. Alex had to fan herself to cool down.

Along with the idea of finally spending some alone time together, conjuring the image of waking up beside Gabe excited her. Well, if ever this chase between them actually culminates to something.

But why was she following this trail of thought? In all her conquests, she had never stayed for what came after. She had that with Julian, and look how that ended. For her, it was always just for the fun. So why does she suddenly liked the notion with Gabe? She shuddered. Ugh, weird.

Maybe it's because it's taking the long game with him? Alex didn't want to know.

Leaving that for now, she resorted to ordering another shot of patron to drown the remnants of her heated thoughts. On her third glass, Alex heard a familiar voice ordering a shot of bourbon. She swiveled towards it and caught sight of Lina Reyes, the opposing lawyer from the Willow case.

"Fancy meeting you here," Alex smiled lazily, remembering how temptingly attractive she was. She also recalled the offer of a hook-up, which she politely declined out of courtesy.

But now, seems like she's getting another chance. And with Gabe being annoyingly hard to get, Alex had to have fun somewhere else. It's not like she and Gabe was committed, right?

Lina scooted closer to her, smelling of a heady mix of alcohol. "Speaking of fancy, damn. You look more incredible than I can remember, Alex," she teased, provocatively arching her brows at her.

Alex quickly picked up Lina's attempt to flirt, stoking her bruised ego. "Gotta be dressed to impress, right?" she waved her fingers as if in curtsy. "Enjoying the conference?"

"At this point, things tend to devolve quickly. But I do plan to have a nightcap back in my room," Lina smirked, Alex feeling the heel of velvet pumps brushing along her bare leg. "Maybe you could join me?"

The woman wasn't exactly subtle, though Alex had to give props to her for her confidence. She liked that in anyone. So Alex returned the gesture, letting her fingers hover an inch over her arm while batting her eyelashes. Two can play that game.

"I think we should stay here."

Wait, what? Did she just say no? Subconsciously? Did hell just freeze over? Or did her brain left her head?

Both women blinked, unable to determine who's more mortified between them. They were both quiet, until Lina broke the awkwardness by a chuckle.

"Had to try, didn't expect I'd be turned down twice," she said consuming the rest of her drink in one gulp. "Worth it though." she shrugged, ordering another round for herself.

Alex struggled to compose herself, brows furrowed in confusion by how that went down.

"Oh don't be so bothered, you're not my first rodeo." Lina poked at her jokingly, clearing up the air. Alex thanked her, and the conversation went smoothly from there.

Several more drinks in, the two women chatted on, venturing into a variety of topics in law and in love. It didn't take long before Lina started to slur in her words, to which Alex found amusing.

"Looks like someone didn't pace herself," she observed as she sipped her cocktail.

"Ah don't mind me, had to cleanse my palate after all the boring sessions earlier," Lina toasted her glass on hers, wobbling as she shifted to face her. "We are a rare breed, us fighters," she leaned towards Alex, lowering her voice to a whisper. "We like-minded women should just stick together, you know?"

Alex was relieved she turned her down the second time. Barely listening to her, she started to drift off as Lina continued rambling on, turning around to face the crowds as her eyes tried to locate that handsome man. Alex smirked when she found Gabe's sexy outline.

"Lot of ungrateful dipshits being freed from prison, even after we work our asses off proving they deserved an earlier release. Khan, Kozlowski, those celebrities involved with the Ivy League admission scandal? Hell, even small town criminal Cornell was released in the last five years alone!"

And with that last statement, Alex froze. "Say that again?"

Confused, Lina stuttered as if she can't remember what she was saying. To Alex's annoyance, she went silent, apparent that more humiliation was on the way. Lina abruptly stood, covering her mouth with her hand as she sprinted to the bathroom. Alex let her pass.

Assured that she'll be fine with her colleagues flanking her, Alex started to obsess over Lina's last sentence.

Was that just the patron? Or am I getting too drunk and starting to hear things? She asked herself, bewildered at how randomly Lina mentioned a Cornell.

With an exasperated sigh, she decided it wouldn't hurt to check. She pulled out her phone from her purse and fired up a search engine, where she typed in the godforsaken name. Alex tapped enter.

As soon as the results loaded, she felt the world crumble beneath her.

No, no, no, no, no. This fucking didn't happen.

She clicked on one of the articles from a local news outlet. The picture beneath the headline shoving her nightmares front and center. There it was, the title written in bold stated loud and clear: Cornell Son Gets Early Release.

Alex bit her lip as she fought to gather herself together, speed reading through the article. This was definitely a surprise, but what really got her reeling was the figure of a man walking behind Maximilian. She'd pick up who that was from anywhere within a mile radius.

Alex tried to keep herself rational, but the shock rippled through her, enough to shake off the alcohol in her system. And why did her stomach churned like she was punched in the gut a hundred times over? Why did she felt fucking betrayed?

Unexpectedly, she knew it wasn't discovering Cornell was now walking freely in the streets.

Deep down, Alex was aware it was because Gabe Ricci was involved. Either way, it looks like her high and mighty boss has some explaining to do.

Her blood boiled, a myriad of questions went through her mind. Resolute, she wanted those damn questions answered. Tonight.

She downed her drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar, sending a text to draw Gabe's attention.

She looked over where he stood, watching the frown in his face as he read her message. She clicked her head, beckoning him outside.

Even he can't fathom the fire storm that was about to come his way.

Author's Notes 2: Thank you for your continued reading! 💖 How do you think things will go down next? Let me see your reactions on your comments and reblogs!

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill

@choicesficwriterscreations

[yoursinfulurges]

AntiHero

[The Venom Within] <- read part one here.

Description: The events that soon followed your emotional downfall turns dark and horrifying after Hydra gains possession of your freedom. 

1/2 of part 2

Warnings: Abuse. Kidnapping. Angst. 

Disclaimer: In this story' venom has no conscious and is simply just the readers alter, or the readers inner thoughts and insecurities. This takes place after civil war time. So Endgame and Infinity War never happens.

____________ 

You huffed inaudibly, hearing your stomach roar from starvation for the fifth time this minute. You had only gotten twelve blocks away from the tower, which was still very much visible when you turned back. Annoyingly so, you tried to avoid any peripheral contact with it, in fear of changing your mind and running straight back. 

Even trying your very hardest to block out any childhood memories spent there from coming back to you, as the last thing you needed was for more tears to be shed. You felt eerily deprived of sensation, and you didn't know if it was because of the cold New York air or the fact that you left a part of you behind back in that tower. The one capable of deciphering the many layers of the overwhelming apathy you ever so felt reside within you. 

The one able to comprehend and break down your other feelings that remained intacted, yet almost seemed brain dead. As if not computing the sitution that had happened moments ago, defying how your tense heart truly ached. Feeling as though you were just a walking body, an empty shell of the person that once was. You knew your inner subconscious was protecting you from added trauma, and was doing the best thing it could by preventing you from feeling the complexity of it all and only allowing minor details to slide. As said feelings would only send you into a spiralling depth of anxiety.

 And only god knows what would happened if your emotions alone suddenly decided it was time to have a panic attack at this very moment. Despite being greatful for the somewhat unorthodox coping mechanism that was forced upon you, you were at war with yourself. Almost angry that you couldn't process the overwhelming wave of sensations, having to submit to the black cold solitude of your mind till your brain finally decides to open up and evaluate just how badly the damage was to your mental health. 

But till that happens your soul was left to wonder and yield in confusion instead of settling on one dependent emotion.... 

You were conflicted to no doubt. 

You were angry yet, if tried hard enough and dug a bit deeper, pass the wall you built around your heart, you found yourself strangely at peace. Contradicting the forefront frustration you had with the profound perplexity of the situation, confusing you once more. As a part of you almost beams at the sudden calmness that over came you, in contrast to your outbursts merely an hour ago. 

Sure, you felt a myriad of miniscule emotions coincide you, tiny enough not to affect you in any way shape or form, or take away your apathetic structure, (thankfully so). And you knew that you were definitely far from okay as of right now, especially since you were somewhat going through an existential crisis. Yet in a funny defiant kind of way you were fine. It was as if your amygdala had froze, preventing you from registering everything that had happened. Forcing you to rerun the moments leading up to here in order to get to the bottom of what your true emotions and opinions were. 

You made it out of the tower unnoticed, given the fact that you dressed a lot more muted than you'd normally do. Nobody would think that it was Y/n Stark under the hood of one of Steve Rogers' old jacket. Your clothes weren't exactly ideal, but you were in no position to complain, you acted in a panic and grabbed whatever was on the way to the exit. 

That being Natasha's grey hoodie and Steve's oversized leather jacket. Both laid untouched, draped over the abandoned conference room chairs. You saw it the moment you stepped out the elevator, peering through the glass walls just to confirm whether it was really their's. It was a given that the room hadn't been cleaned out yet, being that it had been months since anyone has been in there. But then again, only a few people had conformation to that area of the tower. 

Without thinking, you had scanned your hand onto the access pad, and before you knew it, the glass door slid open. A decision you silently curse yourself on now for doing, since there was no doubt about it that Friday had already informed your dad that your last digital encounter was going into that room. You knew how incredibly smart that AI was, so you even made it an effort to take the route with less cameras. Even purposely running around the building, going to useless area's to confuse her in the future before sliding pass an unsupervised emergency exit. 

Despite the fact that it was 1:30 AM, the streets of Manhattan was as lively as ever. Though there was a lot less traffic at this time of the night. It gave you comfort to know that you weren't completely alone walking the streets. You may be skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but at the end of the day, you were still a girl, and that fact alone made you a clear target for some. 

And you doubt you could put up much of a fight, especially with how starved weak (and not to mention injured) you were. You had to be weary of who was around you at all times, stick to crowded areas yet be inconspicuous enough not to be spotted by cameras. As you knew for a fact that Friday was most likely scanning the area. 

Though despite how stress driven the situation was and how fidgety you felt, you weren't completely wandering lost, you had a destination set at mind and it gave you all the hope that you needed to keep moving onward. That location being the small little Chinese restaurant tucked away at a back alley passage seven blocks away from where you were. As you were quite close with the owner, being a regular weekly. So you knew for a fact that if you asked she would let you stay for a couple of days without hesitation. The small cozy family owned business reminded you so much of your old home, back when you still lived with your mother. 

After that night- or more so week spent with Tony, your mother had decided it would be best to stay put in China for a while. Delusions of starting something more than just a hook up with the oh so' brilliant Tony Stark flooded her mind. She wanted to be at arms reach for the man and stay exactly where he left her. Tony told her multiple times over the course of seven days that he'd be back for her, but he never came back... 

As weeks went by your mother had come to the realization that those words were merely nothing but empty promises and drunken slurs. Thus feeding her resentment for the small little child that grew inside her. You weren't a native of China but you were born and raised there up until age eleven or twelve, when your mother passed from cancer. Your childhood for the most part was dry and barren of any affection, having to submit and be degraded to being your mother's personal maid. Despite the mistreatment you had to endure, you couldn't exactly complain because you weren't exactly suffering. You had a roof over your head and all the food and water you could ever want, not to mention access to education. From a young age you had always shown signs of carrying the infamous Stark gene, harboring a profound skill to grasp and master any subject thrown your way. At the age of only six you were already capable of speaking three different languages; English, Chinese, and French. You had all characteristics of being a Stark. 

Except of course the looks.... Which was primarily why Tony didn't believe you were his child to begin with. You knew from the age of twelve that you looked more like your mother rather than your dad, but the contrast was blatantly eye striking next to the man whom was supposed to be your father. You had your mom's features more not to mention her complexion, being that your mother was [your race]. 

(If you're white then imagine y/n is paler or tanner than Tony, I'm Asian so....) 

You had never forgotten the most pivotal and accurate representation of your relationship that unfolded the day you first met... 

🕸🕷🕸 

You ran towards the man stood a few feet away from you, letting go of the woman's hand. Your face beams displaying a blinding smile as you ran towards Tony. 

"Dad!" 

You screamed in joy running towards the male engulfing his mid waist with your arms. The man looked down at you in a fright, his brows furrowing together as he looked at the Stark family lawyer and the social worker. 

He gently yet assertively pulls your arms off of him, not sparing you a glance as you looked up in question. 

"Are you sure she's mine?" 

Your heart drops at that moment as all becomes clear... The smile no longer present on your face as you looked down and distanced yourself away from Tony. Something no one took notice of. 

"We've already done a DNA test on her sir and she's yours..." The social worker lady spoke timidly, clutching her files tightly. 

"Well do two more tests, god damn it!" 

Tony screamed causing you to flinch slightly. A prickling sensation of shame washing over you as you watched him begins to pace, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands in distress. 

"Come here sweetie, let's go get you something to eat, you must be hungry from your flight." 

A woman with ginger hair spoke lightly as she forced out a smile, extending her hand for you before glaring at the man when you took her hold. 

"I want a cheese burger...." 

She nodded briefly, pulling you away from the scene and straight towards the elevator. 

🕸🕷🕸 

And at that day was when you realized that things were only going to get more complicated from there. Because the first moment that you both met, he had already decided that he didn't want you. 

Though contrary to his primal feelings, you were very much aware of your fathers attempts in searching for you, even though it had only been forty five minutes since the fight. It was reassuring but, you weren't in the mood to awe about it. You were still mad at him, and had zero plans of forgiving him any time soon. Or returning any time soon... You wanted him to worry and loose sleep, it was petty but it would be a mere compensation for the suffering he put you through. 

