#i still think them waiting until they got aired out to address everything is insane though. we all knew that avoiding their problems would c

[scientologyblows]

after watching ryans apology, all i can say is i really wish ryan had a exit strategy. i wish he would’ve actually started streaming or something so he doesn’t feel like he has to leave the internet or anything and leave his online presence. i think if anyone could get better in this situation, its him, but he would need guidance outside of matt to do so.

[no-droids]

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi​

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

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

“I have to go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Your head hurts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, but now… like…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

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

A deadline.  A very quickly approaching one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Oh—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His.  Catching yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

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

You?  Said something that made him ask that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To know is to love.

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

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

[xsamsharons]

letters - nikolai lantsov.

pairing: nikolai lantsov x reader

genre/warning: it's pretty angsty, specially towards the end.

words: 1.4k

summary: a collection of the most important letters your prince and childhood best friend sent you during the years he was away from you.

a/n: i implied that nikolai is an aquarius in this... and i'm not sorry.

Arrived on December 25: One month since he left the palace.

I sat down to write to you as soon as I got to the infantry, as I promised, and I’d say I miss you but I don't want you to let the compliments get to your head. This will probably get to you in a few weeks, but I hope you’re doing well and I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon (but not too soon… i can use some time away from you).

N.

Arrived on January 20th: Two months since he left the palace.

Happy New Year!

It sucks that you aren’t here to help me steal liquor from the main room, or to sneak out into the gardens to tell horror stories about the fold, and I hope you haven’t replaced me with my brother yet. I hope you’re not having too much fun without me, and I still won’t say I miss you.

N.

Arrived on December 17th: Three years since he left the palace.

I did it, I completed my service! I know I haven't been writing to you as much as I used to during my first year here, but ever since being named Mayor I've been a lot busier and couldn’t find the time to sit down and use ink to express my thoughts. I think I also didn’t want to admit to myself how much I miss home, and putting it on paper only made it seem all the more real. I’m coming back in a month, we can spend all the time together that you want (and i know you want to spend a lot of time around me after not having seen my beautiful face for three years) and i think i’ll even still be there for your birthday! I won’t get you a gift, though, because my presence should already be enough.

See you soon, lapushka.

N.

Found on your nightstand on November 21st: The morning he left Ravka.

I’m struggling to put into words everything going through my mind as you are sleeping next to me. I can recall our kiss and I can recall your touch accompanied by your soft words against my lips. If I focus on the good, everything feels right, and if I focus only on last night, it almost feels like we have enough time left.

I’m deeply sorry you have to find out once I'm not already next to you, but I'm leaving Ravka in the morning and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you this to your face, which is why I'm writing it down as you sleep. It feels almost ironic how after a year together, we’re back to the letters, and it feels almost stupid how even though a year sounded like an eternity, our time together is already over once again.

I hope you can forgive me for a lot of things, but i specifically wish for you to forgive how much time i wasted not kissing you, or denying my feelings, or not appreciating our time together. I wish for you to forgive me waiting until our last night together to finally admit everything to you and do what I've been wanting to do my whole life, and I wish for you to forgive me for going away the morning after it happened.

I’ll come back to you, if you’ll still have me, and I'll do things right once I'm back by your side.

I hope you can forgive me,

N.

Arrived on December 19th: One year since he left Ravka.

I haven’t heard back from you in the year I've been gone, and it’s driving me insane. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left, and on the days where I feel like everything I'm doing is useless, I picture your face to remind myself what I'm fighting for. You’ve always seen through me, which is why I assume you know I'm a wreck without you and your letters to get me through the months I spend away from you, and I don’t know if you need more time, or if you simply don’t want to associate with me anymore. Either way, I remember your letters during my first year in the infantry. I keep them all inside a drawer in my room, and I've been re-reading them more and more often, pretending like they’re new ones that you’ve been sending me during recent times.

I’m not afraid to say I miss you anymore, and I do so like crazy.

N.

Arrived on January 7th: One year and one month since he left Ravka.

I assume you not responding to my last letter means you are done with me, and I completely understand. I saw a bird on the beach today, and I remembered you pointing that specific species out to me in one of the dozen of books you read.

Happy new year,

N.

Arrived on November 19th: Two years since he left Ravka.

I doubt you will ever want to write to me again, just like I doubt you even open the letters that I still send every month updating you on the most mundane things about my life. However, if one day you wake up and find that you miss writing to your very handsome prince, please make sure to address the letters to Sturmhond, the privateer, and not Nikolai, the prince.

I miss you everyday,

S.

Arrived February 16th: Two years since he left Ravka.

I hear your voice in every sea shanties i hear the crew sing, and I see your face in every person I see when we get a day on land. I drive myself crazy at night just wishing I could see you again, hear from you again, touch you again, even though my mind doesn’t fail to remind me how much I don't deserve your affection, your letters or your touch. Everything reminds me of you, and everything that doesn’t just makes me feel like I'm drifting further away from the only place i’ve ever called home.

