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sequinsmile-x · 2 months

Text

Noble

/ˈnəʊbl/ adjective.

having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral principles.

Emily and Aaron, along with the rest of the BAU, help look for a missing little girl who has the same name as their daughter.

-x-

Hi friends,

This started as an idea I had yesterday and, as always, spiralled wildly out of control. It's less a bit less of a case fic than I initially intended, but it is angsty, full of feelings and hurt/comfort as well as a good dose of domestic Hotchniss.

I really hope you like this, and I would love to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5.5k (really really got away from me.)

Warnings: kidnapping, canon typical themes

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’s woken up by tiny hands pressing into her face, familiar warm and little fingers digging into her cheeks. Emily blearily opens her eyes, struggling at first as if they’d been glued together by a lack of sleep, and she’s met with her little girl's face, her dark eyes shining in the low light of the room.

“Alice, honey, are you okay?” she asks, reaching to the nightstand to turn on the lamp, internally winching when she sees it’s only 4 am. She rests her elbow on the mattress to get a better look at her little girl.

The movement causes her husband's arm to slip from its place over her waist, the weight of it now resting on her hip. She can feel from his breathing against the back of her neck that the small amount of light in the room hadn’t woken Aaron up. When they first started sleeping together, in the very literal sense, they’d both been light sleepers. Both so used to being alone and facing their monsters by themselves, their demons who had faces of very real men prone to coming out of any shadow. Any sound no matter how small enough to draw them from sleep and into a reality where danger was waiting for them.

After close to five years together, four of them married, they were both heavier sleepers now, aware of the safety they brought each other even in sleep. A kind of security their children often sought out, her and Aaron’s bed a frequent sanctuary for Jack or Alice, sometimes both, when they woke up in the middle of the night.

She feels her heart clench at the sight of her 3-year-old daughter. Ever since she was born everyone had always told her that Alice looked exactly like her, something that only seemed to be more true as time went on. If she looked at photos of herself when she was Alice’s age they looked identical, and she often wondered if she’d once been like her little girl, full of life and wonder and joy, before she was taught she needed to be ‘better behaved’.

Emily knows what’s happened before Alice responds, the signs of a nightmare all there. Her hair was unruly, dark curls that Emily couldn’t say where they’d come from escaping the braids Aaron had diligently done under the toddler's instructions at bedtime. She has visible tear tracks on her perfect cheeks, her eyes shining with more, and her lower lip trembling as if she was trying to stop herself from crying, as if she was trying to be brave.

“Bad dream,” Alice replies and Emily sighs sympathetically, reaching out and tucking some of Alice’s hair behind her ear, smiling sadly when the toddler leans into the affection.

“I’m sorry baby,” she says quietly, aware of her still-sleeping husband behind her, “Want to sleep in here with me and Daddy?” Alice nods as she rubs her eyes and Emily pulls back the covers so the little girl can climb under them. She tucks her against her chest, smiling softly as Alice curls into her, her head tucked under her chin as she snuggles in, her tiny fist clasped in Emily’s pyjama shirt. Emily turns the lamp back off and wraps her arms around her daughter, rubbing comforting circles on her back, “Want to tell Mommy about the bad dream?”

Alice shakes her head against her, “No,” she says, rubbing the material of Emily’s shirt between her thumb and forefinger to self-soothe, “Mama sing?”

Emily smiles before she nods, pressing a kiss against the top of Alice’s head as she continues to rub circles on her back, easing her back asleep. It was something she’d done for Jack before Alice had been born, something she’d done on a whim one day when she was home alone with him early on in her relationship with Aaron and the little boy had a nightmare. He’d climbed into bed with her and she’d started singing, hoping it would calm him down and it had. Ever since then, he’d asked for her to sing when he was sick or sad, and she’d happily comply. It seemed natural to do the same thing for Alice, and she’d done it before she was even born. More than once Aaron had walked into a room to find her with her hands pressed into her bump, as she sang quietly.

“Of course, sweet girl. What do you want me to sing?”

Alice yawns, already getting heavier against Emily’s chest, her mother’s embrace her favourite safe place, “The sunshine song.”

She rests her cheek on top of Alice’s head and starts to sing, making sure she stays as quiet as possible so she doesn’t wake up Aaron.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

She feels Alice’s grip on her shirt loosen, and her breathing even out against her neck, and she blows out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to the little girl's forehead before she rests her head properly on her pillow, ready to try and find sleep again herself. Just as she closes her eyes she feels Aaron’s arm move, his hand shifting from her hip to rest over hers on Alice’s back, enveloping them both in his embrace.

“Is she okay?” He asks sleepily, his voice thick with sleep in a way that never failed to make her stomach flip, a delicious part of him that was only for her and their children.

“She’s okay,” she replies, turning her head to look at him, the sleepy concerned look on his face enough to make her smile. She stamps a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “She had a bad dream. Sorry we woke you.”

He shakes his head, letting her know he doesn’t need her apology, that he’d never be mad about how much she loved their children. He kisses her lips and then her shoulder as she lays back down properly, and he hums, “There are worse ways to be woken up than to you singing our daughter to sleep.”

___

They get woken up early the next morning by Penelope, an urgency to her voice that sends shivers down both of their spines when she says they have an amber alert in New Mexico that they’ve been asked to help with.

Aaron calls Jess whilst Emily gets Alice and Jack ready for the day, and they exchange hurried goodbyes once Jess has arrived. Hugs with their children that feel too quick as they rush out of the door, well aware that another child’s fate rested well and truly on their shoulders.

When they get to the jet they finally have a chance to ask for the details of the case, of the little girl who’d been snatched from outside of her home the evening before whilst her mother took in the washing.

Emily’s breath catches in her chest when she sees the file, and Penelope hesitates before she says the name of the missing girl. It’s a momentary reaction she can’t control, something that makes the rest of the team look at her, and makes Aaron place his hand on her thigh under the table. She rests her hand over his and links their fingers together, squeezing tightly as she clears her throat.

“Sorry,” she says, smiling tightly as she makes eye contact with JJ before she returns her attention to the laptop, “Pen, carry on.”

Penelope hesitates for a moment before Aaron clears his throat, making it clear he doesn’t want anyone drawing any more attention to his wife’s reaction, and she nods, blowing out a slow breath before she continues.

“Our victim's name is Alice Holmes. She was last seen…”

The rest of the briefing fades out for Emily as she stares at the screen of her iPad, the face of a little girl who had her daughter's name staring back at her.

___

It feels like she’s on a knife edge, every one of her nerves fried as she stares at the board with the victimology scattered across it.

This Alice looked nothing like her little girl. She was a couple of years older, the baby-fat Alice still had nowhere to be seen. She was blonde and had blue eyes, her hair almost pin straight in all the photos her parents had provided. Emily felt like it should be enough to convince herself that this was fine, that this wasn’t her daughter but someone else's and that she needed to hold herself together.

It didn’t make it any easier anytime someone said ‘Alice’ as they were describing the kidnapping, or when they talked about the awful things she was likely enduring if she was still alive. Every time she closed her eyes her little girl’s face flashed across them and she felt like she wanted to scream.

She knew Aaron wasn’t faring any better. His shoulders tenser than normal, his fuse short as they hit a few dead ends and had to go to their hotel at the end of their first day on the case. He holds her close as they Facetime their children, some of the tension that had built throughout the day eased by the sight of Alice and Jack happy and healthy under the care of their aunt.

Neither of them sleep well that night, waking in fits and starts. Taking it in turns to comfort the other when their subconscious taunted them in their dreams, very real things they’d both seen twisting into the situation they found themselves in.

By the end of the second day, they worry they won’t find Alice until it’s too late, the chances of finding her alive diminishing with each passing hour.

It’s Spencer who figures it out, his eidetic memory coming into play when he says he recognises the van for a cleaning company that had been parked outside of the Holmes’s house from the footage of the day Alice disappeared in CCTV from another, up until then, unrelated kidnapping.

She leans in and she spots it too, the large letters on the side of the van clear even in the grainy footage.

Ray Dawson Cleaning Services.

Penelope finds his address in record time, her relief palpable when she tells them he only lives an hour away.

___

After the arrest is made, Dawson claims his innocence as Derek roughly takes him away, shoving him into the back of a cop car with what she knows is restraint, Aaron asks her to go into the house first.

She understands why, knows she’s done it before, but it doesn’t help the way she feels. The way her chest feels hollowed out as they find the perfectly decorated bedroom for a little girl, something that looks like it was pulled out of a magazine, in Dawson’s basement. They have to force the door open because it is triple locked from the outside, the keys nowhere to be found and Dawson's decision to say this had nothing to do with him absolute, so she knows that Alice has to be somewhere in the room.

The light switches on, the small windowless room floods with light, and Emily hears shuffling under the bed. She turns and nods at JJ before she tilts her head at the door, silently telling her to go tell the others they’d found her. Once she’s alone she kneels near the bed and peers under it, her breath catching in her chest at the sight of the little girl she’d only seen pictures of curled up against the wall, fear painted across her face that was far too much for a five-year-old to feel.

“Hi Alice,” Emily says as she lays down, her body flat against the floor as she turns her head so she’s facing under the bed. Alice whimpers, holding a toy tight against her chest as she shies away, “My name’s Emily. I’m with the police.”

“Is he coming back?” Alice asks, her voice shaking, tears spilling out onto her cheeks, and Emily wants nothing more than to pull the little girl into her arms, to hold her like she’d want someone to hold her little girl until she could get there, but she knows it has to be her choice.

“No, honey. He’s not coming back,” she assures her, “When you’re ready, I’ll help you outside and your Mommy and Daddy are going to meet us at the hospital,” she adds, watching as Alice shrinks back into herself curling tighter against the wall at the mention of getting out from her place of safety. Emily sighs and tries to think how she could help, the sound of footsteps outside the room let her know the others were all there, waiting on her to bring the little girl out. She thinks of her daughter, and an idea starts to form in her head, “I have a little girl, she’s called Alice too.”

Alice makes eye contact with her for the first time, furrowing her brow a little, “Really?”

“Really,” Emily confirms, smiling as the 5-year-old relaxes a little, “She’s three so a little younger than you. My Alice…” she starts, having to clear her throat when she hears the shake in it, knowing this wasn’t the time for her emotions, how she felt about the last couple of days, “My Alice, when she’s scared or hurt she likes me to sing to her. Would you like me to sing to you?”

Alice nods immediately, loosening her grip on her toy, “Yes please.”

Emily smiles and puts her hand between them, still leaving space so she doesn’t get too close to Alice, but giving her the option of holding her hand if she wants to.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

As she sings Alice scoots closer, at first placing her hand over Emily’s, squeezing her hand around hers before she gets even closer. By the time Emily finishes singing Alice is near enough Emily can feel her breath on her face.

“Emily?” Alice asks, her hand tight in her shirt, wrapped around the material sticking out from the top of her bulletproof vest.

“Yes, honey?”

“Will you stay with me?”

Emily nods, taking a deep breath, pushing the rising emotions back down into her stomach, feeling it turn over with them, nausea she knew would take to shift making itself known, “I’ll stay with you until we see your Mommy and Daddy, okay?”

Alice stares at her for a moment before she nods and Emily smiles at her before she stands up, not even leaving it a second before she bends down and picks Alice up, hoisting her onto her hip. She tries to ignore the desperation in the little girl's hold on her, how tightly she clings to her neck. She carries her out of the room, cupping the back of her head as she presses her face into her neck, clearly not wanting to see the place where she’d been held or the people who had come to rescue her. It’s only when they get outside, when the fresh air hits them, that Alice looks up just as they are approaching Aaron who had been outside directing everything, his face serious as he talks to the lead detective. When he spots Emily and the little girl they’d been looking for sitting on her hip he pardons himself from the conversation and walks over.

Alice shies away from him, wary of men after everything she’d been through, and she whimpers as Emily tries to soothe her.

“It’s okay,” she says, “You remember I told you about my little girl?”

She sniffs as she looks at Emily, seemingly never ending tears slipping down her cheeks, “Your Alice.”

“Yeah,” Emily says, exchanging a look with her husband, “My Alice. This is her Daddy,” she says softly, “He’s going to take us to the hospital so you can see your Mommy and Daddy, is that okay?”

Alice nods, her grip on Emily only loosening a little bit, “That’s okay.”

Emily smiles and steps past Aaron to open the car door, settling into the back seat with Alice on her lap. Before she closes the door Aaron stops it, his hand on it as he looks at her, his concern clear, his stern expression fading away no one but her and the little girl they’d rescued could see her.

“Are you okay?”

He felt guilty for sending her in here first, for asking her to do something he knew would be difficult. It hadn’t been lost on him how hard the last couple of days had been on her, how the little girl that had been missing having the same name as their daughter had made a case that would already have been tough, even tougher. But she was the best at this, child advocacy something she was skilled in and cared deeply about, and it was no secret children largely trusted women over men - especially in a situation like this.

As her boss, he knew that sending her in had been the right thing to do. As her husband, he wished he didn’t have to be the one to ask it of her.

She smiles tightly at him as she holds Alice closer, grateful that the journey to the hospital was short because they didn’t have a car seat, “Later.”

He nods, knowing it’s the best he’s going to get for now, and he reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, a silent show of the love he’d wait to give her, “Later.”

___

They head straight from the hospital to the jet where the rest of the team are waiting.

Emily keeps her promise, she sits with Alice, the little girl all but glued to her side, until her parents arrive. Aaron stands in the corner of the room, answering the doctor’s questions as well as he could, keeping vigil over the little girl, who had the same name as his, and well as his wife, her nerves clearly close to fraying.

It felt like a lifetime ago when he hadn’t been able to read her, when he would have thought she was unaffected by most of the things he saw. He knew her better now, and had done since before their relationship shifted from friendship into more. She was good at compartmentalising, that was true, but it was because she’d been taught since she was young that her emotions weren’t as important as what was going on around her. A side effect of the political world she’d been raised in, a past she’d never quite outrun.

He could see it now. Could see how she ran her fingers through Alice’s hair like she was their Alice, how she clenched her jaw for a moment before she blew out a long slow breath whenever the little girl against her side asked her a question, getting herself ready to sound unaffected by what was going on around her.

It was nothing short of a privilege that he was the one those barriers would crumble around, that he was the person she trusted more than anyone else. He loved being there for her, he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone else.

When Alice’s parents arrive, they are horrified she’d only been an hour away whilst she was missing, so close and yet so far out of reach. The little girl clambers out of Emily’s embrace and into her mother’s, her tears back with a vengeance as she sinks into her arms, her father’s arms around the both of them. Once Alice has calmed down a little, her parents hug both Emily and Aaron, their embraces a little tighter when the little girl tells them their daughter is called Alice too, a hint of innocence in her voice as the weight of her words settles over the adults in the room.

The ride to the jet is silent. Emily stares out of the window, focusing on the town passing them by, the place she hoped to never have to visit again.

As they board the jet she ignores how the rest of the team is looking at her, the empathy on their faces almost too much for her to bear. They had purposely left two seats for her and Aaron together, an unspoken rule that had existed since the team found out about their relationship, and she lets Aaron slip into the window seat, something he doesn’t argue with as she sits next to him, her eyes fixed on the table in front of them.

The moment they can take their seatbelts off Emily is out of her seat, her back to the team as she steps into the kitchenette, the curtain pulled behind her so she can have a moment of privacy. She blows out a shaky breath as she places her palms on the small counter in the back, leaning some of her weight on it as she tries to catch her breath, to force everything she desperately didn’t want to feel until she was at home, until after she’d hugged her kids, back down.

If she started crying now, she wasn’t sure she’d stop.

She hears the swish of the curtain and familiar footsteps behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

“Em.”

She presses her lips together and turns to look at her husband, her arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the counter. She clears her throat, her eyes fixed on him, how he stands in just in the entryway to the kitchenette, his shoulders tense as he doesn’t know how to approach her. She clenches her teeth and blows a breath out through them.

“Can you make me some tea?” She asks, even though she’s closer to the hot water and the tea bags. He knows it’s an olive branch, her letting him look after her because she knows he needs to.

“Of course,” he says, stepping closer, purposely not touching her as he pours some hot water into a paper cup and grabs a chamomile tea bag. He looks at her, his gaze fixed on her side profile as she continues to stare ahead. She’d always been beautiful to him, even when he was married to someone else, and even now, simmering in her grief and where she’d let her mind wander the last few days, she was still gorgeous. The slope of her nose, the cut of her jaw, and her long lashes that were casting shadows onto her cheek. She was beautiful, and she was all his. “This feels like a stupid question,” he starts, his focus back on stirring her tea, “But I have to ask it, how are you?”

She scoffs, her arms tightening over her chest. She purposely keeps her voice low so it won’t be heard over the hum of the jet in the main part of the cabin, “Are you asking as my husband or as my boss?”