You brush pass a halted group of people, no more than twelve, lightly shoving pass them irritably. Slightly annoyed with their odd behavior, as they all seemed to be watching something you couldn't care less about. You let out an inaudible scoff, as you walked passed them. Your attention devoted to unwrapping the bubble gum you had in hand. Harshly shoving the minty treat into your mouth before putting your bandaged hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. You heaved in relief, finally giving your roaring stomach a somewhat rest after fourteen hours of starvation. The gum was probably months old by now since you found it in Nat's hoodie, but you couldn't care less. It was only meant to sustain your hunger for twenty more minutes. 

You walk at a leisurely pace, stopping slightly to push the pedestrian button at the cross walk. You watched as multiple cars pass by, rolling your eye irritably as you hear the crowd of people gasp in awe again. You normally weren't so easily agitated, but you're currently having a hard time figuring out just what your new normal would be from now on... Tapping your foot on the concrete pavement, you wished time would speed up. 

"What do you think is happening up there?" 

"Who knows" 

"Maybe he's just testing out his new suits.' 

With that, you freeze all movements. It was as if everything stilled at the command of one word. You were scared shitless of all the possibilities it could be, not knowing whether you were willing to look or not, but your anxiety was killing you. Feeling it increase at every breath, taunting you like marionettes on a string, dearing you to look, only to scream no just afterwards. With an in take of air, you pushed back those thoughts and slowly, you turned to view what all the fuss was about. Gasping in shock and horror at the sight infront of you. 

He was insane. 

There stood the Stark tower tall and proud, being lit up like a firecracker with multiple yellow streaks of light ejecting from the building. It looked as though hundreds of missiles were being fired into the air, contrasting the twilight sky. Even with the skyscrapers that surrounded the tower, the sight demanded all the attention. No, those weren't missiles...  

They behaved too smart to be simply just that. And you knew better than to dismiss them so easily. Multiple flew in every direction, some swirling around the tower, and others going straight up. There was at least two or four going north and south, while a dozen takes off headed east and west. It looked as though someone was celebrating New Years early, and doing so extravagantly, except it was the middle of fall... 

The sight was beautiful you couldn't deny that, but you were confused as to what exactly that could mean. Was it meant for you? Was he calling you back? Was that his version of an Amber alert? Or maybe they celebrating that you were finally gone... Images of Pepper, Tony, and Peter celebrating your leave quickly flash through your mind, stabbing you in the back ones more. Quickly, you shake them out of your head, returning your attention once again to the event in front of you. Your brows pulled together in question before it officially clicked. Hitting you hard like a brick, demolishing the wall of protection you built around yourself to stop the flood of overwhelming emotions. Feeling a small tug in your chest, the numbness that guarded your heart slowly dispersed as anxiety crept up your spine. 

He had unleashed the entirety of his Iron Legion's to search for you. 

All 108 suits.... 

Without thinking, you quickly crouched down, seeing one flying low into the street, right towards you. Your hood fell from a gust of wind as your hair blew all around. You screw your eyes tightly, covering your ears at a loud swooshing sound invading your eardrums. Thankfully, it flew pass you. You ignored the cheering of the crowd, quickly trying to run and sprint into an underground sub station. Turning back one last time, only to be greeted by more iron suits taking off from the tower. You frantically focusing your eyes, seeing a blue and red figure swinging from a far. 

      Peter....  

As luck may have it, he swung left, following a completely different road. 

And with that, you ran. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, frantically looking for the 99th street substation opening so that you could hide underground. 

Cut short gasps of panic erupt from your mouth as you hurriedly ran across the street. You closed your eyes tight, feeling tears forming and falling down your face. Oh no, not now... Cold frost bitten air hits your skin as you maneuver yourself around bystanders. Not now, not now, not now. The tears fell more frequently as you squeezed your eyes shut once more. 

You were not going to send yourself into and anxiety attack, not now, and not because of this. 

Your running comes to a halt as you stand exactly where you're supposed to be, eyes quickly looking around in search for the station opening. 

There! 

In a fright, damp cold sweats engulfs your body as you enter and ran down the steps, out from above ground sight. You jump over the turnstile, panting from the tiredness as you took note of how soar your legs were becoming. You gulp, chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked around to see if anyone saw your odd behavior. And to your surprise the station was completely empty, odd... Though that could very well be because the scheduled 1:40 train had just took off fifteen minutes ago. You moved with hesitation and weariness as you looked around for any person in sight. Silently, you plopped yourself down onto a steel bench, trying desperately for your breathing to calm down. 

You didn't know how long it had been or how much time passed since you've sat down, but you stayed put fidgeting for what seemed like hours. Your thighs bounced anxiously as you kept an eye out for any short of movement, the dimly lit grimy station gave you an on edge feeling and it didn't sit right in your stomach. You felt like you were being watched from all sorts of corners and you shook it off as anxiety but something told you to stay guarded. 

Your ears would perk from time to time, hearing loud gusts of winds and cheering from above ground, ensuring the fact that your father's search party wasn't going away anytime soon. 

You hear movement coming in, snapping out of your haze as you felt a presence sit beside you. You peer up meekly in curiosity before gasping in shock and horror at who the person was. 

      Brock Rumlow.... 

"Long time no see little Stark." He spoke voice raspy and sinister as you cringe at the sight of his face. There, half of his profile was burnt and agitated red as one of his eyes was completely titanium white, you figured he was blind there. Wanda really did a number on him as you all suspected that she had killed him.... 

Little Stark.... That was something only Fury called you... 

You swallow in fear as you notice five more men appearing suddenly. You suddenly felt incredibly hyper aware of the situation, your vision tunneling as your heart rate increases. This was really happening... 

"I've waited a long time for this kid... knock her out!" 

Before you could scream in distress a throbbing pain consumes the back of your skull, and then everything turned black...

_____________

I owe you guys an explanation, and to put it simply, I was depressed and felt unmotivated so I took a lot of time to myself... I wasn't aware that so many people were expecting a follow up to a stupid little story I had written in April... I am without of words and am absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of support and love you all have given me. Yet the feeling of being pressured to write came with the notion of so much positivity, thus tainting it. I can't promise when the second half of part two will come out, but know that it is coming......

Tag List:

@spacebitch2 @babebenhardy @notasofti @blowing-mikey @juliae03 @starlight-starks @fivesecondsofsarang @ssebstann @lunaticbarnes @kye06 @jbtomlinson-blog @spideylovin @juliet-winterson @emilymarie0422 @emborrachada @marvel-is-a-mood @used-avocado @cherrysruin @watson-emma @songofcosplay @spideypooler03 @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @honeymarvel @ariethlyn9 @unbelievableholland @ilovepeterparker13 @usedtobepettyonly @zalladane @freelynerdlygirly @hotpocket01 @hothw22 @itsteph13 @lostredrobin @mydoctorwho13 @littleninjablake @it-sel @holywater-burns @charismas-world @tylers-ankles-beebos-forehead @flowerchild1216 @spideynugget @the-frnkiero @misshale21 @galaxystern08 @alyssam71 @ghostmaster83 @its-shaula-wii @crying-perfectstorm @bubblegumbarnes @well-this-is-just-awkward

Closed Tag List

[seraphdreams]

greengreengreen

warnings : smut, fem!reader, drunk sex, suna being a bit of a jerk at the end, college AU

wc - 2.8k

a/n - this was originally gonna be a football!au but i got lazy and changed it back to volleyball

There’s cheering heard from the end of the hallway in the spacious university. Loud whooping and chants were heard as your classmates ran up to the commotion. You continued walking foreward at your steady pace, avoiding the crowd. “Look! The volleyball team is back!” You hear a student exclaim. You pause in your tracks, throat suddenly dry. You swallow, eyes growing wide as you lock orbs on the tall newbie the volleyball team welcomed. His eyes were like a fox’s, narrow and uninterested.

The way the jersey he has on enunciates his long toned torso, has you in awe. He seemed not to care about the praise and applause he was getting but instead taking out his cloth and wiping his forehead with the towel previously draped around his neck.

Your white haired best friend came up to you from the herd, suddenly looking at you in confusion. waving a hand in front of your face. A trance, is what you’re in. Just a split second of eye contact with what you’d describe as the prettiest man you’ve ever seen had you flustered. His allure was so daunting, leaving you almost speechless.

“Hey, Y/N. Hello? Guess what?” You snap out of your thoughts, looking up at Kita. He was also on the football team. His hair was drenched in sweat and face flushed pink. You cock your head to side, a response to his question. “We won the game, and that new second year is amazing!” He continues. “New second year? The one you were just thinking about? He’s....amazing? Is that why he was getting so much attention?” You think to yourself. Once again you were brought back to reality by Kita, clapping his hand to get your attention.

“Oh! Sorry, i was just wondering, when did he get on the team?” You question, straightening up at the loud clasp of his hands. The team finally got through the hallway, walking past you and Kita. He looks to the side, noticing the slow walking brunette. As soon as the man is in the same radius as Kita, he pulls him by the arm, yanking him into the conversation. He was slightly crouching under the shorter’s grip on his arm.

“He’s been on the team for a few weeks, this is Suna Rintarō. He scored us 12 points at tonight’s game.” Kita announces, Suna straightening up as Kita’s grip loosens. Your heart beats faster, feeling as if it’s going to burst out of your chest. “Hi, i’m Y/N” You say in a soft voice. He raises his eyebrows in affirmation, looking at you deep in your eyes.

Kita observes your body language, the way you held your hands behind your back, squeezed your thighs at the look Rintarō gave you, and licked your lips as you looked up at him with “innocent” eyes. Kita whispers something in his ear, Suna walking away a few seconds later. “It’s kinda late, isn’t it? Want me to walk you to your dorm?” Kita progresses. You nod your head and walk side by side out of the now empty hallway.

“‘Samu, i’m telling you, that’s my shoe!” You hear a loud voice from the outdoor courtyard. You spot Atsumu, obviously fighting with his twin. As you and Kita crept closer on your commute to the dorms, he scolded, “Twins! Cut that out!” Osamu and Atsumu halt then straighten out their clothes, scoffing at one another. “I swear they still act like they’re still in high school” Kita says with a chuckle. Pretty scenery of the campus went by as you and Kita continue to chat on your way to the dorms.

It was your second year of university. Kita’s been your best friend since your first year of highschool when you decided to become the manager of their volleyball team. He was so nice and a great person to talk to about whatever, always listening and giving the best advice. You both grew closer as the years progressed, instantly becoming best friends.

You’re in the same grade as the twins, having been with them since your first year as well. They were your source of entertainment and gossip. That’s why you were a bit confused how they never told you about the rookie. “Looks like we’re here.” You say looking at the room number on your dorm. Warm arms wrap around your shoulders as Kita pulls you in for a sweaty hug, flashing a smile at you before leaving toward his own dorm. “Ugh Shinsuke!” You joke opening the door to your room and carefully stepping in.

_________

After a long shower, you work on your school work, still in a towel. You decided to finish a few math problems, chewing at the end of the pen. There was no need to do work now, it was the Friday and the you could relax all weekend, maybe drink some wine. You check your phone. A message from Osamu catches your eyes.

There’s a house party a few minutes away. Wanna come with me?

A party didn’t seem to bad at the moment, you were already showered and hadn’t gotten dressed, having fun won’t hurt. You text him back a “sure”. You weren’t necessarily a party person, only clinging to the people you knew, but maybe you’d step out of your comfort zone. You search through a mess of clothes piled on your chair, stuffed in your drawer, and under your bed, until you found the perfect outfit. Something short. You put on makeup, spraying loads of setting spray to make sure you don’t sweat it off.

You slipped on your shoes and pranced to the door and down the hallway. You look both ways frantically, waiting to see a familiar face. Finally, you see a silhouette of the twins walking towards you. Atsumu held keys in his hand, jingling at every step he made. Once they were visible and in a close enough distance, Osamu cleared his throat. “We have to wait for someone else.” He stated. “Who?” You ask in curiosity, thinking it could be Kita or Aran.

You hear a door unlock from the back of the hall, the man was walking slowly looking down at his phone.

From where you were standing it looked like he was wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. “Suna! Hurry the fuck up!” Atsumu yells. He looks up from his phone and slowly jogs up to him. You felt your heart pulsate the same way it did before. “Suna was coming? Why didn’t Osamu tell me?” you ask yourself. Once Suna caught up with the group, you all walked out the dorm hall and down the stairs.

It was a long quiet walk from the courtyard to the student parking lot, Suna being on his phone and the twins not speaking.

Atsumu found his car and unlocked the door, him driving with ‘Samu in the passenger seat and you and Suna in backseats. You strapped yourself in, everyone else following suit. Osamu hooks his phone up to aux cord, playing his playlist.

The rod was about 15 minutes long. ‘Tsumu pulls up to a large house on an almost abandoned street. There were lights flashing, seen from the windows and reflecting outside. You could see people outside with drinks in their hands, laughing at whatever nonsense they were talking about.

You look over at an unamused Suna, still looking down at his phone. “Who’s the designated driver?” Osamu questions. Atsumu raises his eyebrows and turns to his twin, eyes lighting up. “No. I don’t trust you” His twin replies, sitting back in the seat, arms folded. “I promise i’ll stay sober ‘Samu!” He pouts childishly. Osamu scoffs in response unbuckling his seatbelt. The group treads out of the car. You fix your outfit as you close the door to Atsumu’s black 2019 Dodge Charger.