I can attempt to put into words how sorry I am for how things happened between us, but my intention was never to hurt you or to ruin anything we could’ve been. I miss your hands running through my hair on the nights when i couldn’t sleep, i miss your arms around my body tightening on the days when we had to separate for a few days, i miss seeing your eyes shine with admiration while watching the sun set over the horizon from the palace’s roof, but most of all i just miss… you.

I’d trade a lifetime of adventures for just a minute of your presence,

S.

Written on August 19th: The journey back to Ravka. Letter never sent.

I’m on my way back to Ravka and the only thing I can think about is your sleeping figure the morning i left. My mind should be occupied with thoughts about the responsibilities that await me, about the Sun Summoner and The Darkling, about the war and the fold, but they’re not.

The space you occupy in my thoughts and in my heart is almost suffocating, sucking the air and life out of everything until there’s nothing else but you. I should’ve put you first, and I should've come back the minute I realized my mistake, but I was scared of my feelings so I avoided them until it was too late.

I keep thinking you’ll run into my arms and tackle me onto the ground when you see me again just like last time, your hair looking like you just rolled out of bed and your eyes filled with sleep.

I’ll see you soon,

S.

Written on February 9th: One day after the Darkling’s attack on the Little Palace. Barely legible handwriting.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Written on February 13th: Five days after the Darkling’s attack on the Little Palace. Letter lost at sea.

I’ll never stop looking for you, and I promise I'm coming back for you, I won't let him hurt you. I’m sorry that my foolishness led you to end up in his hands.

I’ll find my way back to you, because it’s always you,

N.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: This is almost purely fluff. There’s some angst in there, but it’s just, like...A speck. And it’s covered over by fluff. Also I’ve never been to Austin, I did a lot of Googling for this bit, so if any of it is inaccurate, I’m sorry!! It seems like such a cool town and I don’t wanna do it a disservice! Lastly, I linked the museum and the art pieces mentioned in the chapter at the end of the chapter, under the tags. Summary: You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for.

While you and Marcus would be helping Marnie and the family out with wedding prep during the week, they didn’t have anything in particular scheduled for that day. After he’d had his breakfast, Marcus had showered, gotten dressed, and left to get the car that he’d rented for two of you to use that week. You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for. “I wanna show you around while we’ve got some time,” Marcus had told you between stealing sips of your coffee (which were solely permitted because the two of you were pretending to be together - if this had been under any other circumstance, he would not have gotten away with a single sip. His parents had found it adorable. You had found it a loss of coffee).

You dressed in casual clothing, things that you knew you’d have no trouble walking around in for the day. Marcus honked twice once he was outside in the rental, and you bid quick goodbyes to his family. 

-- “So,” Marcus glanced over at you from behind the dark lenses of his aviator sunglasses, “We have a few options-- well, we’ve got a ton, but, I was thinking we could take a tour of the Capitol building, and check out the Harry Ransom Center -- it’s this massive archive and library. There are a few places we could hit for lunch, and then… I don’t know, the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center? And I thought we could finish with the Blanton Museum of Art?... Or is that, like, a no, since we’re both kinda around art all the time?” You watched him for a few moments, stunned. He’d clearly gone out of his way to think about what you’d like to do -- places that he knew and that you would like. He wanted you to have fun, and time out of the house - away from his family. Marcus was taking you out and about like… Like he probably would a real girlfriend. “That all sounds really awesome,” You admitted softly. Marcus grinned at you, and you settled back in your seat, facing forward again. -- Conversation came as easily as it had when you were in D.C. Marcus dropped the odd fact about Austin now and again (though it was nothing near his panicked post-flight info-dump), pointed out his old haunts, told you about his and Marnie’s childhoods. Even without his family around, you found that the two of you kept close. You reached for one another’s hands; Marcus drew you into his side when you were in crowded places; even when there was plenty of room, Marcus’ hand was on your shoulder, or your back. The contact was comforting; it didn’t feel forced.  You found yourselves strolling through the Blanton with your fingers intertwined, speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the patrons around you. It was where the two of you wound up spending most of your day, discussing Fogel’s Conflict and Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi and Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt. When you drifted into the Klimt pieces on loan from the Belvedere Museum in Vienna, and the two of you stopped in front of The Kiss, Marcus cupped your chin and leaned down, pecking the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help the stupid grin that took over your face, and you leaned into him, turning your head and hiding your face in his shoulder. 

He just curled an arm around you, smoothing a thumb along your side as you let your sheepishness run its course. You turned your head as it ebbed away, finally, taking in the intertwined lovers, robed in gold and adorned with flowers. 