He turns to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Does my answer change yours?” He asks curiously, and she finally looks at him, her eyebrows raised, and he knows what she hasn’t said, “Your husband.”

She smiles sadly, her lower lip shaking in a way both of them ignore, “I had a hard day at work.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, moving to reach out for her but stopping, not wanting to push her, to be the thing that tipped her over the edge, “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s…” she chokes on a noise somewhere between a sob and laugh and she shakes her head, “It’s not your fault. It was the right call, I’ve done it before it’s just…that was hard. And I really wish it wasn’t your job to make the call, even though it was the right one.”

He sighs, familiar guilt filling his lungs, making it momentarily hard to breathe as he looks at his wife, her jaw tight as she avoids eye contact with him, “I wish it wasn’t my job either.”

“I know,” she nods, her smile strained as she looks at him, “And I know this wasn’t easy on you either,” she adds, “I’ll be okay, honey. I just need to get home and hug the kids,” she says, her chin trembling, “Hold them until I stop imagining them in her place,” she chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, “But we’re still five hours from home and they’ll be in bed by the time we get back.”

He watches as she reaches up to fiddle with the necklace he’d bought her last Christmas, two tiny disk pendants with the letters “J” and “A” stamped on them. He can’t hold himself back from touching her anymore and he places his hand on her hip, turning her to face him, a smile he hopes she finds comforting on his face.

“I know it’s not the same. But, until we get home you could always hug me,” he says, warmth spreading in his chest when a flash of a genuine smile breaks out over her face, “If you want to.”

She huffs out a laugh and closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking into him, something deep inside of her easing slightly when he holds her back just as fiercely, one of his hands firmly on her back whilst he uses the others to run his knuckles up and down her side. She presses her face into his neck and breathes him in, one of her hands shifting to cup the back of his head, her fingers digging into his hair.

“I always want to hug you,” she says softly, turning her head so her cheek is resting against his shoulder. She sighs contentedly, feeling something close to relaxed for the first time in days, and she smiles when she looks at the cup of tea on the side next to them, steam rising up from it and reaching her nose, the scent of her favourite tea to drink when she was stressed hitting her. She pulls back to look at him, her smile soft as she leans in to kiss him, her lips delicate against his, “Thank you for making my tea.”

He hears what she hasn’t said, what she won’t say until they are back at their house in the sanctuary they had built there together. No well-meaning friends just on the other side of a thin curtain desperately trying to hear them over the hum of the jet.

Thank you for loving me.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for being you.

He leans in and kisses her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her close, “Anytime, sweetheart.”

___

When they get home, she’s up the stairs before he even closes the front door. She toes off her shoes and shrugs off her coat on her way, leaving him to pick them up so she can go and see their children. He does it gladly, not making any gentle teasing comments he usually would about cleaning up after her.

He didn’t mind, he loved picking up the pieces of her that she’d allow to fall apart around him.

She barely says hello to Jess as they pass on the stairs, and Jess looks up the stairs at her curiously before she walks towards Aaron as the door to Jack’s room briefly opens and then closes.

“Is she okay?” Jess asks, her brows furrowed as she hugs him. He sighs as he hugs her back and he steps away, looking for her jacket for her.

“It was a case about a missing little girl,” he says, looking upstairs as Jack’s door opens again, only to be quickly followed by Alice’s, “Emily was the one who found her. Alive thank god.”

Jess winces sympathetically, and takes her jacket from him, “That’s rough.”

He hums, “Even rougher when you know the little girl is called Alice.”

She places her hand over her chest after she shrugs her jacket on, “Poor Emily,” she says, looking up the stairs before she looks back at him, “Poor you. Are you okay?”

He sighs and scratches the back of his head as he thinks about it, “I’ll be okay once I see her. And once I stop feeling guilty about sending Emily into the room she was being kept in first.”

Jess pulls him into another hug, “She understands your job, Aaron,” she assures him, patting his back before she steps away and heads towards the door, “It’s what makes you guys work. You’ll hold this against yourself a lot longer than she will.”

He hums and puts his hands on his hips, his eyebrow raised at her, “What made you such an expert on human behaviour?”

She chuckles and winks at him as she opens the door, “I’ve known you most of my life, some of it was bound to stick eventually,” she says as she steps onto the porch, “Get some sleep. Hug your wife. Everything will feel better tomorrow.”

He nods, “Thanks, Jess.”

She smiles at him one more time, “Any time.”

He sighs as she closes the door and he locks it behind her, double-checking the locks out of habit before he steps further into his quiet house. He puts their go-bags in the laundry room and then decides to head upstairs, desperate to see his family. He pops into Jack’s room and sees he’s fast asleep, his covers tucked up around him in a way that lets him know Emily had adjusted them when she came in to see him, the boy well known for wriggling out of them as he slept. He drops a kiss on his forehead, whispers his love against his skin, and then slips back out of the room, not wanting to wake him.

When he walks into Alice’s room his breath catches in his chest at the sight he’s met with, his two girls fast asleep and wrapped around each other. Emily was pressed up against the wall on top of the covers having climbed in with Alice when she came in to see her, still wearing her clothes from work, curled up so she could fit in the small bed. Alice is pressed against her, her hand loosely tangled in her mother’s shirt, and Aaron can just picture her waking up just enough to realise Emily was there with her before she fell back asleep, comforted by the fact her mother was home.

Aaron briefly considers waking Emily up, knowing that her back wouldn’t thank her for sleeping in this position in the morning, but he knows she needs this, that their daughter was the comfort she’d been seeking since they’d last seen her. She was an excellent mother, better than she ever gave herself credit for, and he never felt anything less than blessed when he thought about the fact she’d chosen him as the father to her children.

He briefly walks out into the hallway and pulls a blanket out of the linen closet before he steps back into the bedroom. He lays the blanket over his wife, making sure to tuck it around her so she doesn’t get cold. He kisses the top of Alice’s head, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her no tear shampoo, and he whispers against her hair.

“Love you, Princess,” he says, kissing her head again before he turns his attention to his wife, tension in his chest easing when he sees how relaxed she is. He kisses her cheek, “Love you, sweetheart.”

She grumbles, waking up ever so slightly, “Aaron?”

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he says, kissing her cheek again, running his fingers through her hair to soothe her, not entirely convinced she was actually awake, her eyes still closed, “You and Alice get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

She hums, tightening her hold on their daughter, and he kisses her cheek again as she mumbles just loud enough for him to hear, “Love you.”

“Love you too, Em.”

He sleeps fitfully in the big bed all alone, not used to all of the space to himself, for a couple of hours until she comes in, her eyes bleary with a sleeping Alice in her arms as she passes the little girl over to him so she can actually get ready for bed. She smiles gratefully at him as he settles their daughter against his chest and she leans in to kiss him, her lips pressed against his as she silently thanks him again for knowing her, for always knowing what she needed even when she didn’t.

When she climbs into bed with him, Alice sandwiched between them, they fall asleep quickly. Safe and content in their own home with their daughter with them and their son asleep just down the hall.

-x-

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wehaveimagineshere · 2 months

Note

Heyyyyy it's Couldn't Sleep aka inciting Carlos request back at it again. I was wondering if I could ask for a sort of pseudo-followup I guess? Where the reader has a nightmare about their not-so-great childhood and Carlos comforts them and tells them it's ok to cry and they're finally safe now. I uh....... didn't have a great night. cptsd for the win. Anyway love you, Ren. Hope you have a good day. Again, thanks for writing my other prompt. I'm gonna try and get a nap in today I'm still so sleepy.

I'm so sorry this is coming out so late! I hope you were able to sleep and you've been getting okay sleep since you sent this in. CPTSD is not fun ever, and I'm so sorry you have to struggle with it. Remember that you're strong, courageous, terrifying, and you can shake the world off its axis if you put your mind to it <3

But most of all, you're safe. Especially in Carlos' arms <3

~*~*~

It's a prison that you can almost forget about.

Its claws can become almost blanket soft, a whisper against the skin. Its footsteps can fit almost perfectly into your own, the same shoe size and indent in the sand. Its voice can become nigh indistinguishable from your own, praise and happiness flowing freely.

But in the end it is still a prison. Its claws still sharp, digging canyons into your arms, your chest. Hounding your every step, threatening to trip you up. Telling you foul and disgusting lies, wrapping you into a world of darkness and fear.

It is a prison you have yet to find the exit to, as you go from one room to another. As you are once again forced to relive what should only be distant memories, distance feelings, the claws digging deeper and deeper into your flesh. You try to remind yourself of the people who matter, who care about you, but it tries so desperately to hold you in place, to keep it company in the rot infested darkness. Choking you, trapping you.

And all you can do is scream. Scream into an endless void that swallows your very sound, your very heartbeat, what makes you you as you endlessly struggle, the blood endlessly pouring down your limbs and pooling at your feet.

An endless ocean, suffocating, thick--

Your eyes fly open as you jerk up, lungs struggling to suck down air as you scramble backward, back hitting the headboard, eyes darting to asses the threat, to find the exits--

"The door is over there, and it's open."

You hear him before you see him, a small gesture capturing your gaze as he points. Fear roots you in place, eyes boring into his, watching his body language, his expression, waiting for--

He's at the edge of the bed. No, he's standing at the foot, arms up, palms pointed your way.

Something eases in your chest.

"You're okay," you hear him say as the fear crashes, leeching your limbs of energy. "You're safe, sweetheart."

Glancing once more about the room, you note the drawn curtains, the cracked window. The rumpled blankets at the foot of the bed and to your side, too far away for you to have done it yourself. The water bottle on your bedside table, unopened, and indeed the bedroom door ajar.

Looking up once more, you finally take in Carlos. Shirtless, hair askew, shoulders tense, you recognize the look he's giving you as your muscles finally relax.

"Carlos," you whisper, dragging your knees up to your chest and hugging them tight.

"Hey, honey. I'm here. What do you need?"

All you can do is reach out a hand.

He moves slowly, deliberately, giving you all the time in the world to shift away as he crawls back onto the bed, hand grasping yours and bringing it to his chest, pressing your palm above his heart.

"You're safe, sweetheart," he repeats, bringing his free hand up to gently wipe away the tears you didn't realize had escaped. "You're home, with me. And I won't let anything hurt you, you know that."

You nod.

He reaches over, gently drawing you against his chest, loose enough so you can back out if needed.

Instead you melt into him, the tears coming freely, wracking your body as sobs escape. You're so tired but so wired, your brain struggling to align itself out of the dream and flashbacks, trying to remind itself that you're safe now.

You've always been safe with him. Especially as Carlos tucks you in close, his heartbeat now in your ears, a steady, constant rhythm in your life.

"You're safe," he says again, quieter, as his fingers run across your shoulders, your back. "You're safe. Take a deep breath." You do, holding it until until he says to let go. As you take your fourth breath he reaches to grab the water bottle. "Here. Take a drink."

It takes a moment to open the cap, but the cool water sliding down your chest helps ease more of the tension, cooling the stove heating your blood. Sighing, you set the bottle down and rub your face. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Having a nightmare? I get them too."

"For waking you up. For..." For the fear, the sadness, the helplessness, the anger, for a damaged version of yourself. "For this."

"And what is this?" he asks, brushing more tears from your cheeks. "For how amazing you are? For how you're ride or die for the people you care about? How badass you are every day?"

"I--"

"Sure, maybe you put dye in my shampoo once and I walked around with green hair for a week. But it was Saint Patrick's Day. Most people wear a green shirt or something, I had green hair."

A smile tugs at your lips.

"I had people come up to me going, 'Carlos! What awesome hair!' and I went, 'Thanks! My partner gave it to me!' and then got to listen to how smart and cool they thought the idea was."

"You put dye in my hot chocolate and turned my tongue blue in retaliation."

"We're not talking about that right now."

This time you chuckle, and the sound prompts Carlos to kiss the top of your head. "Wanna help me brainstorm ways to turn all of my coworker's tongues blue?"

"Do I get anything out of it?"

"Aside from being the mastermind? Maybe a kiss or two. Depends on how well your plan works."

Shifting your head up, you give him a smile and kiss his jaw. "Deal."

#resident evil #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira/reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira/gn reader #carlos oliveira x gn reader

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x1702x · 3 months

Note

For Honest favourite characters asks: Do 3, 8, 11, 13, 18 and 43 for Gehrman! Open the floodgate

Wanting to make me cry as always? yep.

3. What first drew you to this character?

Gehrman drew me in mostly because I found him endearing, just an old geezer telling you what to do, I enjoyed hearing his dialogue, his voice is calming to me.

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

His design is very solid, I like how peaceful he looks hunched over with his cane and then suddenly kicking your ass, besides, HIS HEIGHT? How did all thay hide so casually in that chair?? Grandpa go take ur meds

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

My liking of Gehrman grew once I figured his background, I pity him a lot, you see, I've mostly dealed with old people in my life, I used to take visits to my great uncle's residence and I grew fond of the people there. Many are there alone without their family visiting or any grandchildren, I liked talking to them and hearing stories of their lives, being their "surrogate grandchild" in a way.

But since he passed, I believe 2019, I stopped going there since I wasn't a visit anymore. But I had fun there and made acquaintances with some old ladies :) It was nice to see Old people have fun and be so alive.

A year ago my drama club used to take its classes at an eldery center, they were very polite to our group and loved seeing us act, we gave them many laughs and joys. I don't usually cry much about things unless its something i resonate with, and Gehrman just hits different, he's lonely and his only company being the doll (The literal living image of Maria) whos a constant reminder of someone that isnt there with him, you know, it sinks someone down. Ive known people like that, which i think is the main reason I sob over him and yadda yadda. Hes just full of pain and it hurts my soul.

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

Perhaps something with Maria, tender at most. I dont know, but I want to see him happy. I really do.

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

Peace. He has struggled for long and the way he ends in the game is tragic, no ending will bring him or anyone peace, the moon presence lurks and still wins, you become her surrogate child, another puppet, or continue Gehrman's suffering.

I really wish people saw further than the stereotype they so wrongly put on him of "Creepy old man" Its VERY incorrect and really dims his potential. He's more than "some weirdo stuck on Maria's backstory" He was the first hunter!! He literally made a deal with an eldritch being for hunters to have a respite, brushing aside his life. Hes literally stuck in a nightmare! Aghh,,, sorry im ranting too much but I just appreciate him a lot like errm thats my GRANDPA ur talkin shit about ermm.......

#asks #gehrman the first hunter #the crypt opens once again

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autobot2001 · 5 months

Text

Not a Happy New Year Snippet

Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: T Warnings: blood, poor mental health Description: Jamie is found by a soldier and brought to the media seriously injured. Everyone can't believe what happened, but her guardians struggle the most. This is the portion that fits all the prompts for Whumpuary.

Day 1: snow Day 2: collapse Day 3: stumbling Day 4: lightheaded Day 5: “Stay please.” Day 6: exhaustion. Day 7: drugged. Day 8: “You look awful.” Day 9: Alt 8: blood loss. Day 10: can’t stay awake Day 11: blood Day 12: “You’re awake.” Day 13: barely conscious, “I’m fine.” Day 14: breakdown Day 15: Aftermath

Other promotes used; Alt 1: Stabbed, Alt 2: “let me see.” Alt 5: headache Alt 8: blood loss

A male soldier walks along the path, enjoying how quiet it is. Even with how large the military base is they like walking around the paths outside. Even in the middle of winter. Despite the paths being cleared, snow still coats the paths, but they are walkable. Someone stumbling in three feet of snow instead of walking on the path alarms the soldier. “Hey, are you ok?” He asks. Recognizing the person, the soldier becomes worried about her condition. The female feels lightheaded. Before the soldier can grab her, the female collapses in the snow. The soldier watches as the snow turns red. With no time for first aid, they rush the woman to the medbay. The female whimpers as the soldier picks her up.

“Help!” The soldier yells as they rush into the medbay waiting room. Panicking that no one is at the reception desk. They run through the doors to the rest of the medbay. “Help!” They yell again. “What’s going —” Jasmine sees who the soldier is holding and lets out a gasp, “Jolt! Ratchet!” The two mechs rush out of their offices, horrified at what they’re seeing. The soldier follows the medics to the emergency care room. Patients for this room arrive by medivac or Ratchet’s ambulance alt mode. The soldier lies the female on the medical table. He's uncertain about waiting in the room. He can’t watch the medics once he sees how critical the female is. He goes to the waiting room. I can’t believe this. Ratchet thinks. Jamie has been in the medbay before, but this time is unlike any other. She has never been brought to this room before. Once the three medics remove Jamie's clothes, they can't believe what they're seeing'; many stab wounds all over her body. “She was fragging attacked!” Jolt rages. “Get a blood transfusion going,” Ratchet orders Jasmine, “and test her blood count. The three are aware that Jamie is in hemorrhagic shock but unsure of its severity. Jasmine gets a blood bag and a syringe to draw blood. Jolt puts in a large-bore IV for rapid delivery of fluids and blood. Jolt prepares an IV bag of crystalloids. “I think we should intubate her,” Jolt advises, “airway protection for now. No positive pressure.” Jamie's injuries are the final concern. Especially the cuts on her abdomen. The three medics hope Jamie won't need surgery.