You walk behind the group, keeping your eyesight fixated on the broad back of the brunette in front of you. Atsumu opens the door. You’re greeted with loud music, a blend of different bodies, and on your far right, tall stairs with a few people sitting down at the front. Nobody you knew was there except for the company you came with. You walk to the least crowded place, the drink table. You weren’t really a heavy drinker, but a shot or two wouldn’t hurt in helping you loosen up. The air suddenly smelt of a heavy masculine scent.

“Do you know what you’re drinking?” The deep, quiet voice says. You turn your head, meeting his chest then looking into his eyes. It was Suna. You nod and point to the label written on the bottle, “vodka”. He chuckles, a breathy laugh erupting from his throat. You smile at his expression, a little confused.

“What?”. He sets his drink down on the counter and puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You look a little bit lightweight, and there’s a lot of alcohol in your cup.” You scoff, putting the cup to your lips, inhaling the green apple taste, shuddering at the burning sensation that comes afterwards. The boy you thought was quiet wasn’t as quiet as you thought.

You lock your eyes on the snake tattoo that wrapped around his lower neck then disappeared under his shirt. He caught your examining eyes then looked over your head, a hungry Osamu stuffing his face with hors d’oeuvres. “What does that tattoo mean?” You ask. Rintaro inhales, then takes a sip from his drink. “I forgot. I got it when i was really high” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. You look up at his slit-like eyes, they glowed green, obvious evil intent behind them. You look down at the now empty cup in your hands. “Damn, you finished that fast” He says, eyes wide as he peers at the red cup in your hand. He finished the drink in his hand soon after, as to one-up you.

The conversation went on for what felt like hours. You grew more and more intoxicated as the minutes passed. The bass in the music throbbing in your head. Everything that came out of Suna’s mouth sounded slurred. You nodded at every noise you could comprehend. In the blink of an eye, he was no longer in front of you. You felt a large hand wrap around your waist, tugging on the fabric of your shirt. You felt swaying motions behind you.

The heartbeat of the figure prodding aggressively against your head. The music was slower, sensual even. You try to reach for your phone in your bag, haziness fogging over your mind. A hard grip on your arm knocks you out of your daze. You felt hard pulling, trying to look up at who was dragging you up the stairs. To your surprise, it was Rintarō. As you ascend up the stairs, you pass rooms. Suna checks the locks on each of the doors then opens the door of finally unlocked room in the middle of the hall.

The room was dark with only the pale moonlight shining through the window, insinuating the unholy bright green glint in his eyes. He motions for you to lay on the bed. You do as told, not sure why.

He kneels in front of you, wrapping his rough hands around your thighs and spreading them away, face to face with your cunt. He groans at the sight. “Are you a virgin?” He questions, snapping you out of the lust that was growing in your core. You shyly nod your head. “Do you want me to continue?” He solicits, looking up at you. You nod your head slowly.

He wraps his limber fingers around the waistband of your bottoms, pulling them down along with your underwear, a string of slick connecting your garments with your warm body. Another groan slips from his mouth, “So pretty.”

He attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and licking the bud. You arch your back, fisting the sheets beneath you. His gaze into your eyes like needles piercing your skin, sharp. He uses his skilled tongue to lap around your slit, dipping in and out. The cries you let out are loud, causing him to slow down his pace. He removes his lips from your cunt. They were glossed in your slick. He licks his lips then presses a thick finger into your hole. You yelp in surprise, gasping as he brutally finger fucks you. You tangle your hands in his dark brown locks, crying out words like “please” and “fuck”. He slips in another digit in no remorse for your poor tight cunt. The way he curls his fingers inside you while thumbing your clit has you in pure ecstasy.

You hiccup as you feel your orgasm pooling through you. He sucks the creamy liquid you left on his fingers. A vexatious smile on his face as he stands up and towers over your small frame.

“I want you to take all of me.” He demands. You look down at the growing bulge in his jeans the back up at him. You whimper at the sight, scared for your hole. He leans over to meet your eyes. He places sloppy kisses on your lips, using his tongue to part your lips. You scratch at his back as he deepens the kiss by pressing his tongue against yours. You kiss back letting him take control. He runs his lips down your jaw, meeting your neck.

He sinks his sharp canines into your neck harshly sucking on the flesh. He leaves little love bites all the way down to your chest. He stands back and looks at your abused body, proud of the work he’s done. He slides his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor next to your bottoms. The snake tattoo you previously seen before looks more prominent now, more dangerous. You lean back, spreading your legs wider as he pulls his cock out from his jeans. He strokes a few times before aligning it with your drooling cunt

He slowly glides the tip in, sucking his teeth at the way you clench around the fat head. You wince at the pain. He tries pushing in once again, you getting tighter at each advance. He reaches his hand over to your thigh, rubbing the skin in small circles. “Breathe.” He whispers in spite to soothe you. You deeply inhale then exhale. Suna pushes halfway through, groaning at the feeling. An image of your smile flashes through his mind, the way you made him feel warm. “Hey?” He questions. You look up at him, confused by the childlike grin on his face.

“What’s red and shaped like a bucket?” Rintarō jokes. You shoot him a confused look. “i don’t know.” You say. “A red bucket.” The laugh you let out was quickly cut off by a sharp inhale. He thrusted his full length inside your cunt. “Sorry” He apologizes apathetically. You mewl at his dangerously fast pace inside you. It hurts but the pain was soon overridden by pleasure. He rubs your clit in harsh circles. You slip your hand under your shirt to play with your nipples.

A soft moan escapes from your core. The bliss was immense, leaving you breathless as he continued to bruise your cervix with his terribly accurate thrusts. You couldn’t take too much of it before you felt your core heat up. The pleasure ran through your whole body, attacking all of your nerves. You felt numb, mumbling and babbling unintelligible words.

“Good girl, you take me so well” He praises, pressing down on the bulge visible in your stomach. You moan at his words, trembling from the orgasm that’s about to crash through you. “Su-“ You try to let out. “I’m gonna cum!” You mewl, trying to sound as audible as possible. You wrap your hands around his wrist while arching your back. Hot liquid splashes his lower abdomen, coating his cock with your cream.

“Fuck, you squirted” He gasps, chasing his own high. The overstimulation leaves you tired and unable to respond to his thrusts. His thighs tense as he nears his orgasm. He sprays his warm seed in your cunt, painting the walls white. You both pant as you catch your breaths.

He tucks his cock back into his pants and grabs his shirt on the floor, putting it on. He tosses you your bottoms. “How does it feel to be bred your first time?” He mocks. The green glow in his eyes came back, more vibrant than ever. He leaves the room, leaving you to clean yourself up. You laid in the bed for a while, a text from Osamu waking you up from almost dozing off.

Come outside, we’re leaving

You trot downstairs, collecting your things and meeting the twins at the car. Atsumu looked to be out of it completely, Suna recording and laughing. It seemed like you and Rintarō became strangers again, he didn’t acknowledge you at all. Osamu was driving this time. You opened the door and sat on the seat, seeing Suna glued to his phone once again. There was complete silence the whole ride back, except Atsumu talking to himself.

You leaned your head back on the seat and fell asleep.

[j-amespotter]

★ cardigan - s. b.

“i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.” 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: Your relationship with Sirius is on the rocks, but you loved him and at the end of the day, he was always there. For your own happiness, something had to change. 

Genre/Warnings: angst, alcohol, language, toxic relationship 

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: this took a lot, and i mean a lot of energy. not sure how i feel about it (i am my worst critic) but i really didn’t want a pushover protagonist. ps... communicating with your partner is hot! let me know what you think (and if you think i should make a taglist) :) 

masterlist

“Ravenclaw girl this time. Blonde… I think I recognize her. Couldn’t see the front of her robes, she might be one of the fifth-year prefects. You know I’m terrible with names. Ask James, he finds it hilarious.”

“You should work for the Prophet, Lils,” you said, without looking up from your toast, which was becoming more and more tasteless with every bite. “What were they doing?” 

“Talking,” answered Lily pointedly. “He ended the conversation fairly quickly when he saw me looking, though.” 

You sighed. This discussion was becoming too routine for your liking, most often with Lily, occasionally with Remus. “Well, if they were just talking, then I don’t see the issue. Lily, it is early. We have double Potions this morning. I really don’t want to deal with your weird suspicions about my boyfriend right now.” 

If Lily sensed your underlying irritation, she chose to ignore it. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all. I mean, James–” 

You finally turned and stared defiantly into your best friend’s vibrant green eyes. “Lily, I hate to break it to you, but James is the exception, not the rule. Just because he’s some angel on earth doesn’t mean all boyfriends are like that, and that’s not even considering the fact that he’s been hopelessly in love with you since second year…” 

Huffing, Lily picked at the fruit off of her plate. “Okay, I get it. I won’t bring it up again.” It was sweet how much Lily cared. James doted on her day and night. It would have been easy to forget about her friend’s love-related quandaries. But that was Lily Evans – always considerate of others.

Truthfully, you were tired. You knew what ‘talking’ with Sirius Black entailed. It did not make you feel as secure as you indicated to Lily. As time went on, it was getting increasingly harder to defend Sirius’s overly-careless behavior. If he wasn’t chatting up girls in random corners of the castle, he stood you up on your scheduled study dates in favor of detention with James. There was only a little comfort in the fact that he wasn’t always like this. If he was, would you have even dated him? Deep down, you knew that as much as Sirius was a thrill-chaser, he was incredibly capable of being a loving boyfriend. For that reason alone, you bore the incredibly painful motions of being in a relationship with him. 

He briefly reminded you of his better qualities when you opened your Potions textbook and felt a feathery kiss on your neck. “Guess who?” whispered Sirius sultrily into your ear. 

You couldn’t help the automatic flush that made its way onto your cheeks. “Hmm… is it Remus?” you whispered back, stifling a giggle. 

“Don’t tease,” he grunted before planting a swift kiss on your cheek. He plopped onto the chair next to you and faced you with a lazy grin. “You look disappointed, love. I’m afraid your usual Potions partner is a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He gestured across the room, where you spotted Lily practically hanging off of James’s lap, distracting herself until the start of her favorite class with his lips. 

“They’re hopeless,” you commented airily, in an attempt to disguise your envy. You felt Sirius’s gaze burning into you. “Missed you at breakfast this morning,” you added in a casual tone.

“Oh, well, you know–” 

“No, I don’t know,” you interrupted, bitterness leaking from your clipped voice. You always let Sirius off too easily. “But I certainly can’t wait to hear your ready-made list of vague excuses. Please, do continue.” There. He had it coming. He deserved for you to throw him off track.

“Baby, it was nothing,” assured Sirius rather predictably. “Just Pippa asking for help with Transfiguration. Honest.” He placed a hand on his heart in mock sincerity, which only angered you further. 

Nevertheless, you chose not to argue. He was incredibly brilliant with his words. There was no way he would understand your plight. Instead, you absentmindedly flipped through your Potions textbook as Slughorn finally entered his unruly classroom. 

Sirius seemed uncharacteristically bothered by your lack of response. With a half-glance at James and Lily, he entwined his fingers into yours. “They’re in their honeymoon phase, you know. You really can’t compare.” 

“There is no comparison, Sirius. James prioritizes Lily. I can’t remember the last time you prioritized me,” you whispered. There was a finality in your tone that you hoped he would hear. It was the most you were willing to discuss the matter. 

Sirius Black was a lot of things, least of all oblivious. He gently squeezed your hand. Silently, he slipped his fingers out of yours, choosing to follow your lead and not pursue the issue any further. 

A part of you was proud of the fact that you finally found it in you to voice your concerns to him, but another larger part dreaded the irreversible distance it put between the two of you for the rest of the day. You weren’t necessarily avoiding each other. Though his smiles were significantly more tender, he seemed reluctant to talk, let alone touch you.

Sick of the mental torment you were subjecting yourself to, you stuffed your unfinished Charms essay into your bag and headed to your dormitory, choosing to retire for bed early. Mid-yawn, you spotted a single red rose on your unmade bed. You didn’t have to read the attached note to know who it was from but felt your heart thudding against your chest as you unfolded the small piece of parchment. 

I’m sorry. I love you. 

There was no signature, but you could recognize his meticulously-slanted script anywhere. You stared at the note adoringly before pressing your lips to the corner of the crumply parchment and marking it with the remnants of your lip gloss. 

Suddenly, you were no longer tired. Skipping down the stairs, you found yourself wishing for a certain map that would tell you the exact location of the only person you wanted to see.

Fate seemed to be on your side when you saw him in the common room, his head bowed as if he was praying. “You’re here!” 

He gazed up at you, his shoulders relaxing when he noticed the smile on your face. “I’m really–” 

You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him hard, throwing your arms around his neck. You felt him smile against your lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him. “Don’t worry about it. I was being silly.” 

Sirius’s grin widened. “You’re quite low maintenance, y’know. I thought it would take at least a week and a hundred roses. And if not roses, then daisies, sunflowers, peonies… I was ready to pull all the stops. For future reference, a good snog is all it takes to win me over.” 

You laughed heartily, though you struggled to keep up with his train of thought. You always appreciated his good-natured ability to poke fun at the gravest circumstances. “I just missed you.” 