--

“Okay, this… Is stupidly cool,” You admitted, looking around. “I was a little worried that you were going to stop at ‘stupid’.” “No!” You laughed, “I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Marcus had brought you to a bar with an arcade in Southern Congress for dinner. The two of you had ordered dinner and were looking for a few games to play before the food arrived. “They’ve got a little bit of everything. Pinball, Pac-man, Tron, Skeeball,” Marcus listed off. “Galaga?” “They’ve got Galaga.” “Perfect.” Marcus was exceptional at Pac-man and pinball, but you learned that you had the upper hand when it came to air hockey. You managed to play two games of it (both of which you won) before the food came. “Today has all been insanely awesome,” You told him after you’d polished off your pizza, “Thank you. I mean-- Seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” “I didn’t want you feeling like we were stuck at my family’s place all week, and...I mean I know we’re down here for Marnie, but you said you’d never been to Austin. I didn’t want you to miss out on seeing the city.” You and Marcus shared a smile before he added, “The whole day has been insanely awesome, huh?” “Yeah.” “Even in the kitchen?” “You mean when you were drinking my coffee? ‘Cause that put you on thin ice, mister.” “Right before that,” He corrected. The smile he was giving you was two parts bashfulness and one part coy. You folded one arm on the table, pillowing your chin on your other hand. “...Yeah, I’d include that. As first kisses go, it was…” You nodded a little, eyeing Marcus from under your lashes, “It was very...Very nice.” “‘Very nice’?” Marcus repeated, “I guess that’s not the worst review I’ve ever gotten.” “Don’t get all huffy,” You chuckled, ”I mean it, it was… I forgot what being kissed like that even felt like.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that...Was my first kiss in two years.” “Two-- How is that possible?” Marcus’ brow furrowed. You rolled your eyes a little bit, glancing away from Marcus as embarrassment swirled in your stomach. “The last person was my ex-fiancé. After that fell apart…” You shrugged, “I haven’t dated since.” You felt Marcus lean a little closer to get a better look at you. “Did you give up on finding someone?” “Not on purpose. I think I just...Built up some walls that I had torn down really quickly with them. And I built those walls up double. I prioritized work-- the devil I knew, you know.” “No dates, nothing?” “Nope.” “How many people did you turn down?” “What makes you think I turned anyone down?” Marcus tipped his head to the side, giving you a slight once-over as he muttered, “C’mon.” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Well, how long after your engagement broke did you wait to date?” You asked. Marcus’ lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line before he admitted, “Five months.” “What made you get back out there? I mean… How’d you know you were ready?” “I wasn’t, but I was worried that if I waited until I was, the woman that had asked me out wouldn’t be available when I got there. I took a leap. It wasn’t a good leap, but it was a leap,” he chuckled, “And it made me remember that dating can suck and putting myself out there could be scary, but… Ultimately, it’s worth it.” You and Marcus regarded one another quietly for a moment. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking. You couldn't understand how he was still so open to finding love when he'd been hurt the way he had. That sort of loss had only made you want to recede; it seemed to make Marcus even more determined to find love. Frankly, it was a wonder that he hadn't yet— he was the kindest man you'd ever met. You lowered your eyes to your empty plate as you realized that you were staring. It was easy to get caught up in his warm eyes; you’d found it happening more often lately, and it certainly suited the purposes of the lie you were playing up around his family. But there was something about all of it— his gaze, his smile, everything that the two of you had done today — it stirred up twinges or remorse. Lately you’d found yourself wondering if there ever could’ve been something real between the two of you, if you’d met under different circumstances. That was a very dangerous line of thought.

“If you’re finished with your food, we can go play some more air hockey.” You smiled at the offer, glancing back up at him as you asked, “I didn’t kick your ass enough the first time?” “Oh-- I was just warming up.” “Clocking all of my moves?” “Exactly.” “We’ll see about that.” (You beat him three more times.) (You let him win once.)

--

You flicked off the light before getting into bed, tucking yourself in beside Marcus. He yawned and mumbled, “G’night.” “Goodnight, what?” Marcus let out an exaggerated sigh, “Goodnight, supreme air hockey winner.” “Thank you.” “Mhm.” “I don’t ask for much.” “I know.” “Just that you steer clear of my coffee—” “Uh huh.” “And address me by my proper title.” You glanced over as you felt Marcus shift in the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as his arm wound around your middle, his hand dangling against your side as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “Sleep,” He urged in a mumble, “Oh supreme one.” You settled down, resting one of your hands atop Marcus’ arm. It was a warm, comforting weight; a sweet touch that you could, if you weren’t careful, find yourself getting used to. “‘Oh supreme one’,” You repeated quietly, peering up at the ceiling, “I could get used to that.” Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @elen-aranel​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​ ; @artsymaddie​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @lunaserenade​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​​ ; @hnt-escape​ ; @writingletterstothefire​​ ; @misswriter​​ ; @bison-writes​​

Museums & Art Work

The Blanton Museum of Art

Fogel’s Conflict

Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi

 Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt The Belvedere Museum

Klimt’s The Kiss

[wangshuus]

delicacy | diluc ragnvindr

pairing: yan!diluc ragnvindr/gn!reader

genre: psychological

cw: unhealthy relationship, mentions of forced marriage, ooc diluc (lol)

wc: 2.6k

summary: to diluc, you are a delicacy that he wishes to savour.

note: i’m sorry in advance my dear readers this is absolute dog water ajfhaiufhfui. this was just an experiment since i don’t think i’ve written a decent yandere ever and this kinda proves it but it’s ok i’ll get there one day. just take my ooc diluc. yes, i know i screwed up real bad on this one but let's just say i loosened a few screw for the sake of the plot,,,yeah,,,i’ll probably need to proof read this again too but its ok ahhhhh.