The soldier isn’t told to stay or leave as Jamie’s guardians, sister, and Optimus come to hear what happened to Jamie. The medics were surprised to see the terror twins with Crosshairs and Drift, but the twins are not asked to leave. Even though this news will infuriate Sunstreaker. As Ratchet finishes explaining the situation, Sunstreaker's anger intensifies, while Lightning, Sideswipe, and Optimus become angrier. Crosshairs and Drift remember the nightmare situation they went through, Terrified it’s happening all over. The soldier knows about the Autobots' call the nightmare situation, which brings up painful memories for Crosshairs and Drift, despite their numerous battles. The soldier watches as the medics make Crosshairs and Drift sit on the chairs close to them. “Do you know who did it?” Sunstreaker asks. “N-no, I wish I did,” the soldier tells him. Sunstreaker growls and leaves the medbay. “Great, he’s going to try to find them,” Sideswipe sighs. “The paths don’t have cameras,” Optimus points out, “Red Alert won’t be able to help us.” “Maybe the cameras by the doors can help find out who attacked Jamie?” The soldier asks. “Perhaps,” Optimus replies and leaves the medbay. “Let me see her,” Drift says, fear in his voice. “I don’t think that’s —,” Ratchet argues. “Let me see her!”The two medics nod, telling Ratchet to let Jamie’s guardians and sister see her even though they’ll hate her condition. They ask the soldier to come with them. The medics worry about the reaction they’ll see from the three worried friends.

Ratchet and Jolt make Crosshairs and Drift sit on the chairs that were already moved by the bed. Tears roll down Crosshairs and Drift’s faces. “Sit down,” Jasmine whispers to Lightning “I’m fine. Well, compared to them.” The soldier knows he’s seeing a fraction of the sadness Crosshairs and Drift deal with. Seeing their relationship with Jamie. He knows Lightning is close to Jamie, but not like Crosshairs and Drift. Despite the medics' decision not to disclose Jamie's injuries, the bag of blood is a clear indicator of the seriousness. The stitched cuts on Jamie’s arm that was lifted from under the blanket also gives clues about how badly the soldiers hurt Jamie. The soldier isn’t sure how injured Jamie is, but the blood he saw on her clothes told him she was heavily bleeding. “Should we tell them she’s not in an induced coma?” Jasmine whispers to Ratchet. “No, they’re going to struggle as it is without knowing further details about Jamie’s condition. It would be the same to wait for her to get stronger before stopping the medically induced coma. She might wake up in two days once she recovered from the blood loss. However, I'd rather not inform them right now.” “I’m going to go now and let them be with her,” the soldier tells Ratchet. “No, stay, please,” Drift says while standing up. Everyone watches him lead the soldier to where he was sitting. The soldier doesn’t understand why he’s allowed to sit here. He saved Jamie, but he never interacted with her or her guardians prior to today. He’s just another soldier in the base. So why the privilege of sitting by Jamie and in Drift’s way? Drift stands next to him. Lightning stands next to Crosshairs, who hugs her.

“What?!” Red Alert and Prowl ask. I can’t believe this is happening again. Prowl thinks. Red Alert immediately checks the security footage near the back entrance of the base. The three mechs hope they can get evidence and arrest the soldiers who attacked Jamie.

“Did you find out who attacked her?” Sunstreaker asks as the three mechs walk out of the security office. “Yes, you will not engage with them,” Optimus replies, “it’s better you and Sideswipe help Crosshairs, Drift, and Lightning.” Sunstreaker doesn’t want to let the soldiers get arrested rather than killed by him, but he worries about his three friends and Sideswipe. He heads to the medbay.

Sideswipe stands in the hallway by an ICU room. “It’s bad,” he tells Sunstreaker, “I had to step out but I can’t leave, you know?” Sunstreaker looks in the room, at the bed Jamie lies in. “Yeah, I know. They’ll need us, but it’s hard seeing her like that. This has happened twice now. I'm concerned about the possibility of this happening again and Lily becoming a target. “What the frag are they thinking? They’re just going to get arrested. Unless…. they’re trying to get Optimus to decide Jamie shouldn’t be here.” “Still, how’s that benefiting them? They’re arrested and in prison. I hope this stops. Even with how difficult her mental health is, she needs to be here. She needs them.” Sideswipe looks into the room from the window. The medics have returned to their offices. Sunstreaker goes to talk to Ratchet.

“Is there anything you can tell me?” Sunstreaker asks. “Only that she might wake up in a day or two, but she’ll be weak. You don’t want to know the extent of her injuries. I hope this stops.” “I worry Lily could be a target even if Sideswipe is right about soldiers trying to get Jamie banned from coming here. “This is a serious problem. We’ll tell Optimus after Jamie recovers. He’s already worried about her, having to arrest soldiers, and if this could happen again.”

The terror twins, Lightning and the soldi get Crosshairs and Drift to go to the cafeteria for lunch. Everyone is worried about leaving the medbay, but Ratchet will make them if they don’t leave to eat. The six hate how everyone else will know what happened.

Everyone who found out what happened want to help their friends but know nothing will help until Jamie recovers from the attack.

“You look awful,” Crosshairs points out, worried “I’m fine,” Drift claims. Two days passed, Drift doesn’t sleep and eats very little. Crosshairs worries about Drift’s energon level. Knowing how little he’s eaten would affect a human at this point and how using their holoform uses the energon in their Cybertronian bodies. He watches Drift stumble down the hall. He follows the mech to the medbay.

Jolt and Ratchet notice Drift’s poor state. They struggle to get him into an exam room. Drift’s holoform is strong, but he’s struggling to break free from the medics’ grip. A hint for the two medics of how unwell Drift is. Jasmine doesn’t wait for orders before getting a syringe of lorazepam. The three mechs don’t question her before she injects the drug. Thankful Drift is wearing a T-shirt. The drug is fast acting, and the medics get Drift on the exam table before he’s asleep. “Mental breakdown,” Ratchet sighs, “I should have known this would happen,” he watches Crosshairs sit on the chair in the room, “don’t tell me you’re ok.” “I…,” Crosshairs doesn’t know what to say as tears roll down his face. He should talk to Rung, but I don’t think that’ll help. Ratchet believes. Jasmine watches the two mechs, hoping she won’t have to drug Crosshairs. Ratchet calms Crosshairs the best he can with the situation going on and lets him stay in the exam room with Drift. Crosshairs doesn’t wait for the three medics to leave before crying. “I just think how Jamie still feels alone even with how close the three are,” Jasmine sighs. Ratchet hugs her. Both worry about the two mechs. Hating there’s nothing he or Rung can do to help the two mechs.

Crosshairs realizes he’s been neglecting himself as he now has a terrible headache and feels dehydrated. He can’t stop worrying about Drift and hiding how he’s doing. Jasmine walks in to check on the two mechs. “You ok?” “Headache,” Crosshairs mumbles. Jasmine leaves the room, returning a few minutes later. “Here, this will help,” Jasmine says, handing Crosshairs a small cup of water and a pack with two pills, “he’ll be asleep for another hour.” “I’ll stay here. I shouldn’t use the remaining exam room.” “Ok I’ll be back in an hour.” Jasmine leaves the room. Crosshairs turns off the lights and sits on the floor by the counter. He rests his head on his arms. Tears roll down his face. We deal with her mental health and condition. Jamie has been wanting to be dead, which is causing more anxiety for Drift and I. Now this. It’s getting harder to act ok for Drift, but I have to even if he hates I do this. We both want Jamie to be happy, but it’s been feeling impossible to help her. Now we have to worry about soldiers attacking her.

Crosshairs looks at Drift, seeing his friend sleeping with the little light from the gap in the curtains. I want to say Jamie will be ok, but even if she will be from the attack, she’s not ok mentally. Crosshairs sighs.

Drift stares at the ceiling, having no memory of falling asleep. He feels what he’s lying on, realizing it’s an exam table. The mech is now confused why he was sleeping in the exam room and has no memory of Ratchet telling him he could. He opens the curtains a little before seeing Crosshairs sitting on the floor, asleep. “Crosshairs?” Drift gently shakes the sleeping mech. Crosshairs tiredly looks at him, “you ok?” “Other than a stiff neck, yes,” Crosshairs replies, rubbing his neck. Drift sighs, uncertain if he can believe Crosshairs knowing how he hides how he’s feeling, but he’d rather not argue with his friend as they worry about Jamie. Drift sits beside Crosshairs and puts his head on Crosshairs’ shoulder. Crosshairs takes Drift’s hand and the two sit quietly.

They don’t know how much time passed until they hear Drift’s stomach. “Come on, you need to eat,” Crosshairs says while standing up, “then we’ll see Jamie.” He pulls Drift up and the two leave the room. Letting Ratchet know they’ll be back before leaving.

“They will not like seeing Jamie still needs blood,” Jasmine sighs, “more evidence of how injured she is.” “We can’t tell them not to come here either,” Ratchet says, “that’ll be worse for them.” “They’ll find out about all the stab wounds and cuts,” Jolt points out. “Unfortunately, yes, but let them worry about how Jamie is in a coma and needing blood transfusions. That’s hard enough on them.” Ratchet goes to get another bag of blood.

“I can’t believe this happened,” Ratchet sighs and takes Jamie’s hand, “bad enough you struggle mentally while here rather than feeling this is an escape.” He sits on the chair by the bed, worried about Crosshairs and Drift’s mental decline as they wait for Jamie to wake up. He’s been worried about their mental health as Jamie’s worsens, but he knows how this is causing memories of the nightmare situation to resurface. Ratchet knows he could tell them Jamie will be ok, no chance of declining, but the two won’t be able to relax.

Crosshairs watches Drift struggle to eat. Worried how long before this affects Drift’s energon level and how long before he too struggles to eat. Meanwhile Drift worries Crosshairs is continuing to act like he’s ok. Worried that if Crosshairs can eat, how long before he struggles? Worried Crosshairs forced himself to eat and ends up throwing up.

The two don’t know the terror twins and Lightning watch them from the entrance to the cafeteria. “I hate we can’t help them,” Lightning says. “I don’t think they’d be doing much better if they could forget the nightmare situation,” Sunstreaker believes, “they’re with Jamie much more than we are. They know how much she’s struggling more than we do.” “They think they’re protecting us from feeling the way they feel, but I think we just feel more sadness in place of the anxiety they feel,” Sideswipe adds. The three leave before they’re spotted and go to the medbay.

The three worry about seeing the larger bag of blood on the IV pole. They know Crosshairs and Drift will not like seeing that. “You don’t think she’s bleeding internally, do you?” Sideswipe whispers. “Ratchet would have made sure she wasn’t by now,” Sunstreaker replies, “it’s not reassuring knowing the issue is blood loss from her injuries.” Lightning and Sideswipe sit on the chairs while Sunstreaker stands behind them. They notice her blood pressure is low on the monitor and it wasn’t a few hours ago. Hoping this is normal and Ratchet isn’t failing to notice internal bleeding. Lightning lifts the blanket, seeing Jamie’s wrapped abdomen and more stitched wounds. The twins also see this. “Damn, I figured it was bad looking at her arms, but this….,” Sideswipe trails off. “That’s why I’m not telling them,” the three hear Ratchet, “they have enough to worry about. They’ll find out how bad the rest of the wounds are soon. Jamie will be awake long before I can remove the stitches.” “Can I please go kill the bastards?” Sunstreaker asks. “No, we need to worry about if this will happen again or if Lily could be a target,” Ratchet replies. “This is so fragged up,” Lightning comments, continuing to look under the blanket. Sunstreaker pulls the blanket down. “It’s depressing enough seeing her arms and her guardians struggling,” he tells her. The three worry about what does Jamie’s chest look like? The thought of stab wounds close to her heart terrifies them.

Crosshairs and Drift walk into the room ten minutes later. Both mechs see the IV bag that looks bigger and has more blood than what they saw three hours ago. Both worry about how much blood Jamie lost and the wounds they can’t see. Sideswipe moves to allow Drift to sit by the bed. It’s been two days. Drift worries. Why is she still needing blood transfusions? Drift makes the mistake of looking at the monitor, seeing Jamie’s low blood pressure. This can’t be good. He worries. Something is wrong for her to get worse now.

“He saw,” Jasmine tells Ratchet as he sits behind his desk. “I was hoping he wouldn’t, but I knew the chance was slim. There’s no sudden internal bleeding. Even with thirty percent blood loss, this delay in blood pressure drop concerns me. For now, the chemical in her blood isn’t delaying recovery.” “Something isn’t right. I think when the four leave, we should do a CT scan.” Though it’s an unusual route, both medics are hoping Jamie is recovering and won’t find internal bleeding. That would delay her recovery and when she’ll wake up.

An hour passes. The three medics watch the terror twins and Lightning struggle to get both Crosshairs and Drift to leave. “They both saw, and are terrified,” Ratchet believes. “Taking Jamie to get a CT scan will add to the fear, but Jasmine is right. We better do one,” Jolt adds.

The three medics tell the friends to stay and what they’re going to do. This worries the three friends and, as Jolt said, terrifies Crosshairs and Drift. The three friends stay with Crosshairs and Drift in Ratchet’s office. Ratchet informs Rung. “I don’t know if I can help them, but I’ll be there in a second,” Rung tells Ratchet.

Optimus follows Rung into the medbay. Worried about the reason for his visit to the medbay. He hates how terrified Crosshairs and Drift are and that the twins and Lightning are more worried about Jamie. As Rung thought, telling Crosshairs and Drift the CT scan is a precaution doesn’t calm the two. Drift hugs Crosshairs, who feels him trembling. He’s terrified and thinking Jamie will need emergency surgery. Crosshairs realizes. The medics didn’t seem concerned. He’s not overreacting after what we’ve been through and the fear we’ll lose Jamie. What do I say? The others watch, uncertain what to say. The medics could be wrong and Jamie could end up in emergency surgery. “You three don’t have to stay here,” Optimus tells the twins and Lightning, “at least wait in the waiting room.” The three understand what he’s saying and walk down the hall. Optimus looks into the office, worried about the two mechs. “I hate not knowing how to help them,” Rung sighs, “it’s not just the nightmare situation. It’s Jamie’s mental decline also affecting them. The fear they’ll lose her, but watching her fight for her life causes them to be afraid when she ends up in the medbay.” The two go into the office and close the door. Hoping to help Drift without causing more anxiety to Crosshairs.

“Nothing,” Jolt tells the other two medics, as he watches the monitor display what the machine sees. “This is good, but also concerning why this turn?” Ratchet questions, “we’ll put her on medication to raise her blood pressure. There’s no other evidence that she’s still in shock.” “We should tell them she’s doing ok,” Jasmine tells him, “even with her low blood pressure and the wait for her to wake up.”

The three medics didn’t think Optimus and Rung would be with Crosshairs and Drift. By now, Crosshairs is worried about what the three will say. Crosshairs hugs Drift as the four are told about the scan results. “.. she’ll be ok, but I don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Ratchet finishes. Ratchet figured Drift would ask to sleep in Jamie’s room. The cot would cram the room, which would make it challenging to reach Jamie. “He can handle medical emergencies,” Jolt argues, “though I think Jamie won’t decline. Show him the medication we’ve been giving her, just in case.” Her blood pressure is low, but I don’t think it’ll drop to a critical level. Drift believes. Still, I need to be by her. Crosshairs says nothing. He’ll sleep in an exam room if he has to. An exam room wouldn’t be used in the middle of the night compared to the ICU room next door. He hopes this will help Drift get some sleep. “Now, will you two please go relax?” Optimus asks Crosshairs and Drift. “Come on we’ll come back in three hours after dinner,” Crosshairs says and gets Drift to go with him “I’m not lying to them,” Ratchet says once the two are far down the hall. “I know you wouldn’t as much as you hate giving them bad news,” Optimus tells him, “I hope we can end this. Even if it’s been three years since the last time soldiers attacked her, this is fragged up.” Optimus sits by Jamie’s bed. The medics go back to their offices and Rung leaves the medbay. Hoping to check on Crosshairs and Drift.

Crosshairs and Drift return to the medbay at eight. By now Drift is exhausted. He's hesitant to sleep because he fears being awoken by an alarm alerting a medical emergency.

Ratchet does the last check on Jamie of the night. Drift sees her blood pressure is going up. “One more infusion should be enough,” Ratchet tells him, “her levels are normal, and she doesn’t need another blood transfusion. You don’t have to worry about an emergency.” Ratchet cleans up the supplies and leaves the room. Crosshairs sits on the chair, watching Drift as he kisses Jamie and lies on the cot. Even while he’s looking at Drift’s back, Crosshairs can tell when Drift is asleep. He worries about Drift’s mental health even with the good news the two got today. Drift is asleep in under five minutes. Crosshairs stays for a few minutes before going to an exam room to sleep. Hoping Drift will do better while they wait for Jamie to wake up.