“Me too, darling. I’ll do better this time, I promise.” 

☆

True to his word, Sirius showered you with a level of affection that could rival James’s for Lily. He spent every spare moment with you in his bed, sneaking into the kitchen for secret dinners, and pushing you against bookshelves in the back of the library, homework-be-damned.

On Tuesday night, you sat on the Astronomy Tower. You glanced at your watch, realizing that Sirius was nearly an hour late. Your eyelids were drooping shut. It had been a long day. Everything in your brain felt scattered. You could’ve been catching up on the mounds of schoolwork you were now falling behind on. Sirius… Did he say midnight? Did you hear him correctly? Maybe he meant for you to pencil it in. Maybe he was hurt. Was it Remus? You stared at the sky, peering at the crescent shape of the moon. It taunted you. Stop kidding yourself. He’s not coming. 

Just as you were about to call it a night, Sirius stumbled into the Tower and onto the floor. Startled, you helped him up. “There you are! Are you alright? I was so worried… Are you drunk?” 

His grey eyes shone in the soft moonlight. The cloudy expression on his face paired with the sloppy grin he sent your way spoke for him. “Lost track of time… we snuck into Hogsmeade,” he slurred. “Rosmerta slipped us some firewhiskey. Here, I brought us a bottle...” He reached into his robes, only to come out empty-handed. “Uh-oh… finished it. Sorry, baby.”

You processed his words very slowly, realization dawning on you with the weight of heavy bricks. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

“Hey! We’re all of age.” He threw up his hands in surrender and widened his eyes innocently. “Next time, darling. I promise.” 

“It’s not about the fucking drink, Sirius! You’re here so you obviously haven’t forgotten that we had plans tonight! I don’t care if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but you should’ve told me. I’ve been waiting here like an idiot for an hour. I’m exhausted!”

“Told you,” he grumbled, now irritated, “we lost track of time.” 

You stared at him, unable to comprehend his complete shift in attitude. “Whatever,” you said finally. “I’m going to bed.” 

Spinning on your heels, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you prepared to march away from him with your chin up. Before you could take too many steps, however, a firm hand grasped your wrist. The intensity of the force pulling you back to him felt so otherworldly that you could hardly believe it was a wasted Sirius. 

You had a fleeting thought of pushing him away but instead tilted your head so he could pepper kisses onto the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again, between his fluttering pecks along your jawline. 

His lips found yours. His hand released your limp wrist as his fingers gently trailed up your arm. “So beautiful,” he murmured, gazing directly into your eyes. You practically melted as your body fell into his. Like always, his arms were ready to catch you, drunk or otherwise. 

☆

“No Sirius yet?” asked your mother, sipping her drink cheerily.

You refused to look her in the eye in fear of giving something away. “No, not yet. Should be here soon, though.” 

“Better be,” said your father, slipping away from a party guest. “He’ll miss cake.”

It was your parents’ twentieth-anniversary party, an occasion made doubly special as their one and only daughter was now officially a Hogwarts graduate. You had planned the party and made Sirius promise that he would not only attend, but also arrive early to help greet your guests as your boyfriend. 

You knew that your parents did not initially approve of Sirius, but as your relationship strengthened, so did Sirius’s standing in your family. Now, post-Hogwarts, you were desperate to not only show your parents that the two of you were committed to one another but also feel yourself that your love would endure the many challenges of adulthood. 

As the last of your family friends trickled out of your childhood home, you failed to hide your disappointment at his loud absence. Like many months earlier, your mind see-sawed between possibilities, some pathetic, others worrying. You were in the middle of a war, after all. You always believed Sirius’s recklessness would be his downfall. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, your worries subsided when you saw him slip into the parlor with a present in hand and a sheepish smile directed at you and your parents. “Happy anniversary! Sorry I’m late, you won’t believe– hey, where’s the party?” 

“It’s over,” you announced bitterly. 

Your mum and dad sensed the tension and tactfully exited the room. “We saved you some cake, dear,” your mother said to Sirius, after politely thanking him for his present. 

“So,” you started as you heard your parents’ footsteps fade away, “where were you? Actually, don’t answer that. Let me talk first. This was important to me, Sirius. You knew that! What will I say to Mum and Dad? Don’t I matter to you at all? Is it always going to be like this?” 

“Slow down,” whispered Sirius. “I’ll explain everything – just listen! I was with James, okay? We were only mucking around on the bike. I was on the way, I swear! But then these Muggle Aurors – police, they’re called – they started chasing us! We were getting away but these three blokes – Death Eaters – caught up to us. Long story short, we got into quite a scuffle and…” He looked at you in an attempt to gauge your reaction. 

Your mouth hung open as you absorbed his story. Regardless of your anger, he presented a legitimate case for himself that you could not quash. “Death Eaters? Thank Merlin you’re alright. How on earth did you get away?” 

“I’ll tell you everything. Your mum mentioned something about cake?”

You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. “In the kitchen,” you answered softly. “I wish you would be more careful.” 

He kissed your temple. “Don’t worry,” said Sirius dismissively, “I handled it, didn’t I?” 

☆

“So, what do you think?” 

You and Sirius were standing in the middle of his new studio flat. Primely-located and newly-furnished, it was the picture-perfect bachelor pad. Sirius now had a place to call his own, thanks to a bountiful inheritance from his Uncle Alphard. The walls were bare and the lighting dim, adding an overall sensuality to the atmosphere. 

“It’s nice,” you remarked sincerely, smoothing his plain black bed sheets. You peeked into his wardrobe, smirking to yourself as you noticed it was half-empty. “Lost the rest of your clothes, babe?” 

“No,” answered Sirius quietly. “It’s for you.”

“What is?” 

“The closet space. It’s for your clothes.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“For when I come to visit,” you amended automatically. 

You turned to see Sirius scratching the back of his head. “No, for when you live here. With me.” 

“W-What?” Your mind was reeling. You leaned against his side table to steady yourself. “Me? Move in with you?” 

“Well… yeah,” said Sirius as he slowly regained his signature confidence. “We’ve been together for ages, seems about right. Besides, James and Lily are getting a place together.” 

You did not understand why you weren’t over the moon. It was what you always wanted from him – a tell-tale symbol of his otherwise-flaky commitment to you, a sign of your sparkling love. It was the beginning of the next chapter of your lives, and you were meant to start it together. On paper, it was perfect. There was no explanation for the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

Suddenly, the words that would never come were on the tip of your tongue. The answer was clear as day. “No.” 

“What?” 

It was an extremely difficult task to catch Sirius Black off-guard, a feat you used to motivate your argument. “No, Sirius. I won’t move in with you.” 

Shock was written all over his face. “What the hell? Why?” 

“Because… you didn’t even ask me!” 

Sirius stared at you blankly for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Alright… (Y/N), will you please do me the honor of sharing an address with me? Is that it, then? Shall I get down on one knee?” 

“No, Sirius. That’s not the point,” you said firmly. “The point is that you didn’t ask me. You just assumed that I would say yes – don’t interrupt. I know we’ve been together for years, but can’t you see? You make me so incredibly happy and yet, so unbelievably unhappy at the same time. You’re so good to me, and then so horrible, and then amazing again… I can hardly keep up anymore. I’m a fucking doormat and I’m sick of it! It’s humiliating. I’m tired of feeling humiliated in front of people I care about. It’s starting to become too high a price of being in love with you.” 

You ended shakily, afraid to look at him. When you dared, you saw him wearing an unfamiliar expression. The silence washed over you both for an eternity. You had the horrible thought that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, you crossed a line. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how broken you both were, how broken you were, and now… well, he couldn’t unsee it now. You were over. Without a word, you headed for the door with your head down.

“Wait,” shouted Sirius hoarsely. “Don’t go. I-I’m not sure what to say to make you stay.”

“Try being honest,” you whispered weakly. 

He swallowed nervously. “Okay, here goes. I know that I haven’t put enough effort into this relationship… I know that. I realize that I take you for granted and that you deserve better. I don’t blame you for thinking that. I would never have blamed you for thinking that. But here’s the truth – I am so far gone when it comes to you, you have no idea. I am so in love with you. I think about you morning, noon, and night. And the thing is, here we are, fighting for Muggles and Muggleborns and the good of the world… but above all, I am so utterly afraid of losing you. I think that’s why, actually. That’s why I keep you at arm’s length. I don’t think I mean to, but it just happens. Because I’ve never met anyone who loves me as much as you do, not even my mother. Especially not my mother. I’m torn between keeping you close and pushing you away because the truth is, you’ll always deserve better than me. And I’ve always been afraid of you realizing that.”

His truth was careful but sincere. Your hand slipped off the doorknob. Still, it was not the first time Sirius had rendered you speechless. “How do I know you mean it? That it’s more than just words to you?”

“Let me prove it to you,” he said meaningfully, grey eyes glistening. 

You took slow steps toward him, and he embraced you with the hope of filling all the gaps he may have left open. “Okay,” you said, your voice muffled into his shirt. “Just… leave the closet half-empty for a little while.” 

[caesaryoulater]

For the Record - Chapter 6

Bucky Barnes x F!Librarian Reader - Musician AU

Chapter 6

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Rating: 18+ only. Please do no interact if you’re a minor

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Bucky struggles as the tour draws closer.

Content: Language. Drinking/being drunk. Anxious Bucky.

A/N: This is the start of some shit... so uh. Sorry in advance? But there will also be some more fun shenanigans upcoming. Also... hey! It’s been a while...whoops.

Masterlist|Series Masterlist

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Nat is pouring a drink for a customer when you walk in the door.  

You slink onto one of the stools and grin sheepishly at her. It's been a few days since you’ve even called her. The past few days have gone pretty much the same. Work, dinner with Bucky, sex, cuddling and watching movies or tv. And maybe some more sex. “To be fair, I’m still here for our usual night.” She gives you a look and slaps up a ticket for your cheese fries before getting you a soda. It ended up working out, honestly. Bucky had plans with Steve and was supposed to video chat with the band and management to prepare for rehearsals next week.  

“Mhmm. You and loverboy still taking it slow?” You roll your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I’ll take that as a no.” You fill her in on the past few nights. Luckily there weren’t too many people in the bar on Thursday nights. Just a few regulars that were too drunk too even really comprehend what you were talking about anyway. Nat listened, smirk fully in place on her lips, occasionally refilling a beer. “So, you’re just really into public sex now?”

“To be fair, we didn’t have sex at the restaurant.” You stuff some fries into your mouth.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Seriously, though. I’m happy for you. It’s great to see you taking chances.”

“I take chances.”

“Not like this. How often are your dates making you coffee in your kitchen in the morning? How many of them would you have let?”

“Plenty, if they were interested.”  

She lets out a snort. “Bullshit. You usually choose the ones you know wouldn’t do that shit.” And she was probably right. Even though you’d fall for some of them, it was a more temporary hurt. Imagining something greater, potentially losing something more was terrifying. “I was a little afraid Barnes would be another one of those assholes, but it’s obvious he really likes you.” Fighting off a grin is impossible.  

Nat gets waived down for another drink. You sit and eat your fries, then your phone rings. Speak of the devil.

“Hey!” The two of you hadn’t made solid plans. He had to video chat with the band, prepare for them coming to town next week for rehearsals. If it didn’t go too late, he said he’d call and you could figure things out from there.

“Heeey,” his voice slurred. You’re not sure why, but your heart sank a little. Something felt off. He hadn’t been drunk while he was back. The most he had drank was that first night, and he still hadn’t been drunk.  

“Everything ok?”

“Of course! Are you going t’come see me tonigh?”

“Yeah, I can be there in a bit, I was just finishing up visting Nat.” You honestly weren’t sure what to expect when you got there. But you knew you had to go check on him. Had it been another panic attack? Did the meeting go that bad? You get off the phone with him and Nat’s eyeing you. “He sounds drunk...” There’s no hiding the worry in your voice. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just me being my usual overly concerned self.” Are you assuring her or yourself, you’re not quite sure.

“Mhmm. Well, if you need anything just call. I can figure something else. I doubt these guys will even realize it’s not actually last call.” You give her a half smile. If you did have to call her, you know she’d do anything to be there for you.

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

The call had been going on an hour. An hour of management freaking out. Still grasping at any hope to salvage the situation. An hour of the band being pissed and not being shy about expressing those feelings. And it was time to bust out the whiskey. He tried so hard to be good, to not drink as much. That was the point of all this right? Even before she entered the picture. It’s just too much right now. He sighs as he takes a swig from the bottle.

“What are the plans for next week?” He interrupts the constant back and forth bickering, wanting to just get things ironed out and end the call.

“We’ve got a place booked for practice. The guys will bring the gear Monday.”

“Awesome, then that’s it right?”

John, the tour manager sighs, pinching his nose between his brows. “Sure. Can you at least respond when we text?”

“I’ll think about it.” He ends the call abruptly, barely registering the protests from the others before the video cuts. The screen on his phone reads just after 7, she’d still be at work. It was an odd feeling, feeling like he wanted to call and just talk. Wishing she was here. Instead, he grabs the bottle of whiskey and his guitar, sitting in the chair near the window. He had been working on some new stuff. The first time he had worked on anything not related to the band in a long time. Nothing solid, just some riffs that hadn’t led anywhere yet. A few lyrics scribbled in his notebook. Lyrics that didn’t have anything to do with stereotypical rockstar bullshit. They might not even add up to anything in the end, but at least it was something.