“It’s useless to keep tugging at those binds. You know they won’t come off unless I take them off myself. Now, be good and sit still.” You heard a familiar voice. 

It was once a voice that you were delighted to hear but now the very mention of the owner sent a wave of striking cold upon your body, ironic considering who it was. You had no idea where you were, what day it was, or what time it was. You were completely clueless, being stuck in a dark room with nothing but a bed in which you’ve been bound by the headboard. The room was concerningly chilly, the air in the room being crisp, cold and suffocating. The figure in the room made their way to the edge of the bed next to sit next to you. You felt a gloved hand place itself upon your cheek. It was so warm you almost wanted to lean into it but you refused to find comfort in the touch of your detainer.

You were but a simple bartender, loyal to working at the famous Angel’s Share in Mondstadt. You previously resided in Springvale with your parents but moved to the city due to your job. Your family lived a happy little life, not drowning in riches but being comfortable enough to sustain a plausible living. In your head, you were so painfully boring; so here lies the question, how exactly did you get into this situation? Not even you knew the answer but one thing that you could make sense of in the whole ordeal was that the main that stood in front of you was mad.

Diluc Ragnvindr has many titles ranging from the renowned owner of the Dawn Winery to one of Mondstadt’s most esteemed bachelors. He claimed such a high and mighty reputation that no one would’ve guessed the devious intents hidden in the back of his head. Yes, you were a mere bartender that worked under him at his own tavern but ever since you were hired, he felt something stirring up within him. Now you see, Diluc wasn’t someone that you would find chasing after anyone in fact, he’s never chased after anyone at all until he met you. He was confused at first why he started feeling the way that he did when you were around, unfamiliar emotions began to bubble inside of him.

You were just so easy to talk to, so charming, so comforting, a breath of fresh air to him, truly. At first, he assumed it would be nothing but a short lived infatuation, expecting for his feeling to dissipate like a dying flame in a matter of time but this flame only burned bigger, brighter, and belligerent as the days passed. Diluc wasn’t exactly sure how his feelings came to be. Perhaps it was due to the loss, betrayal and tragedy that stained his past. Maybe it was his longing to be loved again, to hold someone close and never let go, or to have someone hold him and allow him to bask in the feeling of being lovingly embraced-- which was a feeling that became painfully foreign to him.

It had been so long since he found comfort in anything or anyone, becoming accustomed to being isolated, building up walls to keep everyone out and away. He had no one left to care for and presumably no one left to care for him, making the pyro wielder take on such an aloof personality. After his whole ordeal, he was never truly the same, so to see him look genuinely pleased by someone was such a shock to the public eye. Of course, you had come to enjoy Diluc’s presence as he stopped by the tavern fairly often to check up on the flow of business and you had the chance to talk to him during his visits. You had heard from others that the young man was awfully reserved and indifferent towards any subject matter but he was seemingly interested in any conversation between the two of you, even partaking in the act of idle-chit chat as a means to continue talking to you. Anything for you.

He was greatly enamoured by you; everything about you. He’s taken every second he could to observe you and your nature, falling in love with the little things about you from the way you brightened up the room with your cheerful demeanour, the way you gracefully made your way across the tavern during, the way your eyes twinkled when you were talking about him about something you loved--archons the way he wished for you to only look at him with those eyes full of an enthusiastic sparkle. He wanted that; and he wanted it all for himself. Once he realized this was the case, he went through a spiralling hole of madness. He found himself being obsessive with looking out for you, going above and beyond by following you in the shadows every chance he could get, his self control on his possessiveness running as thin as a strand of hair. 

Diluc was scary to say the least. His ability to deceive people into thinking he was still the reserved yet distinguished gentleman while he was falling into a pit of insanity was nothing short of terrifying. He remained unsuspecting and planned to keep it that way, deeming himself capable of being able to resist his maniacal urges. All until one conversation between the two. You had mentioned that your family had begun to run into a few financial problems, becoming entangled in a circle of debt. You had concluded that though you loved what you were doing, it couldn’t have been enough to support your situation so you had conversed with Diluc about going to Liyue to find extra work. All you knew was that there was a high chance you couldn’t stay grounded at the tavern forever, even rejecting Diluc’s offer of a raise, deeming that you didn’t deserve it and did not wish to trouble him. You saw this as a good opportunity to explore beyond the land of the wind that you had ironically been grounded at your entire life. 

Oh no no no, this couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it to happen. And that’s when he snapped. 