Crosshairs wakes up, hyperventilating. The sun shines through the window. Crosshairs’ phone says it’s six in the morning. He sits on the edge of the exam table, questioning why he had a nightmare about losing Jamie even after the good news yesterday. This has him worried about Drift. He goes to Jamie’s room.

Crosshairs stands in the doorway, seeing Drift still asleep. He sees Jamie’s vitals aren’t critical. This has him more confused about the nightmare he had. I hope they’ll both do better today. Crosshairs thinks as he continues to look into the room at his friends.

“What happened?” Jasmine asks. “I…”

Jasmine leads Crosshairs into her office. “You ok?” “I don’t know why I had a terrifying nightmare,” Crosshairs tells her, “I don’t know if it’s a glimpse into the future or random. Jasmine doesn’t have to ask for details to know how his nightmare frightened him. Delayed response, as always. Jasmine suspects. Either he couldn’t continue to act ok, or the fear of losing Jamie resulted in the nightmare, even with the good news yesterday. “She’ll be ok,” Jasmine assures him. Crosshairs goes with her back to the room.

Crosshairs sits on the chair as Jasmine checks on Jamie. “Her blood pressure is normal,” Jasmine tells him, “all other vitals are normal. I think she’s done needing blood work. I’ll test her blood.” Crosshairs realizes Jasmine has a vial of blood in her hand. He didn’t see Jasmine get supplies to draw blood. Jasmine looks at Drift before leaving. Happy he’s getting some sleep.

“Everything is good,” Jasmine tells Ratchet as she hands him the paper with the blood work results, “her blood pressure is normal. Would be great if this could tell us when she’ll wake up.” “I know. Could be in the next twenty-four hours or a couple of days.” “Crosshairs had a nightmare about Jamie even after the good news yesterday. I don’t think either of them will be ok hearing it could be two days. I worry about the three of them when she wakes up.” “What a fragging disaster. So glad severe flare-ups are under control. They wouldn't be able to handle those flare-ups happening frequently like they happened the first few years after Vegeta poisoned Jamie. “I don’t think anyone could. The fear she could die.” Ratchet sees Drift still asleep and Crosshairs sitting on the chair by Jamie’s bed. At least Drift is getting good sleep. Ratchet thinks. Hopefully Crosshairs doesn’t deal with any more nightmares.

Crosshairs ends up falling asleep for three hours. With a stiff neck, he looks at Drift. He’s getting good sleep. Crosshairs thinks. After not sleeping well the past two days and I know he’s been tiring quickly with how anxious he’s been. “You have to stop sleeping like that,” he hears Ratchet before realizing the mech is standing next to him, “you want to feed her? I was waiting for you to move, but it’s already ten.” “I’ll take care of her.” Ratchet hands Crosshairs the supplies and leaves the room.

Before Crosshairs can do anything, he watches Drift move on the cot under the blanket. He waits a few minutes. Watching Drift slowly wake up. He smiles as Drift looks at him, hoping Drift will not worry that something is wrong. Crosshairs tells him what he was about to do and lets Drift feed Jamie. The two stand by the bed, hoping Jamie will wake up. Worried about after she wakes up as they look at her arms. They are certain she has wounds on her legs and abdomen and worry there are wounds on her chest. Both are afraid to see if any wounds are close to where the heart is. To see how close the soldiers were to killing her. “Crosshairs?” Drift asks, not liking how Crosshairs is looking, “frag.” Drift stops pushing down on the syringe pump and puts it on the bed. He guides Crosshairs onto the floor. Worried about how Crosshairs seems unaware. They were close to killing her. Crosshairs thinks, remembering his nightmare. Crosshairs blinks as he looks at Drift, seeing how worried he is. Which worries him. He questions if he passed out. “Crosshairs? Are you ok?” Crosshairs hates how worried Drift is. While Drift suspects Crosshairs acting like he’s ok is backfiring on him. He leans on Drift while the mech hugs him. Drift doesn’t know what to say. This situation is hard for both of them and many others. “Shit, do I need to get a medic?” A familiar voice asks, “should I leave?” The soldier that got Jamie to the medbay stands in the doorway. “No, it’s ok. He’ll be fine.” Drift thought Crosshairs would get up by now. The soldier sits on the chair in the corner, concerned about Crosshairs.

It’s a few minutes before Crosshairs lets Drift get up to finish feeding Jamie. “She’s doing much better,” Drift tells the soldier as he cleans up the supplies, “it’s a waiting game for her to wake up. Then I don’t know. I worry about her seeing all the stitched wounds.” “Are you two ok?” The soldier asks, “I know it sounds like a stupid question.” “I can’t believe there are still soldiers who want to physically attack her,” Drift replies, “mentally is disgusting and Sunstreaker has been trying to warn the soldiers to leave Jamie and Lily alone,” Crosshairs nods to say this is how he feels, “are you ok? You found her.” “I knew she was bleeding heavily, but I didn’t think it resulted from being stabbed and cut many times. It was clear if I found her two minutes later, she would have been in more serious trouble.” The three leave the room and go to the cafeteria.

(skipping parts of the story)

“You’re awake,” Drift smiles, though Jamie is barely conscious. He knows she won’t be able to stay awake for long. He sits by the bed and takes her hand as she watches him. Another way Drift knows Jamie is barely conscious is the lack of wanting the breathing tube out, “you’ll be ok.” Jamie blinks, unable to stay awake, “go to sleep.” Drift kisses Jamie’s forehead. He sits back on the chair and watches Jamie fall asleep. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Crosshairs stands behind him, smiling. “I told you she’d be out of it,” Crosshairs says, “she’ll be ok. Come on, let’s go tell Ratchet.”

The three medics are in Ratchet’s office. They’re all happy to hear Jamie woke up. They knew she’d be back asleep. “I’m going to wait until she wakes up to remove the breathing tube,” Ratchet tells them. “I’m not looking forward to her finding out about all the wounds,” Jasmine says, looking at Crosshairs and Drift. Ratchet sighs, “you guys know why I’ve been waiting to let you two see the rest of her injuries. It’s best to see how before she’s alert. I kept her only in her underwear and bra. She can wear clothes.” The five go into the ICU room.

End of the snippet. I hope you enjoyed it. The full story will be posted here, A03, FFN & Wattpad hopefully soon.

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ravelights · 2 years

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I posted 453 times in 2022

That's 403 more posts than 2021!

125 posts created (28%)

328 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@redoaktreehill

@gentrychild

@ravelights

@rain-coat-killer

@psychomurderz

I tagged 276 of my posts in 2022

Only 39% of my posts had no tags

#bnha - 164 posts

#all for one - 133 posts

#boku no hero academia - 57 posts

#midoriya izuku - 57 posts

#dad for one - 56 posts

#mha - 38 posts

#my hero academia - 32 posts

#yoichi shigaraki - 23 posts

#izuku midoriya - 22 posts

#bnha spoilers - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i actually didn’t look at the original while i was drawing i just remembered it from my head and was shocked to se how much i had changed

My Top Posts in 2022:

So is the little villain au DFO? If so, it's hilarious to imagine AFO's reaction when he tracks down this new upstart villain who's been making a nightmare for the HPSC (good) but hasn't paid proper homage to him (bad), only to find out its his adorable five year old, founding a new criminal empire already! They grow up so fast! Now he can have all sorts of new daddy son experiences!

Yeah this is basically what happened, at first All for One thought someone was using Izuku because his son was five, but nope, Izuku did it all on his own. You can imagine the whiplash All for One got from finding this out, for a man that has seen everything that was a first. Although how I imagined them meeting changed this was originally the prompt for it:

All for One had been struggling through a unnecessarily hard process of meeting the boss of a growing villainess organisation, that seems to know how everything goes before it happens. But no matter how much All for One tried, the members refuse to let him have any contact with their leader. It isn't until after he forces his way into one of the organisations strong holds and finally come face to face with their mysterious leader did he realise why they been so relucted.

"What's wrong?" A four year old with green curly hair, and freckles yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Having just woken up from his afternoon nap, something he couldn't escape from these days.

All for One stared down at his four old son, sleepily tumble off his bed, blanket still in hand. "Oh" All for One whispered, not quite sure if he should be proud or angry, so he chose surprised instead.

582 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

I know it's not official so grain of salt; but this is really sus that AFO knows that A) Bakugou grew up watching All might winning and wanting to be just like him (to win). B) The fact that he also knows that Bakugou was blinded by his ego, instead of what Tomura though of before was that Bakugou was oppressed in hero society. And C) AFO knows that Bakugou feared being in Izuku shadow no matter how hard he tried to be stronger then Izuku.

it's disturbing that AFO knows so much about Bakugou fears that have stemmed from his childhood, and considering that Bakugou was friends with the doctors grandson, I have a feeling AFO been keeping an eye on Bakugou for a lot longer then realises.

674 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

Please tell us more about tiny villain, time-traveller, Izuku. It’s a delightful au

Sure!

Some more funny facts over this:

-Despite being a five year old boy who looks like a cinnamon roll that could kill you, Nagant find Izuku miles better then her old employees and becomes the wine aunt group.

-She convinces Hawks to join them via hot gossip, chicken wings and the joint power of flipping off the commission together.

-All for One follows around Izuku when the boy is doing his jobs, so you have little pre-school Izuku running around trying to set up an organisation with All for One chilling in the background, occasionally helping Izuku reach tall places.

-This backfires one day when they run into All Might at the shops.

-Izuku stops Toya from exploding into flames by spraying water on him every time he burst into flames.

-Toya follows Izuku soon after, he say it's because of the fire resistance quirk he got, but Toya also set Izuku up to play with Shoto every now and again, so yeah.

-When AFO finds out Izuku ate the replica of his quirk to get it, he never lets the child live it down.

-Izuku also takes quirks from AFO, but never anyone else, he get's them ethically, like a good kid, AFO the exception.

-Izuku meets Tomura and humbles him real fast, but then Tomura also basically adopts Izuku as his little brother

-Inko is has an interesting backstory in this AU.

-Izuku doesn't know All for One is his dad, everyone else guess it five minutes into seeing them together.

-Doctor Ujiro and Izuku hate each others guts, but unfortunately the Doc is the only one who can treat the All for One quirk and Izuku injuries.

-Izuku lowkey ditches bakugou because there are more pressing matters and bakugou actually misses Izuku.

-Izuku really underestimates learning to control All for One the quirk.

730 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

Izuku travels back in time fix it AU...with a twist.

11 pm idea that hit me one night (might have been done before but hey, here's my turn at the idea) Izuku is transported back into his Five year old self, and has the chance to do everything all over again; and makes things right this time...

But there are several problems getting in the way of saving everyone, namely that he's a quirkless five year old, that has none of his friends, allies or strength he had in his teens. All of them don't know he exist, plus half of them are toddlers. There's also a lot of stuff that won't happen until much later, not to mention he isn't sure how a lot of stuff came to be. He has no idea how Dabi survived were toga grew up, and Tomura has already killed his family four years prior and is living somewhere with All for One.

He knows won't get OFA until he's fifteen, and he's not even sure he might this time around. Because changing history means that All Might won't get injured and never have a reason to pass it on. Getting it when he's four would be impossible since he's young, and because people might not believe him when he say's he from the future, and can he blame them?

So after thinking over all the options, Izuku decides that if he can't be a hero, then he's going to be a villain...or at least pretend to be one so that he can stop the villains before they become huge threats. Basically Izuku decides to fight fire with fire, which he cranks up to 100 because he know a way to get a strong power that could go toe to toe with All for One and the person to go to get it from.

So Izuku sneaks into All for One doctors office and get's a hold of the replica of All for One quirk, with added hijinks. Now Izuku my have the replica nicely stored away in a glass tube, but he doesn't know how to acquire it... so he just decides to eat it because it worked the first time.

It's not meant to work like that, but for Izuku it does, after falling sick for like three days. Because eating a quirk wasn't the best idea. But who cares Izuku now got All for One, foresight on future events and his New villain career to kick off at the ripe old age of five.

And boy does he go off with a bang, by breaking Nagant out of Tartarus (Izuku needed a body guard, and Nagant was innocent), convincing hawks to run away from the HC (it was Nagant idea really) and recruiting the number two hero eldest son (Well Toya more recruited himself) among other things.

This unsurprisingly, this get's All for One's attention, but Izuku sure that he won't get caught because who would expect "quirkless five year old Deku" to the the next be up and coming villain? Apparently All for One, because the guy awkwardly walks in to his preschool one day, picks him up and is both quite shocked and amused to find this villain, that's been causing the Hero commission so much strife, is just a four year old boy.

Izuku thinks this might be the end, but instead of snipping of this bud before it grow, All for One decides he'll let Izuku keep doing what he's doing, because the whole things amusing. Except Izuku still "only a baby, not quite a big bad villain yet" so All for One will be "probably supervising" Izuku growth into villainy.

Izuku doesn't know weather to yell in joy at getting a one up on All for One or scream in anguish that now he's got the worst villain in the world making him his personal pet project.

Izuku decides to burn that bridge when he get's there.

I have more of this AU if anyone wants to know about it, but just baby toddler villain Izuku getting followed around by his older villain father, during his first errands. All dress up in his preschool uniform carry several books on "how to commit crimes and get away with it" well telling AFO to buzz off.

1,658 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Fun chapter this week.

1,896 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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emotionallyrin · 19 days

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im not doing better

this post is kinda an update, it's a proof that i'm still thinking about this platform and in full a talk about what i've been doing and how i'm still alive. showing how i'm still needing help and unable to get it.

may, for 3 weeks straight i couldn't think and had to purely spend all my focus on college. my brain was a mess, i was tired and it was normal. college students were expected to have a heavy workload so it wasn't like my struggling was abnormal and needed help. it just didn't help with my depression.

mostly these 3 weeks kinda acted as some form of therapy, i got my mind of what shitty thoughts i had and onto something else. it was stressful but it removed the thoughts i had for a brief period; also i leaned more into my kpop addiction during this time and it really helped me feel happy.

i finished those 3 weeks, took a short break and cleaned my room. felt that things were good for once. the title lied, i'm doing somewhat better but it's like the world hates me. in the last few days alone its been trying to bring up everything to make me hate myself.

old pictures of a friend i lost, pictures i thought i deleted coming back to haunt me and remind me of the grief i felt over that time. they're not dead, they just betrayed me heavily. it hurt. seeing them again made me feel dragged down, like a void was pulling me back to my roots and i was unable to escape. just as i thought i reached happiness- it ended with me getting so blinded by rage i hurt my hand and laid empty for a while.

throughout the month, although i was distracted a lot, i did write a few draft vents. things i needed to get out but never could at the time because time constraints i had or the inability to draw strength to write what i wanted, now i have the time and lack of care. half way through my pit of hell i thought of my ex again, and it hurt for a while. seems cliche and annoying, brooding over my ex, and it was. it hurt though.

on the positive, since that day i haven't felt all too bad about my ex. not as bad as i used to at least, being fully detached for 2 straight months has helped. april felt like the last month i had to deal with torture around that issue. in general, that month was mostly me alone. it was peaceful and a grind, i felt dead mostly. telling myself to meet the deadline on repeat like i was about to collapse. my brain felt numb, my headaches were loud, my brain almost split.

this past week of rest, has been amazing. i had a few days feeling like i was truly happy for once, thinking why do i need to be guilty that i'm over depression. then things slowly tumbled over and over. the nightmares started again; an old friend who died 2 years ago slowly pops into my dreams. i hate it. it's why i go to see his grave, like i'm paying respects to show i still remember so memories don't hurt me.

we weren't all too close but i'm sentimental i guess- apparently funerals does something to me. it's like my phobia with blood; i wasn't scared before i saw it but then it's now one of the only things i'm scared of.

my birthday is on wednesday. i have a headache, it really hurts. i feel like i'm going to cry alone that day or do something i regret. a friend i have, a lot closer than the other one, had his brother die recently. so recent actually he's not showing up to classes anymore. i didn't know his brother all too well but i'm going to the funeral for him- i'm very empathetic so i don't know how it will go. the funeral is on my birthday. i think i'm going to breakdown and cry.