After a few hours, he was drunk and lonely. Part of him almost considered not calling, but his fingers worked faster than his brain. Then he heard her voice sounding excited to hear from him. “Hey!”

You knock on the door to Bucky’s hotel room and wait for him to answer. You hear him stumbling a bit before the door swings open and he’s standing there with a lopsided grin on his face. “Hey, beautiful,” his words slur a little. He pulls you into a kiss and you taste the whiskey on him. You lightly push him back in the room and close the door behind you. “’m glad you’re here. Was feelin a bit lonely,” he smirks, his hand reaching for the hem of your blouse.  

You grab his hand and hold it in yours, your other hand reaching for his face. “Let’s slow down, handsome.” You lead him to the bed and help him sit on the edge. His hands grip your hips as you stand between his legs, pushing his hair back. “I’m gonna get you some water. Then we can order room service and watch a movie?”

He pouts, gripping your hips tighter. “Was hoping for a bit more fun than that.” His hands are wandering, pushing your shirt up. “Get the front desk called on us.”

You chuckle and grab for his hands, keeping them in yours. “How about we go with my plan tonight, and I’ll really owe you tomorrow?”

His eyes light up. “Owe me what?”

Honestly, you hadn’t thought that far. But you were glad he was taking the bait at least. “It’s a surprise.” You can see him contemplating it. It takes him a few seconds, but he nods. You disappear into the bathroom and grab him a glass of water, handing it to him. Grabbing the room service menu, you scoot him over on the bed and climb in next to him. He rests his chin on your shoulder and looks over the menu. It’s obvious he’s not really taking in anything on the page, likely unable to focus. “How about some BLTs and fruit?” Making a decision for him seems like it’s the best course of action. He nods and starts kissing at your shoulder and neck. You sigh both out of slight frustration and not really wanting him to stop. You pull away and turn towards him, pinching his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, holding his gaze on you. “Don’t make me throw you in a cold shower.”  

He sneaks a kiss. “I’ll behave. For now.” You playfully shove him and hand him his glass of water that he had set on the nightstand. As you pick up the phone, he snuggles into you, a sudden softness coming over him you weren’t expecting. You quickly make your order and wrap your arm around him.

“Wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head. The last thing you wanted to do was push him. Especially now. There’s no way of knowing how he’d respond to it. You had to let him come to you when he was ready. You grab the remote and both of you lay back against the pillows. Navigating this situation wasn’t something you were really prepared for; you hope you’re doing it right. Getting him somewhat sober and comfortable seemed like the right choice. You flip through the hotel stations, ultimately deciding on some old sitcom.  

The food gets to the door a lot faster than expected. You tip the server and climb back into the bed, handing over a sandwich to Bucky. As reluctant as he had seemed to the idea, he quickly tore into the sandwich. As if it was the first thing he’s had all day. You set the fruit in between the two of you, eating silently and watching TV. Some of the worry from before had calmed, being replaced by the familiarity you had developed over the last week. But you still hated seeing him like this.  

“What if I’ve made the wrong decision? Fucked everything up?” His voice is quiet; you almost hadn’t heard him. You set down the rest of your sandwich and turn towards him. His eyes look tired.  

“Why do you think you made the wrong decision.”

“What if this is the best I’m capable of? And I just threw it all away.” Tears well up in his eyes and your heart all but breaks.  

“Hey...” you cradle his cheeks in your hands. “You’re so talented Bucky. You’re capable of anything.” He nods but you’re not sure how much he actually believes what you’re saying. “I know you’re scared, and that’s okay, but you’re doing the right thing. If you’ve been this unhappy, it’s best to move on.”

“You’re probably right. I hate feeling like I’m letting people down.”

“Fuck anyone that’s upset with you.” A small smirk appears on his face for a brief second. “I can’t pretend I know the dynamic between your band or management or whoever. But if they cared, they’d realize how much this is affecting you.” You had a feeling you weren’t going to like the band whenever you met them. Assuming you met them. It bothers you that they could sit back and watch this happen. There’s no way they’ve never noticed. “I’ve been able to tell in just a week. And they’ve spent how many years with you?” He pulls you into a hug. “You just need to take this opportunity you’ve given yourself and find what will make you genuinely happy.”

You’re not even sure if you’re helping. If this was just a momentary setback or something worse. He pulls back from the hug and you lean in to kiss his cheek. “I don’t know why you’re so kind to me, but I really appreciate it.”

You press a kiss to his lips. “You’re a great guy and I really like you.”

He sighs and his shoulders relax some. His demeanor shifts, a smirk appearing on his face again. He grabs for the small amount of sandwich left on your plate and stuffs it in his mouth.  

“Feeling better, then?” He nods. “Great, let’s get comfy and get ready for bed.”

His head is killing him. He took it too far. Then he’s aware of the feeling of someone snuggled up next to him. The night before comes rushing back to him. Calling her. Her showing up and the look of worry on her face. His breakdown and her helping him through it as if it was second nature. Shit. He had fucked up.  

She stirs and looks up at him, eyes still heavy with sleepiness. “Good morning.” She kisses his shoulder before sitting up.  

“Morning.” He’s not really sure what to say. He should probably apologize. How is she still here? How is she not annoyed that she had to drop what she was doing to take care of him? “I- I’m really sorry for last night. I got a bit carried away.”

She gives him a weak smile. “There’s no need to apologize. Did the call go bad?”

He sighs and nods. “I’ve been basically avoiding everything, so I think actually having to deal got to me. I’m going to be better.”

“It’s ok. Shit happens. I’m just glad you called me and didn’t try and continue dealing with it on your own.”  

She was too fucking perfect. Guilt crept up. There’s no way he deserves her. What did he do for her that was in any way comparable? “Wait... I’m not keeping you from work, am I?” He looks over at the clock, she should definitely be there by now.

“Oh no. I actually have a program later, so another late night.”  

He nods. That’s the last thing he needed, another thing that he screwed up inadvertently. “What time do you need to be there?”

“At 1. I should probably get home and shower.” She gets out of bed and starts pulling on her clothes. “But I’ll have my phone with me all day. And it’ll just be me after 5 when we close. I’ll be showing a movie for the teens at 7, but I can check in when I can during it.”  

“I can’t keep taking advantage -”

She cuts him off with a lingering kiss. “You’re not.”

“Can I maybe bring you dinner later to make it up?” It felt like the least he could do.  

She nods and grins. “Yeah, that’d be great. I usually take my break after we close, so after 5 would be good.”

“Am I allowed there after close?”

She laughs. “Well, probably not technically, but it’s been overlooked for other staff members significant others, so I doubt it truly matters.” He nods again. “Just text me when you get there and I’ll let you in. And please let me know if you need anything before then, ok?”

“I will.”

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.10

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Ten: Feels Like We Only Go Backwards: A choice is made. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, serious serious angst, disclaimer [& spoiler warning], this chapter is not a happy one. this whole series is a real slow burn.

series masterlist

A/N: as always, thank you for all the love you’re giving this story. we have about six chapters left to the end and words cannot describe how grateful i am to you for sticking with me and my rambling writing. ENJOY !

-

A significant weight was lifted off Spencer’s shoulders the second he told you how he truly felt about you. Actually, it was more the second you said you loved him back.

Even though the two of you distanced yourselves from one another, giving you the space to really think about your future and who you wanted to spend it with, the week that followed the admissions was considerably good.

Yes, the brunette doctor continued to feel uneasy about the situation he put you in. Uneasy about the choice you eventually would have to make. However, as days went by he noticed it didn't seem to bother you. No. You were oddly chirpy and cheerful. Spencer couldn't help but feel like it was because of him.

Like your choice was already made, and that choice was him.

“Do you have plans tonight?” You asked in a hushed tone, slyly glancing around the bullpen to ensure no-one else was paying attention to you and the doctor.

Spencer shook his head. “Not entirely, no.”

Your lips curled into a smile at his response. “So you wouldn’t mind if I came over?” You asked, gently tapping your fingers in a walking motion against his desk. They stopped next to his hand - you could feel it was there, yet you didn't move your fingers further in fear of someone seeing. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Spencer mouth twitched into a pleasant smirk. He should have been nervous, what if you were going to break the news you were choosing Ethan? He should have been anxious, the thought of losing you all over again, he couldn't imagine how awful that would feel. Yet he didn't feel any of those things.

Judging by your relaxed body language. Your hand just aching to touch his. The way your eyes glistened looking at him. Your elated tone as you spoke. It didn't take a genius, a profiler, or even someone that knew you as well as him, to say these were all indicators whatever you wanted to talk to him about was happy.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “What time do you think-”

“I’ll let you know, okay? I know you like to switch off for the weekend so keep your phone on you for me.” You traced a finger against his knuckle and with one last smile, ambled elegantly towards the exit.

Yes - Spencer deducted - whatever you wanted to tell him was going to be good news.

A knock on the door grabbed Spencer’s attention. He quickly examined the place one last time, to ensure everything was clean and, well, perfect for you.

Satisfied, he eagerly crossed his living room and without thinking twice, expecting to see you on the other side of the door, he opened it.

“Hey Spencer.”

But it wasn’t you. It was the last person he ever expected to see.

“E-Ethan, what ehm, what are you doing here?” Spencer asked.

Ethan smirked at the question, slowly sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We need to talk, don’t you think?”

Spencer swallowed, but before he got a chance to reply the surgeon continued. “Actually, I’ll talk and you can listen. Also don’t bother inviting me inside because I’ll keep this brief and to the point.”

Your fiancé cleared his throat. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my wife-to-be still has feelings for her ex boyfriend. Did you know she is actually on her way here to tell you she’s choosing you? Yeah... Now, she doesn't know that I know. Her plan is to inform me tomorrow, after my shift at the hospital, that the wedding is no longer happening and our relationship is over.” He paused, almost as if he was daring Spencer to interrupt him at any moment and defend your honour.

Which in hindsight is something Spencer should have done.

“So here’s how this is going to do, doctor.” He slurred. “When she comes here, you're going to turn her down. You've broken her heart once before, I’m pretty sure you know how to do it again.”

Spencer stepped forward and opened his mouth to protest, but the surgeon impolitely cut him off. “Look, you’re a smart guy. Some sort of genius, right? I think deep down you know Y/N is better off with me. I can provide for her in ways you can't even comprehend. I am going to give her a life you can only dream of Spencer.”

“I think you’re forgetting it’s not all about the money.” Spencer stated coldly. His eyes narrowing. Jaw clenching.

Ethan chuckled callously. “Of course not. But I think you need to consider how much disposable income can improve life. I have the ability to ensure we buy our dream home. I have the ability to invest in a second home for her father, and move him somewhere closer to us. With me, Y/N will be able to quit her job and no longer risk her life on a daily basis. She will be able to spend time with our future kids, in a beautiful home, completely care free.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Did she even tell you she’s been thinking about transferring out of the BAU? She doesn't want to be a profiler anymore. Fuck man, she doesn't even know if she wants to be a SSA anymore. The only reason she’s sticking around is you.”

The statement caught Spencer completely off guard. Ethan had to be bluffing, right? He would say anything to ensure you stayed with him, right?

“You’re lying.” Spencer grumbled through his teeth.

Ethan smirked in response. “I’m really not though. Ask anyone. Her dad, it was actually he who suggested it in the first place. Or your friend Penelope, she seems to think it’s a good idea.”

Spencer’s world was crumbling down around him and he was helpless to stop it. Why didn't you tell him this was on your mind? Why did you keep this a secret? And how did he not see any inclination of this before?

“Like I said, you’re a smart guy Spencer.” Ethan stated. “I think you know what the right thing to do is.” And with that, he walked away leaving the brunette agent alone with his thoughts.

Slowly, Spencer closed the door. He turned on his heel and leaned against it while letting out a long winded breath, one he didn't even realise he was holding.

He never wanted to stand in the way of your plans. He didn't want to be the one holding you back from anything. Was his ever growing love for you clouding his judgement?

He closed his eyes, resting against the door behind him. The guilt he was now feeling riddled him from head to toe. And mixed with the guilt was a faint feeling of anger. Anger directed at the man that dared to get between your relationship with the brunette agent.

Ethan, a name of Hebrew origin that means firm, enduring and strong. A good name for good people.

Spencer knew off many Ethan’s in his lifetime. His college friend, an old colleagues son - all people that definitely lived up to the meaning. Yet your fiancé was anything but.

This Ethan was arrogant, rude, possessive. In Spencer’s mind, this Ethan was quite literally the physical embodiment of the curse word dick.

He never truly understood what you saw in the guy. He always thought you could do a lot better. Even if it wasn’t Spencer himself, there are men out there a lot kinder than Ethan.

And yet, despite all of the resentment he felt towards the man, Spencer couldn't help but feel like there was some truth to what he had said. The hazel-eyed man started doubting himself. Doubting whether he really had your best intention at heart, or whether his own selfishness was preventing him from making sure you’re living your best life.

This was supposed to be a happy day. A happy evening. 

It certainly started out that way. You were on your way here to tell him you were choosing him. You were choosing to spend the rest of your life with him.

Spencer felt sick to his stomach. Dizzy. He was sure if he opened his eyes even just for a second he would collapse. He also knew the only rational thing, the right thing to do will only make him feel worse.

The brunette agent wasn’t entirely sure how long he stood frozen like that. His breathing shallow. Heart sinking, heavy.