Diluc’s mind worked quickly as he devised a dubious plan to keep you grounded. He knew what you were like; he knew you would be stubborn and go. He saw that shine of determination in your eyes when you mentioned your plans of fleeing Mondstadt, the same shine that he wanted to capture and keep for himself and oh boy, he was gonna have it. The next time you saw him, he had personally invited you to a party that he said he was hosting. You found it quite surprising since it was a rarity for him to ever host a party considering his nature but you accepted nonetheless. You trusted Diluc enough and besides, who would deny an invitation from someone like him. Little did you know, this was quite possibly one of the worst decisions you’ve made in your entire life.

“Dear, you’re spacing out again.” He spoke, a foreign tone that sounded so sickly sweet to a point where you wanted to hurl. 

“Please don’t address me as such. You’re twisted for doing this. What do you even want from me? Huh? I can’t offer you anything so this is nothing but a waste of time.” You spat at him, harshly pulling your cheek away from his grasp. 

“Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me. Also, I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting disobedient before I really lose my patience. I’ve been so patient with you, do you know that? I’ve been waiting for ages to have you all to myself like this but…” He paused for a moment.

“I was far too nice and considerate of your freedom. To think I’d let you leave just like that is absurd. That’s exactly why you’re here. I’d like to apologize in advance for tricking you into thinking there was an actual party, especially since you got all dressed up for me tonight but I believe this is quite the positive thing because now I’m the only one that gets to see you like this” He said as he gently lifted up a piece of fabric from your clothing.

“You wore the clothing I had custom made for you. I knew you would look ravishing in it. You’re my pretty little doll, aren’t you dear?” He said as he brought a piece up to his lips as they gently graced the smooth satin of your outfit. 

A strange package had made its way to your doorstep days before this treacherous evening. When opening it up, it was revealed to be a black and red outfit made of what felt like to be the finest fabrics and silk you’ve ever seen. The first time you tried it on, you felt ecstatic with being gifted to you, blushing to yourself over the fact that Diluc had gone out of his way to get you something this stunning. Now, you wanted nothing more than to rip the thing off your body and run away from the damned place you were held captive but you knew it was no use at this point. Your body shivered at the coldness of the room as it felt like the sheer cold was steadily increasing.

“You’re shivering. You’re cold aren’t you?” Diluc said, having the audacity to chuckle at your pathetic state. You stayed quiet, not wanting to admit or give into anything.

“No response? Oh well, it’ll only be a matter of time until the possibility of freezing to death becomes exceptionally high. I’d rather not have that happen so I’ll do you a favour since you happen to be a little shy isn’t that right? You don’t need to be shy with me. Come here.” He says as he draws closer to you. Your chains rattled while you attempted to put as much distance as you could between you two but it was no use. He swiftly wrapped his arms around you, one hand wrapped around your waist, the other at the back of your head, pulling you into the crook of his neck. Your hands pushed against his chest in a poor attempt to put as much distance between you and him but in the end, you couldn't bring yourself to. The coldness of the room significantly weakened you although it ceased when he held you, his body warmth being enough for him and yourself as well. You cursed the pyro wielder and his antics. He knew that you’d be freezing, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get closer to you. Your arms fell back on to you sides 

“There you go, all relaxed now. See, nice and warm.” He cooed while stroking the back of your head lovingly. Although you were physically warm now, you still felt a shiver run down your spine at the touch of the pyro user.

“You’re sensitive to touch, how cute.” He stated before pulling away to look you in the eyes, the edges of his lips slightly upturned.

“On another note, I have some news to share with you.” He spoke out. Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of more news, thinking there is no possible way that anything could get any worse; unfortunately, you were dead wrong.

“You see, I had the chance to speak with your parents the other day in regards to your financial situation. I explained to them that I was more than willing to help them but they became quite stubborn after I introduced my offer. I see where you get your stubbornness from now.” He sighed.

Your eyes widened, fear, anger and concern mixing in your (e/c) orbs. 

“Diluc, I swear to the archons what did you--.” He brought a finger up to your lips to hush you from your growing concern. 

“Hush now, there’s no need to get riled up, I’m not finished. Now quiet down and listen to me.” He stated.

“It was quite a simple offer I gave them, really. I would be a financial aid all in exchange for your hand in marriage. They started to get all defensive, claiming that they’d never marry off their child. They were oh so protective over you, but they could never come close to comparing to me.”

Dread and horror filled your eyes as you were rendered speechless, waves of unpleasant emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. 

“You see, it definitely took a lot of work to get where we are now, but you need not to worry, dear. They will not be of any concern to us anymore.” He said as a smile graced his features. You would’ve considered him to be handsome in the moment but the smile he held was so deranged that it was appalling. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, too afraid to even ask what happened to them or what became of them. You knew the situation; you knew the power that Diluc held. He was well aware of his looming power of you and he used it and abused it. It didn’t take very long for your tears to start streaming from your eyes as you began to sob, tears spilling onto your lap. Diluc cupped your face as he brushed away the oncoming tears that continued to overflow. 