#depressing shit #rant

0 notes

mindrole · 3 months

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lately im properly keeping off my wrist, ive never had an injury (at least not from strain, ive hurt it def though, i got launched off a treadmill once when i was a kid) but i fear it, so i'm being vigilant. i'm fine tho. but its really boring cuz i usually doodle to fall asleep...

but i was thinking like, cell series character designs are really great, i think there's a wonderful uniqueness to them in the design philosophy, but

isn't everyone so difficult to draw....?!?!!! usually i feel like... after the first few times i don't need to pull up a reference anymore, but with the characters in this series no matter how many times, i still look up refs, btw did you know shinano has two tone hair? it's not a shadow.

shinano in fact is up there in difficulty... i think balancing his facial proportions is difficult... he should be so cutes and so adorables but he's not like, karen or izu. the hair is also kind of a challenge, namely his hair after he got a haircut.

the character i think is easiest to draw is ryuu. definitely. i've seen people say hatsutori is deceptively difficult to draw. i agree... even though i feel like by some miracle i understood how to draw him much better than others, he's REALLY hard!!!

the funny thing is, recently the last ryuu i draw, i said "i looked at a ref for once"? well its cause i usually ref my own art. usually it's fine. for ryuu who is easy for me to parse it's usually fine, but i realized recently the bangs were wrong the entire time, so i wanted to try being on model at least once (whether or not i apply it correctly next time is a big "maybe"). also i always draw the bunny ears too short, but that's usually something i am very conscious of (because it is a moe point that i hate that i neglect. MOE IS KING)

of course you'd think... well you draw miwa almost every day... you must be proficient in that? the answer is NO. in fact, he's the only character i am pulling up a picture from the actual game to draw almost every time. CONSISTENTLY. dita's look is easy enough to understand i guess, but the usual look, what's with those bangs?!?!?!!! WHY? i draw his bangs too long, but honestly that's not something i'm interested in rectifying. if anything, i've literally never seen anyone draw him 1:1 to the one picture we have, i feel like everyone struggles. genuinely have not seen any two artists draw him the same. so i am not worried about trying to be "on model". it's his fault for having such a weird wig in the first place. i mean, look, im gonna put it under a readmore and i genuinely want to know if you guys think it's fucked or not. i think it is. usually i have like, the one canon picture we have right, and then 3 of my drawings to ref how i did it, it's a struggle every time. but he's too funny. a character who haunts the interlude and doesn't have a single line in it, only ever talked in the one com report. so i keep drawing him because there's so many jokes to make at his expense. it's very cursed. i think having this blog made me a little obsessed.

for the dita look like i said in another post there's a lot of inconsistencies so i just take what i like. though for the most part i follow the design in the interlude. there's not much to comment about, aside from how i'm wondering where his ahoge is actually placed on his head. i just decide on the fly because i can't tell. it's not consistent between appearances. i won't talk about the scarf i'll start foaming at the mouth im not kidding

not even going into the characters i find near impossible like theodore. i'll cry. i'll be here all day. haruki is hard to draw too...

anyway, here's your serving of miwa's fucked up wig that haunt my nightmares every day because i hate drawing this hair so much:

i hope he DIES in com for this, is he stupid?

i hope everyone finds out he's 60+ years old and he has to hold a press conference apologizing for lying about being a recent ex-teenager

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valleynix · 1 year

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The Fool. As in, the tarot card?

(With that "you have to remember" all I had in my mind was the "remember who you are" from lion king lmao)

"They’re right in front of you-

But they’re not real. They’re gone."

Can you stop?? I need a safe word.

"You won’t let her destroy more and more realities or worlds or whatever.

It stops now."

Yes, that's the spirit! Let's go!🎉

"It seems as though Cassandra has the most control over her urges after she drinks blood from a fresh source"

But little miss Bela will be out there saying she's managing it better than her sisters😭

🥺 Cass draw Reader and Daniela sleeping???? Pls that's so cute.

I wonder if she drew some more moments of her family spending time together. That'd be like family pictures :')

Idk if they have cameras out there so

There certainly must be something wrong with me, because Cassandra is extremely attractive when she's threatening the Reader.

My lil rainbow heart was at its limits doing all the Cass paragraphs 🥴

Reading with Bela 🥺

That would be such a nice experience I bet, her voice is so soothing like she could be talking about how she cut open a manthing in the cellar and that would be like a bedtime story.

Need her to talk to me when I'm anxious <\3

Yhm yhm nvm once again giving me a slap on the face with the sweet moment followed by nothing but pure pain.

Lunatic kinda fine tho 👀 I like their evil mind, games and plans.

Mmm mmm evil people who ruin the lives of others (if only it wasn't Reader's life ). It's a love-hate relationship 😭 we gotta learn self love

DANIELA 💘💝💖💗💓💞💕💟❤

I knew sth bad would happen once again 😩

The way they argued with Bela anyway, about leaving the castle. They couldn't escape it.

Gosh I hope the Reader won't fuck up with the timeline too much this time 😭

And for now I don't trust the woman from the cellar.

And damn what killed those maids from the castle. A mystery that is yet to be solved.

i love that i saw this just as i was about to start writing again hehe

The Fool as in the tarot card >:) i'm glad someone picked up on that sdkjfhskj (there's a shit ton of symbolism that i so far haven't really seen anyone mention just yet, but hearing this made me happy :D)

*THE SAFE WORD COMMENT LMFAOOO

*can't give up hope in these trying times >:)

*listen Bela just likes to think she has that control- little miss Bela "perfect daughter" Dimitrescu is struggling BAHA

*Cass 100% has a little stash of drawings no one will ever be able to find, and it's just sketches of her family doing things she can remember or that mean something to her :')

*also tbf Cass is just attractive no matter what she does. she could threaten to cut out my tongue and i'd be like "wow say it again" LMAOOOO

*so real of you </3 Bela strikes me as someone with a voice that literally everyone loves and wants to hear (cue Daniela begging her to read just because she finds it soothing for her nightmares)

*HEHEHEHEHE, i'm trying to get better at just comfort and not as much pain following it </3

*Lunatic is honestly really smart sdkjfhs, there is a method to their madness (also have you seen the fanart done of them?? bro is cool as FUCK)

*(i promise you will learn to like them more <3)

*IN CONCLUSION: DANIELA <3333333 (i'm on my laptop so no emojis but imagine i spammed hearts)

*some things are just set in stone, as we'll see more of >:) that's the unfortunate reality of fate; no matter how hard we try, sometimes we just can't escape what was already destined to happen at some point or another

*about that...

*i definitely wouldn't! she does mean well, but... yknow... the village is a scary place, and sometimes it gives life to scarier humans forced into a certain role by the horrid shit going on

*i think chapter ten briefly implies who/what killed the maids?? if i'm not mistaken? it's often difficult to know every little thing when we only see things from one POV >:)

i hope you're still enjoying it so far, though <33

#asks #and now back to writing some bela fluff #perhaps... some spice......#ehehehe

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ptergwen · 3 years

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only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine

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wolferine · 3 years

Text

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 2065

Part 2

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl

Despite your super soldier enhancements, it takes a few days before you’re cleared from the medical bay. The bullets you had been shot with were identified as hollow point sniper rounds—basically the biggest, baddest of the bunch. If you had been a normal human, your insides would’ve been shredded to pieces and you would’ve died before you even hit the ground.

You’re retired to light duty while you recover, which is painfully boring and dull. You attend physical therapy to strengthen your body, but sometimes you push yourself too hard and stumble back to your and Natasha’s room with blood staining through your bandages. She always chastises you for hurting yourself, but secretly admires your dedication and will never pass up the opportunity to help take care of you.

One week after the condominium collapse, you join Steve, Clint, and Natasha for a private meeting with members of the Miami Police Department and the FBI. As Steve had suspected, the collapse wasn’t an accident. Someone had deliberately taken out the concrete supports in the parking garage with explosives.

“We couldn’t have just phoned that in?” you whine from the backseat. Clint is in the driver’s seat, Steve next to him. You and Natasha sit in the back. “I mean, they drag us all the way across the city, just to tell us something they could’ve sent over text—”

“Information like that, the less people to intercept the message, the better,” Steve mutters, staring out the window as the car zooms down the highway.

“I don’t know about that,” you dismiss, and Natasha side-eyes you. She knows you’re just cranky because Steve interrupted your morning cuddle with her. There isn’t much you can do intimately when you can barely twist your torso, so you have to make due with what you can.

“You know, Y/N, you are the one this guy’s after,” Clint points out. “So, if anything, you’re the only one that needed to show up.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a psychopath coming after you—”

THUD.

Everyone’s head turns to the roof of the car. You swear you see the imprint of a hand dented in the metal.

“What the—”

Natasha suddenly leaps out of her seat and into your lap. She wraps her arms around your neck, yanking your head down.

“Hey!” you shout in protest, but then you hear a bullet whiz behind your head and feel the foam of the headrest cushion spray the back of your neck. Still in your lap, Natasha kicks Steve’s shoulder, causing him to hit his head against the window before a bullet zings through his headrest. Following her example, you kick Clint’s seat and he jolts forward, the bullet missing his head by inches.

“Stop the car!” Steve yells, crunching the gear shift into park.

The tires burn rubber and the car slides back and forth before coming to a grinding halt. Cars behind you honk and swerve around you. A figure goes flying off the roof of the car and lands in the road, rolling to their feet. They wear a black vest, revealing their left arm to be completely made out of metal overlapping plates. Their hair is chin-length and a mask covers the lower half of their face.

Suddenly, an 18-wheeler semi-truck, unable to stop in time, slams into the back of the car. The trunk crumples like an accordion, and you instinctively tighten your grip around Natasha to shield her in case the semi-truck tears the car in half. But it doesn’t, instead pushing your car towards the masked figure, who doesn’t even bother to step out of your path.

They jump onto the hood and punch their metal arm through the windshield, grabbing the steering wheel and tearing it right out of the car. When the masked figure disappears onto the roof, Natasha takes out her gun and starts shooting, but her efforts are fruitless.

There’s no way for Clint to control the direction of the car anymore and it’s too dangerous to stay inside with the masked figure close by.

“Hang on!” Steve says, reaching across the front to grab Clint. In the same motion, he slams his shoulder into his door, knocking it off its hinges. Both men go flying out of the car.

“That looks like a good idea,” you mumble, anchoring your arm to your own car door, the other pressing Natasha against you as tightly as you can. “Hold on, babe.” You ram your shoulder into the door with all your strength, ignoring the pain that rips through your stomach.

The door tears away from the car and turns into a makeshift sled as you go skidding down the highway. Sparks fly from the grinding contact of metal on the concrete road. When you finally come to a stop, Natasha stays on top of you, drawing her weapon and scanning for the masked figure.

Meanwhile, the masked figure has hijacked the semi-truck, but instead of plowing you over, they turn to tip the entire vehicle over so it blocks every single lane of the highway.

“Where are they?” you pant, trying to lift your head to see the commotion but Natasha forces your head back into the car door. “Nat, stop—”

“No!” she says. “They’re after you, remember?”

You don’t like the idea of her risking herself for you, but it’s a sweet gesture.

“Where are they?” you ask, unable to see.

“I…I don’t…” Natasha sounds confused. Suddenly, she takes off without warning. You don’t question it and run after her. Steve and Clint are engaged in an intense hand-to-hand match with the masked figure. The masked figure knocks Steve to the ground and wraps their metal hand around Clint’s neck, lifting him off the ground.

You put on a burst of speed, overtaking Natasha and launching yourself at the masked figure’s metal arm. They drop Clint instantly and you wrap your arms around the metal one, but it’s like trying to contain a bucking bull. You jerk your elbow back into their face to stun them, but it has no effect. The masked figure flings out their metal arm and you lose your grip.

You crash into the concrete highway dividers and the impact almost knocks you out. You feel your stitches tear open and you start bleeding underneath your shirt. As you stagger to your feet, you see the masked figure over Natasha, pinning her down and pulling their metal arm back, ready to deal the killing blow—

“No!” you scream, charging towards them. You catch the masked figure’s metal arm again, locking out their elbow and holding it against your chest. Natasha rolls out of harm’s way and Clint jumps into the action, launching himself at the masked figure’s legs and sending all three of you to the ground.

Natasha swings her leg around and kicks the masked figure in the face. The mask falls off. You and Clint struggle to hold them down as Steve walks up, blood dripping from a cut in his forehead.

“Bucky?” Steve says suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man snarls.

“Help!” you choke, not sure how much longer you can hold on to his writhing metal arm. But Steve is frozen the same way Natasha had been when she saw you get shot. “You need to get in here, Steve!” you yell, and suddenly Bucky goes limp. You and Clint exchange confused glances.

“Wait, what?” Clint says.

“What happened?” you ask, hesitantly releasing the metal arm, which flops to the ground. “Why’d he just stop like that? Did I say his safe word or something?”

“What, ‘Steve?’” Clint laughs in spite of the tense situation.

“Apparently.”

Steve is in too much shock to bite back at your jibe.

“I’ll call for reinforcements.” Natasha takes charge. “We’ll bring him back to the Tower.” She comes over to you and touches your side gently, reminding you of the blood staining through your shirt.

“I’m fine,” you assure her, reaching out to run your thumb over the bruise forming under her eye. She closes her eyes and leans into your touch. “Let’s hope that Steve is, too.”

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

Bucky is detained in the holding cell at the Tower and Steve goes to speak with him privately. Afterwards, he regroups with the rest of you. Clint relaxes at the kitchen counter with a beer, while you and Natasha sit on the couch together. She holds an ice pack against your stomach and frets over the fresh swelling in your shoulder.

“So, I’ve got some good and bad news,” Steve says.

“You can start by telling us who that guy is,” Clint interrupts.

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “He’s…an old friend of mine. My best friend, actually—”

“You know, that’s the same thing people thought about me and Nat at first, but obviously we’re more than that—” you start.

“Bucky was also involved in the super soldier program,” Steve continues, ignoring your comment. “But he was under HYDRA’s control for decades. They were the ones who sent him after us. And…” Steve takes a breath, “We were wrong about who his target was. He wasn’t after you, Y/N. He was after me.”

“But he shot Y/N,” Natasha says.

“Twice,” you add.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Bucky was trying to shoot me. Y/N was just in the way.”

“In the way?” Steve’s logic—or lack of it—makes your head hurt. But as Natasha thinks about it—she’s always been the smarter one in the relationship—it makes complete sense. Her mind flashbacks to the scene of the condominium collapse, where all four of you had gathered on the street after you rescued the last victim. Her and Steve stood across from you and Clint. The bullets had come from behind you—if you hadn’t been standing where you were, Steve would have been hit instead.

“I don’t think you would remember this part, Y/N, but when Nat and I were trying to get you in the ambulance, we were shot at two more times,” Steve explained. “But the bullets hit the sideview mirror and the windshield. Those were places I was in, not you.”

“Okay, so why’s he trying to kill you if you’re his best friend?” you ask.

“It’s all HYDRA’s doing. He told me he’s part of a task force that was created to kill off the Avengers. Specifically, the original six, so there’s six of them in the task force. He’s the only one that got out, and he said the other five are being held in a facility in Siberia. He wants our help to free them,” Steve says.

“So, this Bucky guy wants to work with us now? After he took down a 12-story condominium and almost killed Y/N while trying to kill you?” Clint asks.

“Please, Clint,” Steve begs. “Bucky’s my best friend—”

“A best friend who tried to kill Y/N! And you!” Natasha argues. She lowers the ice pack from your stomach and you frown at the loss of contact. “You know I love you, Steve—”

“Not as much as me,” you mutter under your breath, guiding her hand to put the ice pack back against your side.

“—But I’m gonna need you to do a little better than that.”

“I need you all to trust me,” Steve pleads. “If we have intel telling us that there are five super soldiers in existence, who are programmed to take down the Avengers, isn’t it on us to do something about it?”

“How do we know we can trust Bucky?” Clint asks.

“Well, if he does go rogue, at least we know his safe word,” you answer with a chuckle.

“If you trust me, you’ll trust him,” Steve promises.

You glance at Natasha, who is looking at the floor, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stretch your arm over her shoulder, pulling her towards you and bumping your heads together.

“What should we do?” you whisper so quietly only she can hear.

Her free arm snakes around your waist, closing the gap between you and her, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. She rests her head against your shoulder. “Trust Steve,” she says.

“Okay.” That’s enough of an answer for you. You press a soft kiss to her temple and look back at Steve. “So, what did you have in mind?”

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

Click here for Part 4!

AN: I love taking inspiration from many places, and the inspiration for this part is the awesome fight on the highway from Captain America: Winter Soldier. Thank you to everyone for the continued support!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel

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amintyworld · 3 years

Text

Michael Underscore Beloved Headcannons:

Michael did not speak for the longest time which made both Tubbo and Ranboo worried. He’d make a few pig noises here and there but that was it.

Happy squeals when he was very cheerful, grunts when he was angry, small whines when he was sad.

It was only when he had a big breakdown one day they brought the kid over to Uncle Techno, who began speaking in piglin to him to help him calm down, that they realized he didn’t know English. Technoblade gives him lessons every Tuesday from then on.

The first word he says is ‘Dad’ to both Tubbo and Ranboo at the same time when they were putting him to bed and he didn’t want them to leave yet, still a little scared of the dark. Both of them had that moment where they were both convinced they were the ones who got called ‘Dad’.