A knock on the door behind his back caused him to slowly open his eyes, yet he didn't move an inch. He simply couldn't. He couldn't bare to face you. He couldn't bare to look you in the eye and break your heart for a second time.

Instead, he chose the childish way out. He hoped if he was still enough, quiet enough, you would think he wasn’t home and leave. It is a conversation that cannot be avoided, but it would be a conversation for another day.

You knocked again, using a little more strength this time.

Spencer held his breath. Tears began to form in his eyes. Salty droplets that if he let escape, he knew they wouldn't stop falling.

He heard faint shuffling outside and for a split second he thought you gave up and walked away. For a split second he thought he bought himself more time. More time with the fantasy that the two of you would get your happy ending together. Foolish, he thought.

It was in that moment the mobile device in the back pocket off his pants started to buzz, vibrating against the door. The phone you asked he kept close to him earlier that day. The sound of the ringtone followed soon after completely giving away Spencer’s current location.

“Spencer?” The sweet sound of your voice coming through the wooden barrier between you caused the tears he was fighting to slowly trail down his face. The device stopped ringing. “I know you’re in there. Can you let me in?” You said, so blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

Spencer turned around and pressed his forehead against the painted wood. His hand travelled to the door knob, yet he still didn't move any further. “I-I... I c-can’t...” He managed to blurt out.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He heard you ask, the hint of confusion in your tone aching his heart further. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

The brunette doctor licked his lips and swallowed, tasting the saltiness of his own tears. “Y-you should go Y/N.” He uttered.

“Go? Spencer, you’re not making any sense.” You responded, the door knob rattling under Spencer’s fingers. “Please let me in. I’m not going to say what I want to say through a door.”

“Don’t s-say it at all. You should be with E-Ethan. Your future will be brighter with him.”

Silence. Unbearably heartbreaking silence.

At first you thought your ears were playing tricks on you. There was no way he just said that, right? A week after he told you he loved you. A week after he said he'll always wait for you. A week after he proposed. There was no way he changed his mind.

And then you thought of his time in prison. More specifically the day you went to visit him for the last time. The day you wanted to propose. The day he broke your heart.

He used those exact words - “Your future will be brighter without me.”

Slowly, you placed the palm of your hand on the door between you and took in a deep breath. Your eyes glossed over as the confusion rushing through you evolved into sadness.

Spencer could pinpoint the exact moment the air changed around him. It was suddenly tense. Broken. He felt like a coward. Even if he had your best interest at heart, he should still be able to face you and explain his side in person. Tell you that Ethan came by. Tell you everything that was said. Ask about your plans to leave the BAU. Ask whether he really was the only reason you haven't resigned yet. But he couldn't formulate the words. He simply gave up. A coward.

“Spencer, I-I don’t understand...” You sobbed. “I-I thought-t you loved me.”

“I love you more than anything in this world Y/N.” He quickly replied, the palm of his hand now pressed against the wood. Unbeknown to him, against the exact same spot on the opposite side of the barrier was your hand. So close yet so far.

“Then let me in. Please. I-I came here to say I choose you. I want to be with you Spencer. Please... Please let me in.” You cried through the door. Spencer could hear the pain behind your words, the sorrow. It really took all the strength he had not to let you in.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Your hands trembling uncontrollably against the barrier between you and the man of your dreams.

His sudden change of heart left you completely speechless. His words like tiny daggers stabbing directly into your bleeding heart. How did this happen? What changed between now and this morning? What changed between now and last week? You had so many questions. Ones that you feared would remain unanswered.

Additionally, your gut was telling you there was more to this than he was letting on. That it wasn’t as simple as ‘Ethan is the better man for you’ because you knew Spencer didn't believe that. But you couldn't find the strength within to argue with him.

“If-f that’s w-what you want Spencer, I’ll leave-e.”

It was the last thing he heard before the sound of your footsteps ushering away.  

After a minute, the hazel-eyed agent moved to the couch and sunk into the material. Every fibre of his being was currently aching. He hoped he did the right thing, although the voice at the back of his mind said no. What else was he supposed to do? He knew Ethan wouldn't just give up. Was Spencer prepared to fight for you? If tonight was any inclination the answer would also be no.

Spencer’s gaze locked onto the small box in the middle of his coffee table.

It was a considerably good week, and it was supposed to end a hell of a lot better than this.

Every part of me says, "Go ahead" But I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again

-

A/N: i hope you liked this chapter! and i am so so sorry for giving y’all false hope with the last one! i promise these there are happy times ahead for these two just not quite yet... as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway​

[lovemesomeharry]

MAKE YOU MINE

Warnings: Curse words, angst, smut

Words: 8.6k

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for a long time until Harry catches feelings and everything gets worse before things get better.

Y/N had always seen him as a star, always shining bright in the most devine color. Everybody knew and saw that he was the sharpest one among everyone but he would never dare to brag about it. To him, everybody was shining too and that just made him even more beautiful.

That's why Y/N loved to observe him. Whether it was him on stage, singing his soul out, and losing control in the best way possible just to make the crowd go wild and become alive.

Or he could be working and his best friend would try to remember in which angle the tip of his tongue stuck out between his rosy lips and his nose would twitch slightly when he was whispering his written words to himself just to let it taste on his tongue.

Or it could be in a situation like this one right here. Y/N watched him how he interacted with people, slightly tipsy, giggling too much and awfully affectionate. Those adorable dimples appeared on his cheeks as he flashed a wide smile to anyone that came to his sight. She couldn't hear what he was saying but it didn't prevent her own smile from appearing on her face as if she’d been a part of the conversation. Even if Harry was telling one of his usual bad jokes, everybody would still end up laughing because it was Harry who told them and he was so damn good at selling those awful jokes.

Y/N wouldn’t say that she was the opposite of Harry, but no one has ever come close to Harry’s charm and his approachable body language. He was a people's person and no one could deny it.

As the night went on Harry kept on drinking and became cuddlier, gigglier and his need to talk to his beat friend grew immensely.

Once he had spotted her a wider grin adorned his face if it was possible at this point, and anyone must have wondered how it didn't hurt to smile like that. He hadn't seen much of her because he was too busy chatting up the other guests, but he was about to change that.

“Y/N.” His words were slurred and a giggle followed right after he was successful at scaring her by approaching her from behind and nearly shouting into her ear.

She turned around, with a pouty mouth, and slapped Harry’s tattooed arm. “Why would you do that, asshole?”

Harry rubbed at the place where she had slapped him, even though her hit wasn't hard and he wasn't really in pain. “Ouch! You’re so mean. I just wanted to talk to you.” With his finger, he tapped the tip of her nose. “Wouldn’t have come here if I knew you were gonna be a meanie to me.” He moved his face right in front of hers and she could totally smell the alcohol he must have in his system.

“What do you mean? When have I ever been nice to you? I can't stand you.” Now she was grinning from one ear to the other as she watched how Harry’s faced dropped. She loved to mess with him but when he was drunk it was a lot funnier. His brain couldn't comprehend the sarcasm and it made him believe that she was saying the truth.

His eyes lost his previous spark and the corners of his mouth were turned upside down as he let the one curl fall onto his forehead to cover up the crease forming between his two eyebrows.

He looked so adorable, but of course, Y/N wasn't the one who would tell him that.

“Take that back.” His tone was demanding but whiny and he crossed his arms in front of his chest as he took a step closer to her. He strengthened his posture but in his drunken state it just looked too funny and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his poor attempting to be intimidating. It just made him even more unhappy, as he put both of his hands at each side of her head and pressed his hot skin on the cool wall, coming so close to her that their noses almost touched.

She felt his hot breath on her upper lip as she shook her head. “No, I never liked you. Deal with it.”

Both were staring at each other and totally forgot the people around them and what situation they were in. The only sound they heard was their own heartbeat as they canceled out the rest of their world.

His green eyes looked at her slightly opened mouth and for a short moment, he hesitated before he pressed his lips to hers. She let out a surprised squeak when she felt his soft mouth on hers, sloppily kissing her. The kiss was short and she couldn't really comprehend it when he let go of her. “How do you like me now?” His voice was deep enough go make chills run down her spine and she couldn't believe what just happened.

He really kissed hee, his best fucking friend. She could still feel his soft mouth on hers and taste the bitter alcohol he had previously.

Y/N felt like as if she was dreaming, but when Harry just walked away she knew it wasn't one. In her dreams, he never walked away afterward.

She didn't really know what to make of this situation and tried to keep a cool head but the fast-beating heart in her chest made it not an easy task.

Would he remember him kissing her? Was he going to regret it? Are things going to be awkward between them from now on?

As bad she wanted to reminisce the kiss and do this again, she was scared that their friendship was hanging on a thread. So her enjoyment was cut short painfully for the rest of the night.

When Harry came by her house with fresh croissants and two coffees Y/N swore her heart stopped for a second.

He looked not as happy as he did a few hours ago and dark shadows painted his skin right underneath his eyes. He looked so tried but tried to cover it up by wearing a beanie and a gigantic hoodie. But it just ended up making him look even more tired and cuddly at the same time.

Y/N really wanted to focus on his looks but after what happened yesterday she hadn't had a chance to talk to him about the kiss. It was making her crazy not knowing what was going through the brits head.

The small voice inside her head told her he was going to regret it. He’d let go of her and wonder how he could have ever done that. He was going to call her names, or at least that's what her head told her. Even though she knew exactly Harry would never go as low as to call her names, she still feared the possibility. Even if it was.t his nature. Besides she wouldn't know how to feel if he’d ever been so rude to her. It would entirely mess up her confidence because she cared about his opinion too much for her own liking.

“Are you ok?” He had asked after staring at her for a solid minute and her not catching him doing so. A worried look took over his soft features as both of them sat down on both ends of her white couch. Much to Harry’s displeasure who wanted her to sit closer to him.

“What?” She shook her head as if she was trying to get those thoughts out of her head. “I’m fine.”

Suspiciously Harry raised his eyebrow. “No, you're not. You’ve been awfully quiet, love.” His leg was bouncing up and down and his entire body sank into the couch. He looked relaxed and Y/N wondered how he was so calm when inside her she was in such troubles. How was he so calm when it was his fault that she was in such a troublesome situation?

She was going to ask him about the kiss, but he was a bit faster and began to speak. “Is it because I kissed Naomi?”

Now Y/N’s head perked up. “Naomi?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah, I was a bit too drunk and kissed her. She texted me this morning asking what that meant.” He sighed as he pat his left leg. “It was so awkward. I had to explain to her that I didn’t think much of it.”

Y/N tried to listen to her best friend as he went on about it, but she couldn't really listen anymore when the small voice laughed at her. Of course, he didn't think much of it and he probably doesn't think much of the kiss they both shared, apparently on the very same night too. But she couldn't help but wonder if he could assume what she was feeling for him? Did he kiss anybody else? Could he still remember their kiss the way she did?

Why would he when he could have anyone? Harry always loved the attention he got from girls and was just taking advantage of his situation.

But Y/N just wished he wouldn't have brought her into this mess, because her heart was too fragile to come out without any bruises.

He's actually gonna try to let it go. He asks his heart to beat slower each time, but he can't get it right when he sees her in front of him.

With her wide smiles, her bright eyes and the loving charisma that she radiates so naturally, everywhere and at all times, it is impossible for him to keep a clear head. And if he is completely honest with himself, he does not want to keep a clear head when it means that she will not take up most of the space in his brain.

Ever since he had first heard her voice, it had echoed in his ear. Day and night. But it was not a nightmare. On the contrary. Her soft voice sounded like his new favourite song that he could listen to in a continuous loop without ever being saturated by it. Fuck. He would even play it at his concerts, he loved it so much.

That's how beautiful he thought she was.

He never wanted to admit to himself that she had his vulnerable heart in her hand and could do whatever she wanted and he wouldn't stop her. She could ram thousands of knives through it and he would thank her with a painful smile.

He felt pathetic. He felt so helpless. But most, he felt so stupid.

But it got worse when his eyes gleamed with jealousy. The sparks that sparkled for her were mixed with the gasoline that his jealousy fed him. A menacing fire was seething inside him, ready to spread. But it was not a fire of passion that spread a pleasant warmth in his body, but something that could destroy everything around him.

Harry was never a person who longed for revenge or liked to see others suffer. He is really not a sadist, but in that moment he became one.

Because a stranger dared to touch his Y/N where he should not touch her. He wanted to stomp to them and drag him off her.

But he could not do that.

First of all, that wouldn't do him any favors, because it would be just what the the press was waiting for. They already loved to fabricate the wildest stories about him, so, he didn’t really need to give them the satisfaction of a real story.

And second, the more pressing matter, she was not his Y/N. At least not in the way that he would like her to be.

That's why he leaned against the cool wall, sipped on his beer, and watched the two of them with eyebrows drawn together instead of doing anything. At least for now he decided to lay low.

He didn't even understand what she found attractive enough about him to let him talk to her. The stranger seemed like a lowered version of Michael B. Jordan, yet he seemed to be able to make her laugh. Her eyes always sparkled with the stars and Harry wished so much that he was the reason for it and not the prick in front of her.

Jealousy clouded his vision because Y/N felt that the stranger in front of her, whose name was Nick, was not a condescending version but came so damn close to the actor that the sight softened her knees. He bared his straight teeth when the opportunity presented itself and she could swear that she saw her own reflection in them.