“Shhh, don’t cry my dear, this news is excellent. I couldn't even fathom you getting hurt or even leaving me but I don’t have to worry now do I? Because you’re going to be all mine.” He said before forcibly kissing your tear-stained cheeks. 

You felt absolutely disgusting and embarrassed over the lips that graced your skin, having someone as unhinged and deranged as him seeing you in such a vulnerable and helpless state. 

“You know, I’ve had my fair share of people both leave and betray me.They’ve left me alone in this world but none of it matters now that I have you here. You’re the most divine person I’ve come across. So lovely, so warm, and so bright, like the rays of sunlight. I want to bask in your presence and now, I can for however long I’d like. I refuse to lose anyone else, especially not you and now this time, I know I won’t. If your freedom has to be sacrificed in order for you to stay alive, so be it. I’ll choose you the finest white attire for our special day. You’ll be me precious darling for the rest of your days. Doesn’t that sound lovely, dear?” You remained unresponsive.

One of his hands slipped past the fabric of your clothing as his gloved fingertips lightly pressed onto the bare small of your back, earning a yelp from you.

“I said doesn’t that sound lovely? Respond when spoken to. I want to hear your voice.” He said sternly. You managed to mumble out a small yes in return.

“That’s my good little darling.” He spoke before before he pulled you in for a kiss. You refused to return the action and it certainly didn’t go over his head. The hand that rested on the small of your back began to get hotter, feeling as if it was searing your skin, earning a shriek and a cry from you, allowing him to deepen his passion filled kiss, smirking at the way you’ve decided to submit yourself to him while his own lips remained locked with your own.

The land of Mondstadt was said to be the land of freedom and yet here you were, your fate bound and chained by the insanity disguised as love by Diluc Ragnvindr. You were a delicacy to him, and he’d be sure to savour every last bit of you. 

[dxmmymxmmywrites]

Old Flames

Tsunade Senju x F! reader smut

Warnings: cursing, angst at the beginning, oral sex, scissoring

Very excited to be writing for my bi-awakening queen Tsunade 🥰🥰🥰 love her so much, she needs more content AND appreciation

This is also less smutty than I usually do, so I may come back to this later when life allows to add more to the spicy bits

The sky is dark with the coming storm when you make your walk to the Hokage’s office. It’s the perfect environment to match your inner turmoil, broiling over with too many uncertainties for your liking.

You kept away as long as you could. And honestly, it probably wasn’t the best decision. Now you were just angry with yourself for not coming sooner and so sexually frustrated you could palpably feel your need aching between your legs.

You had done whatever you could in your early days as a Kunoichi. You had always been a little power hungry, but with a desire to actuate positive change in the leaf village. It had led you through to an established reputation as a feared ninja across the Shinobi nations, and along the way you had manage to leave some good behind you.

For some, it had to be hard to imagine you as a naive young woman in your youth. You were hardened by the world quickly, but it didn’t stop you from holding your favorite people very close to your heart.

The new Hokage happened to be one of them. Tsunade Senju.

The two of you had grown up with the same peers, and had observed each other from afar when you were placed in your Genin teams. When you did interact more often, you became quick friends and confidants— two hotheaded and insanely smart girls that were ready to encourage the other to take on the world.

It was a brighter time, before tragedy had shaped you both. Tsunade losing both her brother and promised lover nearly destroyed her, and you did what you could to comfort her when you could.

It became a new way to bond with her teammates, as you all took the time to check in on her, but it would shape your view of Tsunade most.

Despite everything, she still held so many qualities you admired despite losing her faith for some time. She was a damn hard worker, brilliant as ever, and had a kind soul once you got past her shell. It made you weak every time you thought about how you realized your feelings for the first time.

It was a classic case of someone falling head over heels for their best friend. With this of course came the companion cliche of not wanting to ruin your friendship by confessing your love in any way. So you kept your thoughts to yourself as long as you could.

And it was painful. But eventually, they came to a head at the worst possible time— when Tsunade was preparing to leave the village.

Although... the outcome initially was not as bad as it could have been.

You convinced her to delay her exodus for a week. That entire time, the two of you were nearly inseparable. And you fucked like raving animals.

It was a life changing event for you— enough to cement the fact that you, indeed, loved women. But most of all, you loved her.

At some point after an exhausting collection of rounds in bed, you had known your time with her was coming to an end. You couldn’t stop the years even if you tried, because in that moment life sucked and it wasn’t fucking fair that you couldn’t keep anything good in your life.

You had been so tired then, but you have vague memories of her holding you close, and her velvety lips kissing your tears away. It made her absence the next day all the more painful.

She had left at some point in the night when you fell asleep, thought she could never tell you how long she waited in the window before leaving you. You had woken up a love in her unlike any other— and it terrified her. She had lost enough people already in her life, so she followed what her heart told her was the best course of action; leave, before you’re broken again.