Cue little zombie piglin rushing in after a nightmare a few hours later, tears in his eyes as he looks at both of them, and they rush over to comfort him, the piglin hugging them both tearfully. “Dad!”

He has a stuffed animal chicken that he cannot get to sleep without, he calls it ‘mine’ so Tubbo and Ranboo just call the stuffie ‘Michael’s Chicken’.

Michael loves loves LOVES carrots, so much so that he’d find ways to climb on counters and reach high places to grab carrots to munch on, places often even he doesn’t even know how he got up there in the first place.

Tommy, first time babysitting, had no idea what he was in for, and nearly lost him for almost 40 minutes when he was just chilling on top of the fridge.

Speaking of Tommy, he’s Michael’s favorite babysitter by far. Often he’ll ask for more stories of his adventures, and of course Tommy may have twisted them a bit on how cool he really was in a few situations, but Michael loved hearing them. He even drew him and Tommy fighting against a slimy green monster labeled ‘Drem’. Tommy nearly cried when Michael showed him and keeps the drawing in his echest.

When Michael is misbehaving, often Ranboo will just pick him up with his tail and hover him off the ground in a timeout as he wriggles and squirms, crossing his arms angrily. This is the only way that piglin will ever sit still - Tubbo tried telling him to sit in a chair but found him with his hand in the cookie jar five minutes later.

Sometimes Tubbo will go out gathering honey for breakfast (Tubbo loves honey on toast) and bring Michael with him, who’ll sit there, looking up in absolute awe, pointing excitedly. “Bee!”

During something very urgent, Tubbo drops Michael off with Phil as he assures worried Ranboo and Tubbo over and over again that he’s in good hands, since the piglin is not used to being with anyone alone except for Tommy.

Phil spends the day with him playing out in the snow, and while cooking lunch for both of them Phil lets Michael wear his hat, and the piglin just lets out the happiest squeal - “Fil!”

When a snowstorm approaches later as night falls they make a campfire and Phil shows him how to make s’mores. The small piglin ends up passing out on the couch wearing Phil’s hat, and Phil just pulls the blanket up on him. “Night, little mate.”

When Michael gets a cold for the first time Tubbo and Ranboo go into full on PANIC MODE and then when they call up Phil he has to reassure them, no he’s not dying, he’s just sick.

As Techno’s English lessons improve he learns to read and of course Technoblade reads him all the Greek Mythology stories he has, and ends up calling Tommy “Fee-Fee” for Thesesus thanks to some encouragement from the Blade himself.

Bath Time used to always be a struggle until Ranboo found ‘Mr Duck’, an old rubber duckie from Phil’s older things - stuff that he kept from when Wilbur was a baby - that he washed and cleaned which entertained the piglin to no end.

Michael loves shiny things just about as much as he loves carrots, and that’s saying something. He became quite the little thief at taking anything shiny - gold ingots, iron ingots, diamonds, Ranboo’s crown - and making a little stash in his room. They eventually broke him of the habit, though his love of gold never really went away.

Tommy once, trying to be the cool uncle, went on a thieving trip for shiny things with Michael, and though many of the things they stole he had to return, he let him keep a gold nugget, which Michael treasured ever since, Tubbo even making the nugget into a necklace he could wear.

Ranboo, being the taller of the two, loves putting Michael up on his shoulders to go on walks, even introducing him to a few endermen after telling him the zombie piglin wasn’t a threat.

Michael was so scared at first, clinging behind Ranboo to his legs, holding out his small wooden play sword in fear. Ranboo knelt down next to him and gently pull away his sword to lay in the snow. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t be scared...” One of the enderman just comes up to Michael, looking to him in wonder before gently patting his head, letting out a glitched chirp before disappearing. “Where?!” Michael yelled, reaching to grab his sword again before the enderman appears again, making Michael scared and scrambling back into Ranboo’s arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay, look...” Ranboo reassured him as Michael looks over to see the creature offering up a dirt block, tilting its head in curiosity. Michael slowly approached, taking the block as the enderman picked up another and placed it beside the child, letting out another glitched chirp to encourage him. Looking over to his father for a moment, Michael moved to place the dirt next to the enderman’s, looking up to the creature, who leaned down to pat his head again as Michael hugged it tightly. Ranboo had never been more proud of him.

When a few people on the SMP started staring at the dark hole where his right eye should be, (not trying to be mean of course, they’re just a bit shocked when they finally meet him) Michael began to try to hide his face behind his parents more to avoid being seen. They told him that they knew a secret that he couldn’t tell anyone: people stared at him because he was special, so amazingly special that sometimes people were jealous of him and his amazing chicken herding and bravery. He brightened up after that, promising and crossing his heart never to tell, since it could make the others embarrassed. Michael grew more and more confident since then, and his parents could not be more prouder.

They were right. He was special. He was their special boy, and he always would be. <3

———————————

What do you guys think? I’d love to make more of these, I have some ideas/Headcannons of older Michael if you guys are interested!! Hope you enjoyed, I love Michael so far and his place in cannon as well as lore, little tiny zombie piglin boy my beloved-! -Minty

#dsmpblr #dream smp #dream smp headcannon #michael the zombie piglin #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #dadboo #tubdad #c!techno #c!phil #c!philza #c!tommy #uncle technoblade #uncle tommy #young michael the zombie piglin #michael underscore beloved #dream smp fluff #minty’s headcannons

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sweetberrysmooch · 3 years

Text

HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 2]

(Zzzzzzz…..)

(Alright, second part done :V Not much to say here for now, but I hope you’re excited for the upcoming part to come out next ^^ And my ask box is always open, so feel free to drop in and chat any time! I’ll be seeing you :D)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and for a part two, outside home life? You’ll see what I mean lol

Characters: Quackity, George, Badboyhalo.

Warnings: Nightmares in Quackity’s part, but besides that we’re clean <3

Song Recommendation: Metamodernity- Vansire

Up Next- Sapnap, Philza, Fundy, Schlatt.

Enjoy your day guys! I do hope it be rockin :]

Quackity:

Quackity is one floppy motherfucker. You fall asleep with him spooning you, head nestled between your shoulder blades, hands holding yours in front of your middle, legs entangled, the whole shi-bang, but wake up with him starfishing half on the mattress at a weird angle that makes his neck sore for the rest of the day.

Each day is a new position for you to add to your ammunition of teasing against him, but he takes it in stride. He totally doesn’t wake you up halfway through the night by flinging himself over your middle, ‘asleep’ and snoring like a freight train. When you give up halfway through trying to stop him breathing and just fall asleep lying on his chest, he turns to mush and gets distracted playing with your hair. You don’t know why he seems so exhausted the next morning, and he only giggles dreamily at you when you ask.

While he’ll be the big spoon for as long as you want him to, there’s a special soft place in his heart for being the little spoon. Hold him, please. Pull him to your chest and gently run your fingers through his hair, rub his back and kiss every inch of his face until he’s down for the count. The easiest way to make him feel better after a bad day or an argument is to let him know you want him and love him. Just holding him at night guarantees that he’ll bring you a present the next day (like the inner stardew valley house husband he sometimes longs to be lmao).

It’s a 50/50 chance of waking up with Quackity or after him, seeing as he prefers to get up early to enjoy the quiet mornings before the rest of the smp wakes up. He gets ready, makes the both of you coffee (or tea, something to help wake you up), and watches the sky change color while he waits for you to come sit with him in the kitchen. The two of you try your best to assure a moment together before you go about your separate ways, sitting together and talking about what you have planned or what you might have for dinner later. It’s his favorite part of the day, aside from coming back home to your awaiting arms.

Another citrus-y smelling fellow. More orange than lemon, he bathes in the morning after he wakes up. You typically wake up right after he gets finished washing up, walking into the bathroom to hear him quietly humming while drying off his hair and wings. He’ll give you a small guilty grin and a good smooch on your forehead as an apology.

Another poor fellow with nightmares;; They’re a lot less frequent than they used to be now that you’ve gotten together (having someone to talk to and work through each others issues does WONDERS apparently) but when they hit, they hit him hard. You wake up from him twisting and turning right before he wakes up in tears. He doesn’t like to be touched afterwards, drawn in on himself and facing away from you, hiding his crying. When you leave to get him a glass of water and come back, he’s more grounded, crawling into your arms and accepting the drink gratefully. With his forehead pressed to your throat, taking small sips from his cup, he’ll tell you what his dream was about. Sometimes it’s Technoblade, sometimes Dream, mostly Schlatt though. His ex lingers on his mind more than he likes to admit, a deep sense of abandonment showing through his nightmares. Quackity struggles with sleeping for a few days after, afraid of what he might see when he closes his eyes again.

(You’ve fallen back asleep by now, hand paused in its ministrations and resting snugly in his hair. Things are warm and quiet and soft, and he feels safe again.

The nightmare still hovers fuzzily in the back of his mind, but for now he can ignore it, focusing on your slow breathing as it lulls him back to sleep.

His last thought before finally letting himself rest is how much he loves you, giving you one last squeeze in his tight embrace before relaxing into a much more stable slumber. ‘Gracias por todo mi amor.’)

George:

Impeccable skill of just falling asleep wherever and whenever. Before the two of you got close and started sharing a bed together, he really left his sleep schedule up to fate. He’d find a comfy spot and crash there for a few hours till he was awoken and would just repeat that a few hours later. Now that he has you, he makes more of an effort to stay awake during the day so he can sleep through the night next to your side. It more or less works, but occasionally he’ll have slept during the day and he wakes up in the middle of the night. As “punishment”, he sentences himself to waiting it out instead of getting up to do something because he truly wants to keep going to bed with you.

Not big on contact, likes having his space when he’s sleeping. Cuddling is nice every once in a while, but he prefers being able to breathe a little bit when falling asleep. He does, however, actively make the choice to hold your hand while he slips into slumberville. His grip isn’t too strong, nor is it very light, but a gentle mix between the two to try and remind you how much he loves you. You’ll wake up before him and his hand will still be holding yours, pulled to his chin as he sleeps. His breath fans your knuckles slowly, face eased of any stress, absolutely content.

George bathes…… probably. I’m just kidding, he fluctuates between bathing at night or in the morning because he just goes through phases of forgetting to when the time comes. His little mushroom home doesn’t come with a bathroom, seeing as its wholly empty (please if anyone has housing information on George or like. Any character at all please inform me please i beg-), so he’s limited to getting clean at a friend’s or your house. Typically yours. He keeps all of his valuables at your place once you start letting him sleep over there, tucking his clothes into your closet or in your dresser when he thinks you aren’t looking, leaving a toothbrush and his soap in your bathroom, hanging his armor up on an empty armor stand you have tucked away, all due to his inability to straight out ask if he can live with you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to live with you, he practically does anyways, but there’s something in him that worries that you won’t like him if you’re forced to live with him permanently. He knows it can become… a bit much when you have to be around someone 24/7, but doesn’t realize that you pretty much already are around each other 24/7 lmao.

It takes a while but eventually he settles down and over dinner suggest that maybe you two should take it to the next level. His face is flushed pink and he keeps switching which leg he has crossed, but he takes your hand and quietly asks if he could start living with you. It’s a surprisingly sweet moment, even with your confusion (thinking you already DID live together), and of course you say yes.

He looks so relieved when you accept, and is kinda like, “I know this will be a difficult process but I’m very excited to become closer with you.” and then nothing changes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(It’s on the walk home when George finally processes that he now lives with you. It feels heavy on his heart, a mix of nervousness and excitement that makes him swallow hard and tighten his fingers around yours.

This isn’t the first time he’s spent the night at your place, nor is it the first time he’s crawled into bed with you and slept next to just because you let him, but it is his first night actually living with you. The moment feels brand new, as if it’s his first time visiting your house all over again.

He begins to wonder if maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s moved too fast and maybe your regretting letting him live with you already and- He takes a hurried look at your face. You look… unbothered. Happy, even.

There’s this half hidden smile on your face that soothes his anxieties, drawing out his own fragile smile. He can’t wait to live with you.)

Bad:

Mmmmm, big man warm. A natural heat machine, no need for lots of blankets or heavier pajamas, Bad will take care of all your cold problems. Every night after you finish your shared nightly routine, you curl up in his arms, immediately becoming over come with his toasty embrace. It like when you get clothes out of the drier and just hug them to your chest, the warm, clean, smell good experience that Bad also delivers.

He’s got a pretty ingrained nightly schedule that he sticks to, and he always invites you to join him after you finish up dinner. It starts by cleaning up the house a little, washing the dishes, setting aside clothes for the next day, taking a quick bath, brushing his teeth, reading a few chapters from a new book he’s picked up, and then settling down to go to bed. He won’t push you to do it with him, but he does try to incorporate you into his routine when he can. Usually it’s just by doing something small, like reading together or massaging your shoulders, but sometimes he’ll ask you to join him when he bathes.

Bad bathes pretty often, always at night, and using a nice smelling soap that he makes himself. Like what was said above, he’ll sometimes ask you to join him when bathing. It’s not ever for any naughty means, but because he sees bathing as a very intimate and vulnerable activity for you to share. He won’t push it, understanding that it can be overwhelming to be so open, but if you do choose to join him, he’s so gentle with you. His hands are worked and calloused, but they’re soft when they run soap through your hair, his nails lightly scratching your scalp and running down the back of your neck. He practically purrs when you return the favor, giggling as your hands brush sensitive spots around his sides. Afterwards he becomes so cuddly and attached to your side, you fall asleep with him curled up on YOUR chest, trapped under him.

That being said, most nights he takes to being the big spoon. It’s more for convenience sake, seeing as he’s a good few feet taller than you are, but he also can appreciate being held and loved on after harsher days. He’s a lot like a weighted blanket, a nice heavy weight that keeps you warm and makes you feel loved <3 love this guy.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), you sometimes have.... Visitors. Bad is a hub for the homeless, bored, and nutty members of the smp. They flock to him like birds to the elderly, which means you have “children” to take care of for a day or two at a time :/. Dream and George aren’t regulars, per say, but Bad has a room set aside for either of them when they come over. To their credit, they do try to be polite when they come over, and will help in cooking dinner or cleaning up. Skeppy, however, is unlike Dream or George, in that he’s more of a third partner in your and Bad’s relationship.

Skeppy up and appears at random, no announcement, and makes himself comfortable any place where Bad is. Be it at your home or his, Skeppy eats your food, lounges on your furniture, hell, he even sleeps with you and Bad at night. You two share Bad’s chest whenever Skeppy is over. It’s so jarring at first, having to deal with having another boyfriend (because Skeppy will consider you to be apart of the thrupple after introductions), but he usually only stays for like 3 days before leaving to do whatever else he has planned. You don’t know if you should be worried or upset or what, but after a while it becomes kinda nice to have him around.

All in all Bad is great to sleep with <3

(Bad blows the lantern out on his bedside counter, shuffling under the cover beside you once the room was fully dark. You slung an arm over his chest instinctively, cuddling up into his side when his arm pulled up around your back and held you even closer.

You shivered pleasantly when he gently pressed a kiss into your hair, becoming sleepier and sleepier with each rise and fall of his wide chest. He sighs quietly and squeezes you, murmuring softly to you as you both fell asleep. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”)

Have a good evening! Do something nice for yourself tonight. You deserve it.

#mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #c: george #c: quackity #c: badboyhalo #georgenotfound x reader #quackity x reader #badboyhalo x reader #hc: and there was only one bed (affectionate)#woof #sorry this took so long to get out guys ^^;#lets hope pt.3 won't take as long!

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magicrowiswritingstuff · 3 years

Text

“Embrace” - Din Djarin x female!reader

Tigaanur Series: Part 1 | Part 2 (you’re here!) | Part 3 | MASTERLIST

Summary: The first time you slept next to the Mandalorian definitely wasn’t that comfortable. The second time would have been a lot better … if you could have fallen asleep in his embrace.

Warning: the fluff continues, a bit of violence/near death experience? (honestly ... is that news in that series?), more touching and bed sharing, suggestive themes, Hmmm slow-burn romance! My favorite ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Category: fluff

Words: about 8.000

Notes: The sequel to “Touch” is here! You don’t have to read the first part necessarily but I would suggest it because some things are references you might understand better if you read both. I also decided to name this series “Tigaanur“ which is Mando’a for ... touch, lol. I hope y’all like the second part just as much! I had a lot of fun writing this, hehe. Note 2: Again, set during season 1 but the events are drawn out over a longer period of time (but they aren’t really mentioned) Note 3: If you like my writing ... I’m taking Requests! Or if you just want to be notified when I upload something: I’ve started a taglist, too!