“Would you like to continue this conversation in private?” Nick asked, coming dangerously close to her ear. She smelled his strong perfume and felt his hot breath tickling her skin. She sucked the air sharply and bit onto her lower lip as he graced her earlobe. An exciting sensation ran through her sensitive body parts but mostly, she could feel the tingling sensation between her legs. It had been too long since she’s been with a man.

Her fingers ran up and down the edge of her glass as she nodded. She tried not to appear too excited, but she didn't suspect she was doing a good job, as a playful grin spread across his handsome face.

The more she was pleased, the angrier her best friend became, still staring at them with an eagle eye, as if he was ready to grab his prey any minute before anyone else got the chance. Harry couldn't hear what she was saying, nor could he lip-read, which he regretted at that moment, but his alarm bells began to ring when the stranger stood up and took her delicate hand in his.

It hadn't taken him a minute to act and if his brain hadn't been completely clouded he would have thought he was foolish. How could he run after a girl who is only his best friend? She gets to go anywhere with whoever she pleases. Even if it was a Walmart version of an actor.

As he stood just inches away from the guy, he realized what he was doing and how ridiculous he probably looked. It's not like he didn't has his fair share on body counts.

But before he could change his mind, Y/N glimpsed at him with a questioning look. She raised her left eyebrow, almost as if to ask him if everything was okay.

Harry wanted to say no, even scream it out loud. But he choked out what was going through his mind at that moment. “I-I've lost my car keys.”

In his mind, he threw a bunch of curse words at himself and he would have absolutely no problem if a black hole appeared underneath him that could suck him in.

“What?” He heard Y/N's confused voice and the stranger finally looked at him. On his face, Harry could see the amusement again. Of course, he thought Harry was a fool and he, too, admitted to being one.

He swallowed the lump down his throat. “I can't find them anymore.” Harry had no intention of making that sentence sound like a question because it made his obvious lie even more obvious.

“Is it in your po-”

“-No” He nearly blurted it out. “You got to help me.”

Y/N looked sceptically at Harry. She knew him well enough to be sure he would never lose his car keys. He could lose his rings, but he would never lose his car keys. His car collection, which consisted almost entirely of vintage cars, was his pride and joy and he treated them like his own children.

Visibly annoyed and irritated by his actions, she sighed. “Are you sure?”

He just nodded and she struggled with the urge to ditch him to have her fun with Nick. But how could she be so heartless and abandon her best friend, even though he lied to her straight on without batting an eyelid? But somehow his eyebrows furrowed and the nervous lip chewing had gotten to her. So she turned to Nick with an apologetic look, but he understood the situation completely and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

He laughed. “Don't worry about it. I get it.” For a brief moment, Nick looked at Harry and put his best smirk on his face to show him he understood Harry's true intentions. But that didn't stop him from whispering something into Y/N's ear and gently kissing the spot behind her it.

Harry's eyes were about to fly out or Nick was about to fly across the room. He couldn't decide what would happen, but his guess was on the second one.

Y/N nodded after the stranger and when her eyes finally met Harry's they suddenly became cold and annoyed. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized that and he really knows which fuses were blown that he had freed her from that guy.

“I have seen the keys-” he started, but Y/N interrupted him with a horrified laugh.

“Cut the bullshit, Harry. I know you didn't lose your fucking keys.”

He had to swallow hard, but his throat still felt dry. He thought about what he could say to her, but her annoyed look somehow cut off the oxygen to his brain. So he was forced to take his emerald eyes off hers and instead looked through the crowd in the club that was already staring at them.

“Can we settle this somewhere else?” With his painted index finger he pointed in the direction of the curious onlookers, which is why she agreed.

It was at moments like these that she completely forgot who he really was. He is not just her best friend, a colossal pain in her ass, but also an A-list celebrity.

Harry exhaled the hot air, and gratefully grabbed her arm to pull her along.

He pulled her all the way outside, where the cool air whipped Y/N's skin and she only now realized how stuffy it was inside. The glowing moon stared down at them as Harry ran to his car. As they stood in front of it, his eyes drilled holes in her head and she raised her arms on her hips.

“Cat got your tongue?” She first broke the tense silence.

It took a moment longer before he finally found the ability to think clearly again, but his eyes were too busy marveling at her delicate features in the moonlight. He had to admit that the light made her look even more magical and her skin practically glittered. He tried to turn his eyes away from her, but she looked so ethereal and it didn't help him that he got to see so much of her soft skin. To do himself a bittersweet favor, Harry opened his car door with the supposedly lost key, which made Y/N laugh sarcastically and get into the car after him.

She was right.

“I didn't lose my car keys.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He reached his hand through his frizzy curls, which were slightly sweaty. “The guy was... weird.” He sighed slightly frustrated with her for not dropping the topic but also himself for getting into the mess he was currently in.

“Weird?” Y/N asked, sounding almost amused. “He looked like Michael B. Jordan, for fucks sake!” She couldn’t believe her best friend, because she was usually the one telling him if a person seemed off but he’d ignore her advice. So who did he think he was for rescuing her?

Harry didn't like the feeling that was brewing inside of him that could cause a series of hurtful words to leash out of his mouth. So he simply bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, she thought he looked like him.

“He only wanted to shag you.“ His deep voice spit the words out like venom. Both of his hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles more visible.

She scoffed. “I was obviously looking for a husband at a club, right?” Y/N rested her back against the soft Italian leather and turned her head to notice his clenched jaw.

He really hated it when she was sarcastic with him and even more when she rolled those pretty eyes of hers.

“Why are you so pissed, H? Not that I ever cockblocked you.”

He tried to stiffen his breathy laughter, because she had no idea what she was doing to him. She did, in fact, do that, just not in the same way Harry just did and maybe it wasn’t fair of him to blame it all on Y/N because she had no idea what was going through his head. But yet Harry felt like she should know that she's living in his daydreams with him, that she's the first thing he thinks of after waking up and the last person to fall asleep to. He occasionally dreamed of her and as the nights got lonelier he’d imagine her laying beside him. He couldn't even shag anyone without thinking of the incredible girl sitting on his passenger's seat right now. He would compare every girl he tried to get into his bed to her and sometimes, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take the stranger back home, because his heart was aching for somebody else. So yeah, she was a cockblock to him. The most annoying one he's ever had.

“Actually you did. Remember how Chloe was apparently using me for fame?” Chloe was the blonde and bubbly girl who was all over Harry just a few days ago when he and Y/N went to the gym together. She was all over him since the minute he stepped foot into the gym and even though he could see Y/N’s glaring stare on them he flirted back. His best friend even tried to warn him, but he shrugged it off and went through with a bathroom quickie.

And what makes it worse: Chloe wasn’t the only one. There were many more like her.

Thinking back he really didn’t understand why he had done all those things when he was never interested in those girls. Or maybe he does know why. He wanted to make Y/N jealous. See if she would give him any sort of reaction, but that never came. So now thinking back he didn’t understand why thought it was a good idea playing with peoples hearts and give them the two minutes of fame that they craved so badly.

She looked at him with disbelief. “She was! But I guess I’m sorry for caring about your reputation?” Her head slightly bounced off the seat as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I really don’t understand why it’s such a big deal who I shag.”

And honestly Harry wished he would feel the same way, but he just doesn't.

“Because you shouldn’t spread your legs for every guy.”

And Harry wished he just didn't say that.

Her delicate features twisted with anger as she straightened her posture so she could have a better look at him. She wanted to make sure that he really said those words but to her dislike he did.

A bitter taste lingered in her mouth and her whole facial expression turned sour.

“Excuse me? You’re calling me a slut, when you're the one with a new girl every week?” She raised her voice and truly couldn't believe how the conversation progressed from his ‘lost car keys’ to him accusing her of such things.

Harry’s tense fingers gripped slightly at his wild curls, obviously unhappy with his poor choice of words. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then fucking enlighten me please? Because right now you’re acting like an asshole!” Her heart was beating rapidly and with each heartbeat, she felt a sharp pain shooting through her entire body. Of all people, she would’ve never expected Harry to insult her and make her feel dirty. Almost as if she was easy to have when it was most definitely not the case. But his little accusation broke her heart and her self esteem in a way that she had to question every decision she has made so far.

“It’s just” He started not really knowing where to go with his words. “I fucking like you.”

She sneered not catching on the real meaning behind Harry’s confession. “I like you too, but I don't walk around and call you a man whore.”

How could she be so stupid sometimes? He really wanted to ask her that. Because it was hard enough to admit that once but having to explain it to her was so much worse.

“You don’t get it, Y/N. I really like you.” He watched her face carefully as the panic spread through him. He can’t believe he told her like that, or at all.

Y/N was confused. So extremely confused and angry. Not for lying to her, cockblocking her or initiating that she’s a slut, but for the fact that he had the audacity to do this to their friendship. Once again. She barely had gotten the kiss out of her memories.

“You’re drunk, right?” She picked on her nail polish, slightly taking small bits of it off as she started at him with disbelief. Why couldn’t he just lose his car keys? “This is a joke.”

He didn’t know what to say to her anymore, so he stayed silent and took his eyes off of her.

“Harry, you always do that.”

“Do what?” Now it was his time to be confused.

“You’re not into me. You’re just bored.” She sighed heavily. Y/N didn’t want to reveal what she was thinking of his love life knowing that he wouldn’t like it. But at the end of the day he’s a relationship person. It wouldn’t be too bad if he wouldn’t fall so fast for the first person who gave him a little bit of attention. Because when he’s single he’d get all lonely and eventually falls in love with the first person he sees. It has always been like this, that’s why Y/N refuses to give in to him and let their friendship take the fall. Because Harry never got anything out of these relationships, besides a broken friendship and always a broken heart. “You always do that, you know? H, you just want attention.”

Harry thought he’d be able to smile if she’d slice his heart open, but the little cuts are already painful enough to make his eyes tear up if he wouldn’t fight it. “So my feelings are not valid and I just want attention?” A bitter laugh left his slightly quivering lips. “I think I got enough of that.” He shook his head at himself for letting those words slip out of his mouth. He knew she didn’t feel the same but at least she could’ve let him down less harsh. “You could’ve just said you don't feel the same.”

“Trust me you won’t feel the same when somebody else comes along.” He will, or at least that's what he thought. But it hurt like hell hearing her not taking him seriously.

He started the engine of the car without shooting a single glance her way because looking at Y/N would make him feel worse and he didn't know how much strength he had inside of him to not let his tears appear at this waterline.

He felt stupid. He felt humiliated. But mostly he felt so incredibly broken and scared.

He always knew him and Y/N was never going to be a thing because she didn't feel the same. How could she? She only saw him as her friend and Harry knew she deserves someone better. Someone who could give her the world, when Harry would have to hide her from it.

But Harry was so scared as he took her home and a million thoughts were running through his mind. He probably changed everything between them but he hoped he wasn’t going to lose her completely.

But he couldn't help to wonder if he just ruined their friendship?

It had been a little bit over a week since Y/N had last seen Harry. He dropped her off at her place and before she could say a thing he drove off again. So everything was left unspoken between them when all Y/N wanted to do was to talk it out with him. But she was scared. She didn't know how he’d react or if he'd want to talk to her.

And she’d understand if he didn't.

She knew she hurt him. That was her intention. She knew he would’ve stuck to his feelings if she didn't push him away to save their friendship.

They had come a long way and she wasn't sure if it was worth it throwing their close bond away for Harry’s small interest in her.

She’d be lying if she said the thought never crossed her mind. In fact, it did way too often for her own liking. It was just too hard to be platonic with him when he was too good at using his charm on her.

But at the same time that was another problem. He did it with everyone. So how could Y/N be certain he wouldn't get tired of her after they'd let their feelings take the upper hand?

No matter how hard she tried to ban Harry from her thoughts he’d always find his way through her thick skull. It was impossible for her to forget him when the image of his pained face was still haunting her and the only sound she heard was his strained voice.

She just hoped he as doing alright. That he wouldn't take it too personally and would get over it. The best-case scenario would be that they could laugh about it one day and would wonder how he could ever think to have feelings for his best friend.

But for them to reach that stage one of those stubborn people would have to give in and Y/N wasn’t sure who would be brave enough to take the first step. It has never been her strong suit and neither was it Harry’s.

Y/N spent her whole afternoon by being lazy. A quality she had started to be familiar with. It took her a while till she actually got out of her warm bed and before she really kicked off her day, she had a quick scroll through Instagram. But she regretted that almost instantly.

Pictures of Harry and a blonde girl were plastered all over the internet and she couldn't help but narrow her eyes at the familiar face. Chloe.

She bit the insides of her cheek a little bit too harshly as they seemed very cozy with one another at a concert last night, both of them dancing and hugging each other in a way Harry never did with Y/N. His hands were a little bit too low and her mouth came his dangerously close, but there weren't any pictures of them kissing, which made her sigh in relief.

She shut down her phone and threw it onto her bed and crawled underneath her blanket.

Y/N knew she shouldn't trust whatever she saw in those pictures because a bad angle could make anything look fishy. She experienced this firsthand when she and Harry became friends. Everybody seemed to believe that something was going on between them and an innocent hug could be interpreted as a passionate goodbye of two heartbroken lovers.

But no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that those are just pictures and no real confession, her brain wouldn't let her believe it.