It hardened both of you emotionally. Everything was a threat, nothing worth letting down your walls for. While she abandoned her ninja way for years, you clung to yours with everything you had. It might have paid off, but what worth did it have when at home you sat by yourself, when your select companions were away?

You thought of her every night all the same. Sure, you could enjoy others from afar as you once did, but no one was her. No one could ever fill the void she did.

And little did you know, when you least expected it, she would come parading into your life again.

You hadn’t thought Jiraya would be successful in retrieving her, as cynical as it may sound. But then there she was, accepting her role as Hokage before the village in all her fame and glory like she was born to do it. And you had never been so proud, and had never wanted her so badly than how you did in that moment.

Even with the time apart, your reunion was not as horrendously awkward as it could have been. You greeted each other as old friends, and within the week you became one of the honored members of her council. No one bat an eye at this, because you had earned the right to the seat three times over. But Jiraya did grin when Tsunade announced your appointment.

And life went on. It wen on. And on. And on.

And it drove you insane.

Your friendship rekindled in a way you had not expected at all. And she never even mentioned anything regarding your week together before her disappearance.

It pissed you off how unbothered she appeared by it. You bickered like an old married couple and defended each other like the war heroes you were, but goddamn it did you want more validation than a fancy new job where you got to eyeball the woman you had been in love with for most of your life.

So onwards you went to the Hokage’s office. You would settle this, and you would settle it that night if it was the last thing you did.

If anyone notice your darker mood, they steered far out of your path as you travelled. It wasn’t as late as it could have been, so Tsunade would mostly likely still be at work in her office. Later in the day was usually when Shizune could successfully corner her to do paperwork anyway.

Inside the building, you begin to hear the echo of rain from outside.

You take the precaution of knocking on her door with the formal greeting, and she allows you in.

She smirks at you and prepare a remark— but you don’t let her start.

“We need to talk.”

Her expression becomes stern instantly. “What’s wrong? Any threatening reports?”

You cock your head at her, then shake your hands “No, no, this isn’t about work. This is personal.”

She couldn’t have looked more confused if she tried. However, she did remain silent, so you continued with your thoughts. And you locked eyes with her.

“Are we ever going to talk about what happened when you left? At all? Or did it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes widened, but knowingness came to them. “I didn’t think you would—“

“Whatever you think I just need to hear the truth.”

“I think that—“

“And don’t bullshit me on feelings—“

“Damn it Y/N, shut up!” Tsunade rose from her desk, leaning over it. Her irritated look is intimidating, but you know better.

A quiet moment follows, but your voice betrays you. “I just need to know,” you admit, sounding more defeated than anyone— especially Tsunade— had probably ever heard you sound.

There’s a part of Tsunade that’s fuming at being interrupted so many times, undoubtedly. But some aspect of her fury is doused when she sees how dejected you look on the other side of her desk. She didn’t think she had ever seen you look so small, and like you wanted to curl into yourself.

She never wanted you to make yourself lesser around her. The thought of you being in pain when she fled...

Emotions were swirling within her like a maelstrom.

“Come here,” she commands. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to.

Anyone else would have gotten a snide remark addressing you like that. But you walk until you’re directly in front of the desk, and she pushes her chair out of the way to stand before you.

When she stands fractions of an inch away from you, your heart rate quickens. The intensity of her expression is almost scalding. But it is not angry.

You open your mouth to speak again, but she breached the gap between you. Both of her hands grasp your face in such a mash of assertiveness and tenderness— but what knocks the breath from your lungs is the powerful kiss.

You wish you could say you responded immediately, but you were so shocked all you could do was tremble. Eventually, you felt her hands slink down to tenderly hold your neck as her tongue slipped past your lips.

Part of you wanted to fight her off. To get the last word in, or have the last snappy response. But you couldn’t fight how badly you wanted her to tighten the grip over your windpipe.

“I have never forgotten you,” she pants when gasping for air. “Not even once.”

She dives in for another kiss, and this time you have no regrets about giving in to it. Her hold around your neck tightens, and she’s upon you in an instant. Years upon years of tension and unsaid affection finally come crashing together in an emotional storm akin to the one outside Tsunade’s doors.

Just as she presses her chest to yours, her tongue slips into your mouth and you can’t help but to groan. However, you’re not one to give in so easily— and neither is she. Your sharp nails run over clothed back enough to give her goosebumps, and she reciprocates by sliding her hands into your hair to firmly tighten her grip. In the moment, it’s almost like neither of you need to breathe— your tongues dance in unison and all you can feel is the building heat in your gut as you melt into the other’s touch.

When you finally do part for air, she grins, devilishly.

“I see you still have a dirty mouth.”

You can’t help but turn red. “Shut up and get on the desk.”

That does catch her attention— it had been a while since anyone had the balls to mouth off to the Hokage. It was sexy as hell... and it made her recount all the reasons she fell for you in the first place.