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“Embrace” – Din Djarin x fem!reader

With a huff you turned in your makeshift bed and stared at the ceiling of the Razor Crest, your hands clasped and neatly placed on your stomach. Keeping track of the time was difficult when you were in hyperspace for more than a day, at least for you, but when spending these days unable to fall asleep, the minutes seemed to last an eternity longer. Insomnia plagued you in your hours of otherwise peaceful slumber ever since a few weeks. All those events, all those concerns to keep the Child safe and the realization that there was a bounty on your head now, kept you awake, alert even when you knew it was safe to close your eyes. Your days were a constant pattern you couldn't escape from. Fighting, fleeing, repeat. You were aware of what you had signed up for when you joined Mando and the little one on the Razor Crest and you didn't regret a thing. But what you hadn't been aware of at the beginning was just how much your mind would struggle to process everything. You adapted to having to be observant and careful all the time, you just couldn't switch it off anymore. Your body shook with energy, prepared to act if necessary at any time even when you were more than exhausted. In the last couple of weeks you only seemed to find any sleep when your body was too exhausted to function anymore, leaving you passed out in the copilot seat more often than not. When Mando would notice you almost falling sleep beside him, he always urged you to go down in your bed. You knew he only wanted you to sleep comfortably, the copilot seat wasn't the best alternative for your body and especially for your back. You didn't dare to tell him that the moment you would settle down in your bed, you would be wide awake for the rest of the flight. Sometimes sleep was within reach, so close but your mind would startle you awake before you could get a hold of it. Leaving you panicked in your bed with your heart beating relentlessly against your ribs, keeping you awake for the rest of the night. Other times your body was simply too restless for you to even feel tired, let alone fall asleep. The constant stress your body and mind were under, slowly but surely strained your nerves.

You groaned, frustrated at yourself, and pressed the palms of your hands against your eyes. You couldn't deal with this anymore. You kicked back your blanket and stood up from your makeshift bed. You stretched your arms over your head until your shoulders made a satisfied plopping sound, then you grabbed your blanket, draped it over your shoulders and head like a hood before you made your way to the ladder leading up. You tiptoed silently past the Mandalorian's cot in which the kid was sleeping soundly, not wanting to wake the little on up, and then climbed up to the cockpit.

Mando shifted in his seat the moment you set a foot onto solid ground again, tilting his head in confusion as he looked at you. You walked up to him with your head lowered and sat down into the copilot seat to his right. With your feet plopped onto the seat, you wrapped the blanket around you and leaned your head back, glancing at the streaks of blue and silver above your through the window. "Nightmare?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper his modulator struggled to pick up. His concern for you made your heart flutter and warmth spred in your stomach. "No" you shook your head and wrapped the blanket tighter around your body. "Just can't fall asleep right now." It wasn’t a lie, just not the complete truth either. You let out a sigh, your eyes still fixated onto the fascinating beauty that was hyperspace even though you have seen it a million times already. But the nebula of blue and silver, of the stars swirling around you, never ceased to amaze you. The silence was light but filled with unspoken words and questions. You didn't dare to ask any of them out loud. You didn't want to disturb the comfortable silence and you weren't sure if you wanted to hear his answers anyway. You had asked him the question that was burning on the tip of your tongue before. His answer didn't really clarify much for you, you were still unsure at times. Now you only knew that he didn't mind the touches, didn't mind you around him. You were curious but also afraid to ask again. You liked how the bond you two shared was right now, you didn't want it to change to something awkward.

Your eyes fluttered close unwillingly, the exhausting taking a hold of your stiff body. You still couldn't relax but your body needed to shut down, needed to recharge. You heard the Mandalorian shuffle with something but before you could open your eyes to look, he had already grabbed your hand from underneath the blanket and intertwined his un-gloved fingers with yours. The warmth of his touch immediately washed over your whole body. Your lips formed into a soft smile as you squeezed his hand in thanks, slowly melting into his touch and the seat, gradually you felt your body relax. Mando began to draw small circles on the back of your hand, soothing your racing thoughts to a halt. No words were spoken, but you didn't feel like they were necessary right now. You were just grateful for his touch as your mind slipped into a peaceful slumber. The last clear thought you could form stuck with you even when you woke up again a few hours later. You never seemed to be able to relax in your bed just as good as if you were in the cockpit with Mando by your side.

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"Why does this always happen?" you huffed under your breath as you ran beside the Mandalorian, trying to get back to the Razor Crest before one of the men hunting you could land a shot.

You had just wanted to get some more supplies again, with three people on the ship rations didn't last long, especially with the always hungry kid that was hiding in the bag slung over your shoulder right now. You had wanted to go alone but after what happened the last time, when you had gotten badly hurt, Mando didn't allow that. Especially now that there was also a bounty on your head to track him and the kid down. You were in far more danger than he anticipated, than he wanted. But you also were in a desperate need to leave the ship even if it was only for an hour. You couldn’t stand being trapped there any longer, so you argued with him, refused to stay behind. After a while, and very reluctantly, Mando agreed to you going with him which meant that the kid had to join, too, because you didn't want to leave him alone on the ship. You had hoped for it to run smoothly, to just for once be able to enjoy a trip to a market and not be confronted with the harsh reality again. But you should have known better, you should have known that some bounty hunters would spot you three, that it was just inevitable.

So, that was why you were running through the narrow streets of the city you were in right now. Fighting them all off immediately hadn't been an option this time with all the civilians around you blocking your path and sight, so you three had to resort to shooting your way free and immediately fleeing after that. The plan had been to find a spot where you would have some advantage to attack but the city seemed to only consist of small, narrow streets in which you couldn't do anything except try to run, try to not get shot in the back.

Mando was running beside you but after a while you had trouble keeping pace with him. Your legs burned, the exhaustion in every fiber of your body from weeks of almost no sleep slowed you down more and more. Gasping for air you tried to not fall too far behind. The Mandalorian took a sharp turn to the left, vanishing into another small side street. You stumbled, struggling to slow down enough to take the turn without needing to stop completely. You could only vaguely hear the shouting of the bounty hunters behind you over the blood rushing through your ears and your heart hammering against your ribs. But what you could hear, or rather feel, was the blaster shoots zooming past you, barely missing. They were coming closer, fast. The kid cooed in your bag, confused by what was going on when you grabbed the bag and pressed it with him in it protectively against your chest. At least he wouldn't get hit there. You managed to round the corner and fixated your eyes back on Mando's form. With a groan you sped up, trying to catch up to him. But then you felt the laser of a blaster, its heat sizzled past your face, missing your skin only barely. Your heart leaped into your throat and you jumped to the side, your back collided with the wall of a building as you came to a sudden halt. When you collected your thoughts enough to turn your head, you saw the bounty hunters had already followed you into the small street and you knew there was no use in escaping anymore. If you ran, they would just shoot you in the back. You looked down at the Child who had stuck out his head from the bag, staring at you with his big, round eyes, and you knew what you had to do. You had no other option. You had to fight. You grabbed your blaster from the holster on your hip -Mando made you take one with you and had taught you the basics, now that you were on the radar of bounty hunters too- and slung the bag around so the Child would be hidden behind your back, safe from any blaster shots coming your way. You had no time to aim so you just shot into the general direction of the bounty hunters, hoping for the best, as you pushed yourself from the wall, avoiding a few shots only barely. Miraculously you managed to hit a few of them, or maybe it was Mando who hit them. He had to be somewhere behind you, he probably noticed your absence and had turned around to help, but your mind was too clouded to notice his footsteps hurrying closer or his blaster shots coming from behind you, more unfocused and aimless than usually. You ducked your head down to avoid a few more otherwise fatal shots and directed your blaster to the bounty hunter closest to you, only for it to jam. You pulled the trigger three times before you realized that nothing was happening. Your eyes widen in horror and you did the only thing you could think of right now: Protect the Child at all cost. You let your blaster fall to the ground as you spun around, so your back was facing the bounty hunters. You grabbed the bag during your turnaround and pressed it against your chest again, putting one hand on the little one’s head in an attempt to soothe him while your body shook in fear. You prepared yourself for the hit, prepared yourself for the heat sinking into your skin, for the pain, when you suddenly felt someone grab you and spin you around with them. You were too disoriented to react, to fight, you could only hear the lasers leaving the bounty hunter’s blaster, but none of them hit you. Instead, they hit something metallic, making them bounce off. You lifted your head slightly and your breath got stuck in your throat as you realized what was happening. Mando had wrapped his arms around you and spun you so his body was shielding you and the kid from the lasers, his back facing the bounty hunters, instead of yours. You couldn't do anything, except for staring at his visor in pure shock while he silently stared back, not even tilting his helmet in question. Him moving his hands behind your back stayed mostly unnoticed by you. Only when the whistling birds already struck down the bounty hunters that were left did you realized what he had done.

The echo of the blasters suddenly stopped, leaving the small side street in complete silence with the only exception being your still widely beating heart hammering against your ribs. The first one to move was neither Mando nor you but the Child, who was tugged in between the two of you. Wiggling and stretching his arms out he cooed at the Mandalorian whose helmet lowered to look at him. Slowly he loosened his grip on you, though his arms still stayed wrapped around you. If you didn't know it any better you would have said he was afraid you would disappear if he let go. But you didn't mind his hold on you, your legs were shaking uncontrollably and you would probably have slumped down on the ground without him. "Are you hurt?" he asked and glanced back at you, his voice frantic. You shook your head and let out a breathy sigh. "No-o" you said and gasped for air, your heart pumping hard against your chest in relief, before you directed your gaze to the little one. "We're okay. B-but I need a moment." You let your forehead fall against Mando’s armored chest and just focused on your breathing. The Mandalorian didn't move or interject, instead he tightened his arms around you again, giving you not only stability but comfort, too. You closed your eyes and tried to stop the shaking of your body. The adrenaline had vanished and only left the fear behind that was still closing its claws around you. You gulped, realizing that you almost ... that you could have died. A cold shiver ran down your spine as your breath hitched. This could have been the end of your journey. You could have... "We need to go" Mando spoke up, his voice caring an apologetic tone. You nodded against his chest, understanding that you had to leave the planet before more bounty hunters could arrive. You bit your lip and straightened up, taking a step back the Mandalorian let his arms slip from you, bringing them back to his sides. "Let's go" you agreed, trying to cover the waver of your voice with a small smile.

You held the Child pressed against your chest the whole remaining way back to the Razor Crest. His soft squeaks kept your mind at ease and focusing on his big, curious eyes made you forget about what almost happened. At least for the time being. Luckily, you didn't walk into any more bounty hunters. Though you could only take a deep breath of relief when the hangar closed tightly behind you. You only half-heartedly noticed Mando gently pushing you down onto the edge of his cot by the shoulders. You stared at the ground before you, still hugging the little one against your chest, and didn't even register the Razor Crest taking off. The short startle of the jump into hyperspace was also left unnoticed. Only when the Child was softly taken out of your arms did you look up at the Mandalorian, who had come back down. You didn't protest as he put the little one into his hammock where he promptly fell asleep.

"You should get some rest" the Mandalorian suggested, one of his hands resting on your shoulder, the leather of his glove brushing against the skin of your neck. The sensation left small tingles behind which would have made you sigh if you weren’t so tense. And even though you would have loved to, you knew sleep wasn't an option for you right now. "I can't-" you choked out and lowered your eyes to stare at your still shaking hands. You clenched them to fists and bit your lip. And even though the Mandalorian didn't speak up, did you know what he was asking when his hand wandered from your shoulder to your neck and cheek. You leaned into his touch, closed your eyes and wished to just fall asleep in his comforting presence, to just be able to forget this day. "I haven't been able to sleep properly ever since I joined you" you confessed, your voice faint. "But it has gotten worse over the last few weeks." "What can I do to help you?" the Mandalorian asked sincerely concerned. You couldn't help the soft chuckle escaping from your mouth. "Can you stay?" you hummed even though you knew he couldn't. This wasn't necessarily the worst sleeping position you were in since the last couple of weeks, but also not one of the best. However, if you moved to your bed or to the cockpit now, you would be wide awake once more. But Mando probably didn’t want to and couldn’t stay in that position anyway. You sighed at the warmth of his touch, relishing the moment for a few seconds more before you would have to stand up. But then Mando pulled away, making you open your eyes in an instant. You were about to stand up from his cot when he suddenly kneeled down before you. Freezing in place you stared at his visor that stayed trained on your face. Every word you could have said got stuck in your throat when he grabbed your legs and slipped your shoes off. You couldn't even ask him what he was doing, though your face probably gave that thought away. He placed your shoes neatly beside the entrance to his cot before slipping his off, too, which only left you even more confused. You blinked at him in lack of understanding, searching for words.

"What are you doing?" you managed to ask when he had stood up and took a step closer. He was now directly in front of you, his body so close you could feel the warmth that radiated from him and it springing over to you. He was so close that you had to put your head back to keep your eyes focused on his helmet. "Staying with you" he only answered. Before you could ask further questions, he suddenly picked you up with one arm underneath your legs and the other bracing your back. Your eyes grew wide as you just clung onto him, unable to protest. Somehow Mando managed to get you two settled into his cot with him lying on his back, almost taking in all the space, and you on your side, trying to squeeze into the space that was left. Nevertheless, you had to press against him with your head lying on his armored shoulder. You didn't dare to breathe, didn't dare to move at all and just watched Mando for a while. He had his hands clasped on top of his stomach, the visor of his helmet pointed to the ceiling, harshly reflecting the still switched-on lights of the ship. He didn’t move and you began to wonder if he had already fallen asleep. But then you thought about how he was even supposed to fall asleep that way in his bed, completely dressed in his armor. Wasn’t he uncomfortable? You furrowed your brows, your eyes still trained on his helmet. Or did he always sleep that way? Fully dressed in his armor? Unmovingly on his back like a rock?

"Sleep."

You couldn't help the squeak spilling over your lips as you flinched in embarrassment, making the Mandalorian chuckle lowly. He had noticed you staring, obviously. You cursed at yourself and ducked your head in, trying to sink into yourself and appear smaller while your cheeks heated up. Embarrassed you stared at your hands, refusing to meet the Mandalorian’s gaze again. His shoulders shook lightly from his silent laughter. Then he grabbed the blanket, draping it over the two of you before he pushed a button on the side of the wall which switched off the lights and closed the door to the cot. You were grateful for the darkness as your face definitely gave away your flustered state. For a few moments you focused on Mando's regular breathing through the modulator, feeling his body move next to you to the almost completely silent rhythm. You mimicked his relaxed breathing, trying to clear your thoughts and focusing on only that and not the close proximity you had to each other. And before you knew it your body relaxed and you fell asleep, tightly pressed against him.

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You were relieved and grateful to Mando for finally having found some sleep through his help, but you would be lying if you said it was a comfortable slumber.

You had awoken alone in Mando's cot. Well, not completely alone. The kid was still sleeping in his hammock above you and the pain in your back was now also a new companion. Spending one night cramped into one tiny space with a man completely dressed in cold, hard armor probably wasn't the best idea. Nevertheless, you had slept and for the first time in weeks you felt somewhat well rested, back pain brushed aside.

You groaned and set up, rubbing your eyes and wondered how you didn't notice Mando leaving. In the tight space that was his bed you surely would have felt him move, right? Well, apparently you had been far too out of it for that. You were somewhat impressed at yourself for having fallen so deeply asleep but your body probably had just passed out, far too exhausted to keep being alert even in your sleep. You yawned, searched for the button to open the cot and then crawled to its edge to put your shoes back on, noticing that Mando's were gone. You stood up and glanced at the Child but when you noticed that he was still soundly asleep, you silently walked to the ladder and climbed up. Once you were at the top you stopped and stared at the back of Mando's helmet, suddenly feeling very unsure of yourself. Sleeping next too him was the most intimate gesture he had shared with you. And even though that wasn’t really something big normally, you had shared a bed with friends before, this felt different. Somehow it felt intrusive and very exciting at the same time. You felt special but flustered none the less. Then you huffed and shook your head, clearing it from those thoughts. 'We only shared a bed' you told yourself. There was nothing special about that, right? Well, maybe not with any other person. But with Mando every small step felt like a miracle, like a risk to take even though being close to him was nothing new to you anymore. You held hands, you saw and felt his skin underneath the leather gloves, you even sat on his lap a few times while in hyperspace. But nothing ever felt so intimate than lying next to him in his small cot, even if you had a sore back now because of that. Alone the memory of it made your heart speed up again. Never had so simple gestures felt so exciting to you. And then the desire hit you that you wanted more, wanted to be closer to the man behind the beskar. And that thought suddenly scared you. You shook your head once more and forced yourself to sit down into one of the copilot seats. You stared out of the window, too afraid to meet the Mandalorian's gaze should he tilt his head to you, too afraid he would somehow know what you were thinking. You felt torn. Torn between wanting to embrace whatever this was and scared to know what he wanted, what he thought. Scared to know what exactly this was. It wasn’t a simple partnership anymore, not just a crew you happened to join. This was something that set your heart aflame whenever you were near him. But you didn’t want to ask. You didn’t want to know his answer. As long as he didn’t tell you what this was to him you could continue to pretend, to relish these moments that meant so much to you.