If Harry liked her so much he would try to talk to her instead of waltzing to the next best thing. Y/N knew how he was and she’d predicted the unavoidable outcome. Sooner or later Harry would've become bored of her and leave her for someone new, someone more exciting and their friendship would be at the exact same place as it was at that moment.

She didn't like how both outcomes predicted how her heart would beat painfully in her chest and she wondered if Harry’s heart felt that even if it was for just a second.

It’s been exactly 22 days since Harry and Y/N last interacted with one another and Y/N couldn't help but count the days herself. She doesn't know when she picked that up along the way but at least it was getting easier for her to get out of her bed in the morning. So she thought it was better for her to look at the bright sight.

Besides she was happy to not have seen any more pictures of Harry and Chloe. So she believed it was nothing serious to him, even if the little voice echoed in her head how they both have gotten better at hiding from the rude photographers. But even if they weren't going out anymore she wouldn't be shocked. When has something like this ever meant anything to him?

But she banished those thoughts as she tried to go on with her everyday life.

Y/N really couldn't believe how much he was actually involved in her life. It could be an ordinary situation where she saw something cute, took a picture of it and her hand immediately swiped to Harry’s name so he could have a look at it himself. It happened without her knowledge and if she wasn't so fast she might have sent him accidentally a message already.

But it wasn't just that. It would happen if she got a coffee before going to the gym. Even though she had to go to a different café after changing her gym to avoid running into Harry. She’d order two drinks before it was too late and she stood their like an idiot wondering what she should do with the bullet coffe she hated but he always drank.

And what was more embarrassing was the fact how she would always think of Harry first, before she thought of anybody else, including herself.

That’s why her heart broke every day a little bit harder instead of trying to heal itself, but she slowly learned to get used to the heart ache.

But the sudden realizations kept her up all night and she wondered how she could've missed the signs when they were lying right in front of her very own, and apparently very blind, eyes.

Maybe it was because of her blind eyes or her slowness after working multiple hours without catching a break or her not being able to fight back the urge anymore after doing so successfully for 22 days that she sent Harry a picture of a cute dog she had found on Instagram.

When her brain finally processed what she had done, the horror on her face was obvious. She tried to delete the message but to her misfortune Harry had already seen it.

The grey bubble appeared which made her stop breathing as she waited anxiously for his response. Was he going to tell her to delete his number and leave him alone?

Harry – 09:34 PM

Can I come over?

Finally, Y/N let some oxygen inside of her again. She had to debate a bit with herself and tried to make up an excuse why he couldn’t come over. But she decided against it.

Y/N – 09:36 PM

Sure

She wanted to add a ’please’ but decided against it as she didn't want to sound desperate.

After she had sent the message her legs were bouncing up and down and she’d casually get up and rehearse a conversation that might happen.

She was nervous. She was so extremely nervous because she didn't what he was going to say.

But she knew what she had to say. She would do anything in her powder to avoid ending their friendship because the last few days had already felt like hell to her. How was she supposed to live like that for the rest of her life?

And when he finally rang her doorbell her mumbling stopped and she stared at the door trying to look if it really was Harry behind it. But she had no supervision so she began moving towards it. With unsteady steps, she opened it up to reveal a distraught looking Harry.

His puffy eyes looked even darker and heavier compared to when he was hungover and the little beard he grew made him more attractive but also proved that he hadn't been taking care of himself in a while, as his hair also looked a little bit greasy from where she stood.

They both just stared at each other, unable to exchange words but Y/N had hoped that she looked better than him. But she couldn't be positive about it because she wasn't exactly taking care of herself either.

Still, in silence, she opened the door a little bit wider to let him come him. When he did she caught a small whiff of his fresh cologne and her eyes wanted to tear up right at that moment.

She had missed him so much that just his scent made her already feel more at ease and all she wanted to do was to collapse in his chest and let him pull her closer by wrapping his strong arms around her body.

She wanted him close to her again.

For a moment the silence still remained and their were staring at their feet before they both started talking at the same time.

“I’m so sorry.” Did the two of them say at the same time with the same pain lingering in their voices.

He looked up first with an hopefull expression. He was so scared that she wouldn’t say anything and simply tell him to get his stuff out of her place. He was fearing for a text like that for so long, even today when her name popped up in his notifications. But once he saw the dog picture he was able to relax a bit and didn't hesitate when he asked if he could come over.

Now they were both standing there and hoping that it wasn't the last time they'd see each other.

“No, don’t be. It's my fault.” She started to say, still looking at her feet and playing with the hem of her sweatshirt as she stood there awkwardly in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do with her body. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings.”

A minor pain shot through his body as he remembered the heartbreaking memory. But he couldn’t be mad at her for doing so and just by looking at her he was sure he would never take that personally, especially after initiating that she was easy to have. “I-I know you don't sleep around and you don’t open your legs for everyone. I’m sorry about that. And lying to you.” He shook his head as she tried to speak again and at the fact that he actually said all those things to her.

“And I’m so sorry for being so bitter after the kiss. I should have not let my anger out on you. You were drunk.” She finally dared to look into Harry’s conflicted face. His hair was a little bit longer than she remembered as his curls seemed to tickle his neck and the patchy beard made him look more mature than he did before.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What kiss?” Harry’s brain tried to remember when the kiss could have happened but there were no memories of him kissing the girl in front of him. He was sure he could not forget kissing an angel, or could he? “We kissed?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, at the party?” She bit her lip and tried to play it cool. “You kissed Naomi on that day too.”

“Wait a minute, I kissed you too?” As his brain started to work and a distant remembrance popped up when he pressed his lip to Naomi’s in a drunken state. But he could not remember kissing Y/N, but he wishes he did. “How could I forget that?”

Y/N laughed trying to ease the situation when the tension was becoming too much for her. “It’s not like it meant something to you.”

And with that, she did not only hurt her heart but also Harry’s, who actually showed her what an effect her words had on him. “Is that why you think I’m not being serious?”

Y/N didn’t want to nod her head. She didn't want to give him an answer he was waiting for so long. So she didn't, even if both of them could stop cutting deeper into each other's hearts.

Slowly Harry got closer to her. The wooden floor underneath him creaking with every step until he was close enough to touch her face gently and make her look at him. “Naomi doesn't matter. Chloe doesn't matter. No one does. But if I remembered kissing you, I would be over the moon.” His heart was beating at high speed as he confessed his feelings, hoping that she would too if she was into him. “Because you do matter to me.” With his last part of the confession, he pressed his forehead to hers and tried to hold her close. His eyes closed shut and he focused only on her breathing.

Y/N’s feelings were all over the place. She was happy. She was scared and she felt nauseous. Was this all happening? Was the guy she has been crushing on for a few years now finally confessing his feelings for her?

“You don’t remember the kiss?” Her voice was hoarse when asked and Harry almost immediately shook his head. “Shall I refresh your memory?“

His eyes were about to bulge out of his head and his hands gripped her face a little bit harder. He stepped away from her a little so he could see the sarcasm on her face. But she wasn't joking. She was being sincere and once Harry realized that his lips came crashing into hers.

His feathery lips sucked on hers before he opened his mouth a little and teased her with his tongue to let him in. Once she did he wanted to moan into her mouth at the sweet taste she provided him with. Her hands were roaming in his hair and he didn't even notice when she slipped his beanie off of his head and started tugging at his curls.

This is all he ever wanted. That is all she ever wanted.

She was amazed by how soft his lips were and he couldn’t grasp the fact that she tasted sweeter than her scent and so much more addictive after getting a taste.

Slowly Y/N started to walk backward until she felt the couch on her legs. She pulled Harry on top of her when she sat down and hungrily continued the kiss after the short break.

His hands were sliding down her face, her neck and eventually came to a halt as he touched her hips to keep her steady. He can't imagine how she let him kiss her again. It all felt like a dream to both of them and they were not ready to wake up anytime soon.

He slipped his lips off hers, trying his best to catch his breath, before trailing kisses up and down her neck. Her small hands we're still playing with his curls and when she started to pull at them he moaned into her neck. He had waited so long for this to happen.

Y/N pushed her chest into his and once he pushed her into the soft cushions he continued to kiss her body. His kisses we're short but he didn't forget a single spot to love. She watched him with hungry eyes as he began to move lower and lower until he was between her legs. He looked up between her thighs, finding Y/N in a needy state. “Is this ok?”

She nodded and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Talk to me, love. Tell me.” His voice sounded so soft and she could swear she felt a tingle between her legs because of his voice and the nickname he had used.

“Yes. Continue, please.” He giggled at how breathless she already sounded and because of those big eyes she made.

“Your wish is my command.” His fingers slipped off her grey shorts and he had to stiffen his laughter as he saw her Spongebob panties.

Her face heated up and her cheeks were painted a faint rosy color. “Don’t laugh. I wasn’t expecting for this to happen.” With both of her hands, she covered up her face, clearly embarrassed. But Harry couldn't care less what she wore, in his eyes she always looked ravishing and like a goddess walking this earth.

“Don’t hide your face, love.” He moved his body up again, just to stroke her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. “You look absolutely stunning.” The intensity of his stare made her knees weak and goosebumps run up her spine.

She nodded her head when he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Let me make you feel so pretty.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me make up for what happened.” He kissed the heated skin of her forehead and stroke her hair behind her ear. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded again, but when he rose his eyebrow she expressed herself, how he requested from her. “Make me yours, Harry.” With a smirk, he kissed her lips slowly, bit onto her lip, and pulled on it, which earned him a small whimper from her. A breathy laugh left his mouth and with his right hand, he slid down her body and gripped the hem of her panties. One last time he searched for disapproval or even just hesitation in her eyes, but when he could not find that, he dove right into the action.

His hand slit into her underwear and he started to rub small circles on her clit. He was soft at first, very careful and he didn't want to destroy his flower, his little petal, who looked too good for him. Who was too good for him. She closed her eyes and through her open mouth, quiet moans slipped through it. Harry was too focused on her delicate features to pick up the speed, only when she took his hand and started grinding on it, he started to put all his energy to make her feel good.

His long fingers pinched her pulsating clit and he could feel how wet she had already gotten, as his fingers started to slip. “Do I make you feel good?” He looked at her with those dimples appearing in his cheeks and he realized at that moment that he wanted her beneath him so many more times in his life. Only her, for the rest of his life.

“Yes.”, she moaned as his finger teased her wet slit. ”I need more.”

“Tell me what you need.” She opened her eyes, looked at him pleadingly as she moaned out his name. Harry swore he could cum if he saw her like this again.

“Want you inside me.” She kissed Harry’s cheek and moved her kisses along his sharp jawline, desperately searching for his soft spot. But before she found it he held her head back, to make her look at him.

“Not today. I need to make it up to you, angel.“ With that he lowered himself until his face was right between her thighs. With anticipation she bit her lip and stared at the green eyed boy, who was slowly removing her underwear. Her face was heating up, and the electricity she felt, whenever he touched her, made her want him even more.

“God. You’re so pretty.” He admired her one last time before his hands found her swollen clit to play with. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” He moaned and felt his own pants tightening around him.

His circles became rougher and faster and she couldn’t help but grasp his hair in her fists. Low moans escaped her mouth and she couldn’t help but arch her back.

“I want to taste you so bad.” He breathed on her pussy. “Can I taste you?” He looked up from between her legs to catch a glimpse of her nodding her head in ecstasy.

“Yes, please.” It didn’t take him long until he licked her slit clean before he focused all his attention to her clit again. With his plump lips he sucked it in and swirled his tongue around it.

Y/N jolted up from the pleasure she got and tugged at his hair to pull him closer to her. He let out a breathy laugh only intensifiying her feelings when she felt his mouth vibrate against her. “Harry.” She moaned as his fingers found their way to her wet entrance. He parted her lips and buried his tongue inside her again for a quick taste before he let his fingers do their magic.

At first it was just one, then two, before he started pumping his fingers in and out of her and he kept his mouth on her clit. Sweat was forming on his forehead and Y/N tried her best to keep his hair out of his face so she could see him whenever he looked at her. Her walls started clenching around him and her legs were starting to get tired.

Harshly she gripped the mattress and tried her best not to scream when he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars.

“You’re so thight, baby.” Harry moaned after he flicked his tongue over her clit harshly and his fingers were picking up on speed. “Do you want to cum, love?” She nodded her head, eyes closed, much to Harry’s dislike. “Talk to me.” His movements came to a halt which made her thrust her hips forward desperately.

“Please, Harry.”

“Please, what?”

“Please make me cum.”

He laughed before he buried his head between her legs again and began to eat her out as if she was his last meal and she couldn’t help but let her legs shake, and those moans out, when she felt the beard scratch her on all the right places. Harry was painfully hard himself but hearing and tasting her made him almost combust in his pants.

When his fingers picked up speed and she pinched her own nipple, her walls began to thighten around him and with one last moan she let herself go. “Fuck. Harry!” She closed her eyes shut, her back arched off the white material and helplessly she tried to breathe again.

Harry watched her with such adoration in his eyes as she came down and gave her pussy one last kiss before he held her face in his hands. She didn’t care that he was still covered in her juices and smeared it in her hair.

With a playful grin he looked her up and down and once her breathing calmed down a bit she gave him a small peck on his dimple, making it deeper on his cheek. Butterflies erupted in both bellies and a giddly feeling made both of them feel warm inside. With his thumb he stroke her cheek and rested his forehead on hers again.

“Are you mine now?”