You folded your hands and placed them in your lap to stop yourself from fiddling with your thumbs. The silence was uncommonly heavy, pressing down on your shoulders and pinning you to the seat. "Thank you" you whispered after many minutes of complete silence and glanced at the Mandalorian through the corners of your eyes. He only hummed and nodded, not turning to meet your eyes.

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The rest of your day was filled with the giggles and squeals of the Child as you played with him to distract yourself form your thoughts. You couldn't stand being in the cockpit alone with Mando today, so you had passed the time and busied yourself with caring for the kid. That was until he had fallen asleep in your arms at the end of the day, or at least you guessed another day had passed. Keeping track of it in hyperspace was still rather hard for you. You had put the little one to bed and were now standing in front of him, in front of Mando’s cot, unsure what to do. Glancing at your own bed you felt your stomach tighten. You already knew you would only turn from side to side without finding any rest in there. The only option to find any sort of sleep would be next to Mando. You sighed and climbed back up to sit down into one of the copilot seats only to almost run into the Mandalorian as the door to the cockpit slid open suddenly before you. You froze, your face only inches away from his chest. You took a deep breath before you slowly lifted your head until you could look into his visor. When he didn’t move to the side or reacted at all, you furrowed your brows at him in question. "Aren't you tired?" he asked and gently took your hand in his. It was the first time that he had talked to you today. The rest of the day had always been filled with awkward silence, something you had always feared should you ask the questions that were circling in your head, something you had wanted to prevent by staying silent, but now it was too late. He tilted his head at you when you didn't react. For a few moments you were overwhelmed and struggled for words. "Ehm, well, yeah but-" you weren't able to finish your sentence, though you weren't even sure what you had wanted to say anyway, when Mando squeezed your hand and nodded to the ladder. Understanding what he wanted to signal to you, you let your hand slip from his and began to climb back down, Mando following close behind. You were back where you had stood before, not knowing what to do. When Mando slipped his shoes off you did the same, just so you had something to occupy your mind with. When he turned to look at you, you stayed put where you were, frozen in place with your heart hammering against your ribs, begging you to let it escape. Did he really want to sleep in his armor again just so you could find some sort of relaxation, some form of comfort through his presence? Not to forget how painful it was to wake up earlier today for you, then you couldn’t possible imagine how it had to be for him. You suppressed the wince that would have spilled over your lips other wise and shook your head. Now wasn't about your comfort during sleep, but Mando's. And sleeping in armor definitely couldn’t be comfortable or even good for him. He should be able to relax in his ship and not be reminded of his job, his chaotic life through the armor he wore during the day and now at night, too.

"Isn't it uncomfortable to sleep in your armor?" you asked sincerely concerned and not just to gain some more seconds to try and sort your mind. Mando only shrugged his shoulders, while you rubbed the back of your neck that still felt a little stiff from this morning. "You don't have to-" you wanted to explain to him that he didn't have to do this for you when he would be uncomfortable as a result, that you would just try to sleep in your bed again so he felt comfortable enough to take the armor off and sleep alone in his cot. But every word got stuck in your throat when he did something you never thought your eyes would ever witness. He took off his armor, piece by piece, right in front of you. Your eyes grew wide and your mouth fell slightly open. "What-" you only managed to croak out as your eyes wandered over his form, the last piece of armor he still wore being his helmet and the rest of his clothing being what he wore underneath, a simple shirt and pants. You couldn't help yourself, you couldn't keep yourself from staring at him. His shoulders were still broad and wide even without the armor but only now did you notice his slender waist. You gulped and stopped your eyes from moving lower, bringing them back up, only for your heart to leap into your throat as you stared at his chest and arms that were now only covered by a dark, long-sleeved shirt. You already knew Mando was physically strong but the shirt did nothing to hide the muscles flexing in his arms and shoulders even when he was only standing before you. Why did you feel like he was standing bare before you when he only took his armor off and was still standing before you fully clothed? You felt your face heat up and your breath getting shallow at that thought. Your body tensed as you forced your eyes to stay on Mando's visor. You had embarrassed yourself enough already.

He hadn’t said anything when he had taken off his armor nor when he stepped closer to you, directing you backwards to the cot. When the back of your knees hit the edge you stumbled, almost falling on your back but Mando grabbed your hand and kept you upright. "Careful" he chuckled. Your face grew even hotter as you bit your lip, suppressing the mindless blabber that would have escape you otherwise. Slowly he lowered your still tilted off-center body until you found yourself on the exact same spot as yesterday. It felt rather surreal and you kept wondering if you weren’t just dreaming right now. Maybe you were still asleep? But when your eyes glanced at his exposed neck, the skin sun-kissed and flexing over his muscles in such detail, you were sure you couldn’t make this up during your sleep, that this had to be real. "Mando, I-" you began but he shushed you. "Let's just get some sleep, okay?" You nodded and stood up, letting Mando settled into his bed first. He laid down like he had yesterday, flat on his back with his arms on his stomach. For a second you hesitated, staring down at him before you followed him into the tight space, plopping down on your side with your back to him and snuggling underneath the blanket he had already draped over himself. You felt far too flustered to face him right now, especially with the lights still on. Without a word he closed the door to the cot and switched the lights off. You gulped, somehow feeling Mando's side pressed against your back even more prominently than before. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, snuggling deeper into the blanket in an attempt to make yourself fall asleep faster. Only to suddenly realize that everything in the cot smelled like the Mandalorian, smelled like something metallic (his beskar) mixed with something earthy, something grounding, something soothing. Heat immediately rushed back into your cheeks and your body tensed. Oh Maker, how were you supposed to fall asleep now? With Mando's scent in your nose and his body tightly pressed against you, you definitely couldn't. You didn't really feel uncomfortable but to say this position did anything for your still slightly sore back and neck was also not correct. And that your heart racing uncontrollably fast didn't help you in any way either. You couldn't relax like this.

Your eyes darted around in the dark as you tried to jump over your shadow and control your rapid breathing. Then, before you could back out again, you turned around underneath the blanket so you would have faced the Mandalorian if the lights were on. He didn't react or at least as far as you were aware. He could surely be looking at you through his visor, that probably had night vision, without moving his head. You gulped before carefully placing your hand on his chest. You felt him tense underneath your touch instantly, signaling you that he wasn't asleep yet. You felt how your cheeks heated up even more when your fingers brushed his muscular chest instead of the cold, hard beskar armor you were used to by now. "Mando?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling nervously while you patiently waited for an answer even after many seconds of silence. You wanted to make sure he was comfortable enough to answer you before you tried anything else. "Yes?" he finally said and you felt his head moving beside you ever so slightly. "Are you comfortable?" you questioned further. Another few seconds of silence followed in which the only thing you could focus on was how close you were to the unarmed Mandalorian. You could feel every muscle on his chest underneath your touch, still a bit tense but slowly loosening up more and more. You could feel his soothing warmth even more, now that the beskar wasn't in the way. You bit your lip, suppressing a sigh. "It's alright" he only answered, leaving your question rather unsatisfied. You took a deep breath, trying to stop your body from shaking and forced yourself to speak up again. "I am not" you whispered and felt him tense up again underneath your touch. You felt his head move once more, probably now completely turned to face you. He didn't say anything, just stared at you through the darkness. You struggled for words for a while, unsure how to continue without making him uncomfortable, without sounding too demanding. Then you lightly shook your head as far as that was possible lying on your side next to him. "Could you-" you began but bit your lip. Collecting all the courage you had left you forced yourself to continue. "Could you turn on your side?"

You stared into the darkness, at the unmoving Mandalorian as your pulse quickened. Nobody moved and you began to fear that you had overstepped a boundary. Maker, he had taken off his armor in front of you for the very first time. This must be even more uncomfortable for him than you. You gritted your teeth, cursing at yourself. You should have stayed silent and just tried to sleep. About to apologize you opened your mouth only to suddenly feel movement beside you. Before you knew it the Mandalorian laid on his side, but not like you had expected it with his back facing you, but with his chest. Your heart leaped into your throat, leaving you breathless and unable to form the words you had wanted to say out loud. You froze, your whole body tensed up in disbelief. "Is that better?" he asked, his voice an almost inaudible whisper. "Yeah" you croaked out. The silence that followed was deafening, making the beat of your heart even more audible and you were sure Mando must have been able to hear it, too. Your brain shut off, leaving you alone in the dark, helpless. How were you supposed to sleep now?! With your eyes wide you stared in front of you, stared into the darkness where Mando's chest was, only inches away from your face. You almost yelped in panic when you noticed that your hand was still touching him, pressed against his unarmored chest. But you couldn't move away. Was your mind blank only seconds before was it now swarming and crowded with thousand of thoughts.

You flinched when you suddenly felt a featherlight touch on your waist. You needed a few seconds to process that it was Mando's un-gloved hand. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice so soft his modulator didn't even pick it up. You realized that this was Mando's real voice, not the distorted sound of his helmet but what he would sound like without it. A shower of tingles wandered down your body, leaving you breathless. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the words. "Ye-yeah." Mando let his arm sneak around your waist, wrapping it around you and slowly pulling you against his chest. You didn't even notice that you were the one to tangle your legs with his, it felt intuitive. Suddenly you felt really dizzy. Was this really happening right now? You grabbed Mando's shirt with your shaking fingers and buried your head in his chest in a stupid attempt to hide. Because the moment you had to take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down, you only grew even more dizzy when his scent filled your nose. You cursed silently in your mind. But even through all of this, did you notice how your body slowly relaxed under this touch and warmth. Involuntary, you let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes.

"Thank you, Mando" you managed to whisper after probably minutes of silence. The Mandalorian didn't immediately retort anything to that and instead tightened his grip on your waist and squeezed the hand of his free arm between the two of you to place it on to of your hands that were still pressed firmly against his chest. "Din." You lifted your head to look at where his eyes must be hidden behind the darkness and furrowed your brows in lack of understanding. "What?" you asked confused. "Please. Call me Din." Your eyes widen and your face grew even hotter if that was even possible at that point. He ... he just revealed his name to you? Your breath hitched. He just revealed his name to you. "Din" you tested his name on your tongue in a hushed tone. The Mandalorian went rigid as he sucked in a sharp breath and you feared you had misunderstood him but then he pressed you even closer to him, making your heart skip a beat. You gasped for air in shock when he nestled into your hair as you felt his chin on top of your head and not the cold helmet. His legs had sneaked around yours, pinning you against him but you didn't feel trapped. Quite the opposite, you actually enjoyed his tight embrace. "Din?" you asked, your voice wavering noticeably. The grip around your waist tightened for a split second as he tried to stifle his sigh, making you chuckle and melt against him. "Din" you said again with a cheeky smile on your lips. The Mandalorian growled against you, making you jump in surprise. "Are you trying to torture me, cyar'ika?" he asked, his voice husky and low. You paused, not quite understanding what he meant by that. "What-" you began, shifting in his hold so you would be looking at his face in confusion if it weren't so dark. For a few seconds you just stared and thought until your eyes widen in realization as your mind caught on. "When was the last time someone called you by your name?" you asked in a hush. "Can't remember" he answered you in a low growl as he pressed himself against you. Your cheeks burned again in an instant as you struggled for words once more. Din’s breath stuttered through the modulator, his chest heaving against yours. You wondered if his mind was as blank as yours was but then he suddenly let go of your waist and instead grabbed both of your hands before you could collect yourself enough to react to any of the things he had said, to the things he had revealed to you. For a few moments he just drew soothing circles on the backs of your hands, tracing your soft skin as if it was the first time he felt it. Then he directed them upwards and placed them on each side of his helmet. After that no one moved and you barely dared to breathe. You hadn't touched his helmet before, always far too afraid since it seemed to be the most important part of his creed. But the only thing on your mind wasn’t your surprise at that and instead you could only focus on how the coldness of the beskar underneath your hands and the warmth of Din's hand on top sent shivers down your spine.

"(Y/N)?" You hummed in response, still unable to speak up, your mind far too clouded. "You can take it off." Your body stiffened as you blinked in confusion. Did he really just say that? You must have imagined that, right? Right? "B-but your creed?" you objected, staring into the darkness. "It's okay as long as you can't see my face" he explained, squeezing your hands before leaving them alone on his helmet as he wrapped his arms back around your waist, lifting you a bit further up so you were face to face with him. Your hands were still cupping the sides of his helmet as you sucked in a sharp breath. Were you really about to do this? It felt wrong even though he had asked you to. It felt … intimate. "Please, cyar'ika. Let me be close to you." Din's pleading voice and the foreign nickname send shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched as you pushed all your worries to the side and slowly lifting the helmet up. Its hiss echoed in your ears as you held your breath, your heart beating so strong you felt it in your throat. You pushed it up over his hair that brushed your hands, leaving tingles behind. Then you placed the helmet to the side and gasped when you felt Din's breath on your face. The sensation left you dizzy as your heart began to drum relentlessly against your chest. Your hands felt useless as they floated in the air, not knowing where to put them. For many seconds you didn’t dare to move before you squeezed one of your hands back between the two of you, placing it on his chest before taking a deep breath.

"Can I?" you asked in a whisper, your other hand hovering over where his cheek must be hiding in the darkness. A soft "Yeah" escaped Din's mouth and you didn't waste another second and gently placed your hand on his face. The sensation and his warmth left you with a feeling you couldn’t quite place or understand. Slowly you began to outline his features, let your hand wander from his chin up to his ear, feeling his strong jar and the slight stubble that adorned it. The combined feeling of his surprisingly soft skin and rougher stubble left you breathless. You let your hand placed on his cheek for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts and failing miserably. You sucked in a sharp breath and carefully continued to let your fingers wander to his forehead, tracing his eyebrow you felt how his eyes fluttered close. Then your touch traveled back down, mapping out the shape of his nose. In the end your fingers hovered over his lips and you felt his breath against them as they trembled. Gently you placed them on his chin and felt your way up to his bottom lip. You traced the outline of his mouth in a trance and when he chuckled against you, you didn’t even flinch and joined in. Your fingers found their way further up, to the corner of his lips, feeling the stubble above his lips form into a mustache. You chuckled again. He took your breath away. "Beautiful" you whispered as you continued to caress the corner of his mouth. You felt it crinkle up in a smile as Din laughed, the rumble of it vibrating in your chest, the sound hypnotizing you. "Mesh'la" he responded in a hushed tone, as he drew your faces closer. You weren't sure what the word meant but you didn't really care right now. His scent so metallic yet earthy, so soft yet sensual and warm it left you breathless and with your thoughts spinning, craving more. Your heart hammered against your ribs, screaming and begging for a few more millimeters, only a small push forward. You were sure Din was able to feel the echo of your heart against his own chest. He shifted lightly against you, wrapping his legs around you more, and tightening his grip on your waist, drawing your body even closer even though not a single hair could fit in between you two anymore. Your sleepiness was completely forgotten by now as you stared into the darkness, not able to close your eyes even though you couldn't even see anything. But you didn't need your eyes to see him, to know how beautiful he was. He lowered his head, placing his forehead against yours. You were glad to note that you weren't the only one whose breath stuttered over your lips at that. You couldn't help but melt into him, soaking in his warmth and the feeling of comfort, the feeling of belonging right there with him. Feeling like this was all that life was, feeling safe and protected. At peace. You let your hand wander to his hair, burying your fingers into his locks. The slight tug made Din growl once more, the sound low and dangerous, teasing and daring you to continue. You smiled and brushed his hair back, taking part in the game he dared you to play with him, no matter the consequences. You wanted to see what he would do, you wanted more. All those months of faint touches, whispers of being close to one another, had left you even more touch-starved then before, even more desperate. You didn’t care for the unspoken boundaries anymore. You just wanted to let yourself fall into your desire, a desire Din seemed to share. Slowly one of his hands crept up the back of your neck to also bury his fingers in your hair. The sensation made you gasp and your hair stand on end. You were sure Din was grinning at that, proud and pleased. Out of instinct you freed one of your legs from his and draped it over his waist, seeking to be even closer to him, even though his whole body was already pressed against you and his lips so close that you could feel the ghost of his breath on yours. It made you shiver in anticipation. Pressing your forehead even more against his you took a deep breath, taking in his soothing scent. Only a few millimeters more and you would have the closeness you sought. Only a few millimeters closer to fulfill the whishes of your heart. Only a few millimeters closer and you would have known how his lips felt dancing against your own.

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Tigaanur Series: Part 1 | Part 2 (you’re here!) | Part 3 | MASTERLIST

No kisses, hehehehe. Want to have a third part with them kissing? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Then leave a comment and reblog! Feedback is always highly appreciated, it keeps me motivated and I’d just like to know what y’all think and if you liked it!

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