She does step back to sit on the desk, and you follow after her just as she perches like a cat, eyeing you with ample amusement. Just as you set your hands beside her waist and lean in, she pulls at the wrap of her tunic and opens her strong legs.

“Are you going to stand there Y/N?” She purrs. “Or are you going to actually do something?”

It makes your blood boil, but you can’t help the excitement that comes from wrapping your arms around her again. She melts into your kiss the same way you did with hers, but your head starts to swim when you feel her legs wrap around your middle. Who in their right mind wouldn’t let their hands wander to glide up her thighs, listening to her moan, to firmly squeeze her love handles before returning the love to her ass?

You certainly were not going to waste the opportunity. And an opportunity you make it.

And despite being the one above her as you gently push her down against the desk, you melt into her kiss all the same. You throw one knee onto the desk to steady yourself enough to lovingly stroke her sides as you begin to nip marks into her neck.

It makes the grips her legs have on you all the more constricting. She rolls her hips upwards deliciously into yours, leaning to expose as much of her collarbone to you as possible. Any control at that point is abandoned— you nearly purr as you kiss and suck as much exposed skin as possible.

Who would have thought you would have the chance to hear her lovely voice again, much less her tantalizing moans.

“I think I may be one of the only people alive that can say I’ve knocked one of the Sanin on their backs,” you muster with confidence, and give her a sly grin.

There’s a slight glare from her, but she snorts all the same and chuckles. Tsunade raises forward and takes your lips with hers once more, pushing you to climb all the way on top or the desk.

Neither of you can fight the passion between you any longer. Your gasps and moans become louder, and the two of you begin to strip between feverish kisses and gropes. And not a single ounce of self control remains between you when Tsunade peels your underwear down your legs.

It’s like a volt of electricity goes through your body when she unabashedly spreads your legs and licks a stripe up your wet cunt. Her searing gaze locks with yours as she moves her mouth, and your eyes roll backwards when she plunges her tongue directly into your core.

It makes you squeal but she holds your thighs in place as you shake— and there was no way in hell you were getting out of her grasp. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

Her tongue swivels inside you and laps at your insides, stoking every ounce of pleasure out of you that you could think to feel. She remains as unashamed as ever, relishing in the wet noises of your arousal as she begins to thumb your clit and slurp your building orgasm.

You chant her name over and over as she tastes you— ravished you— but in an instant you tap her three times with your pointer finger. Your old signal to stop during sex makes her pause, not just to respect your boundaries. It feels odd to remember an old habit again.

She looks to you for an answer, and you order a smile. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

She grins, but before Tsunade can counter your remark you offer her a hand to pull her up to you. Quickly, you wrap your legs around her middle and shift your weight, putting her beneath you (despite having to save her from nearly falling off the desk.)

Who knows how many people would give their all to be in your position, crawling over the fifth Hokage, trailing your tongue up from her center. Tsunade looks just as pleased, watching you navigate her skin with a hunger you’ve only ever seen her display at war.

And a hunger she proves when she locks her tongue with yours again.

Your bodies writhe against each other with the most tantalizing friction, and you can feel her legs begin to quiver. “Y/n,” she starts, and trails away.

There’s not much you can imagine she would want to say in this moment. “What?” You ask her.

And she smiles at you. The genuine smile you fell for over and over again in your youth, and the one that lingered in your head for years on end.

“I love you. But hurry it up.”

It’s as close to endearing as she would be willing to get, but it still makes the heat in your face reappear. And it ignites the final fuse in your cunt.

You reach to hold the back of her head gently, just as she licks your bottom lip. She practically purrs your name when you put one of your knees beside her waist, and ease to lay your other leg flat.

It’s like electricity across your skin when you finally get to move against her this way. The two of your bare, sloppy cunts squelching together as you both bucked into the other.

You had to touch her everywhere. You could feel the tingle in your spine, and the insatiable desire to lick her and massage her breasts. She was everything you had every wanted, and everything you had ever wanted to fight for.

The gods themselves would have to pry you away from her now.

[misterewrites]

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist  OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later) 

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary:  Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.��� Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.6)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Sidenote: I’ve been hooked on this song and feel like it fits the vibe for this chapter but it is optional to listen to...enjoy!

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, smoking, freaky thangs..

Erik glanced at the digital clock in his car. It was almost four in the morning. The job was done and with the help of Cane they were able to get out of there in one piece. Shaking his head he laughed to himself. He still couldn’t believe it when he saw Alexis with Shawn.

It wasn’t hard to believe but it did fuck him up a bit. In reality Erik didn’t know why he was surprised. After getting to know about Alexis he knew she was always chasing the next bag. Even if it meant coming up off of another nigga.

Out of the nine months they messed around she was always the one pressing him to take their relationship to the next step. She was the one that tried to tie their names together in the streets. It was always her putting forth the effort. Then it was shit like what he saw tonight that had cause Erik to have trust issues.

But was that something he could even judge her for? Of course not. He didn’t put a title on her and vice versa. All this did was make him come to the realization that she was never down for him. Only what he could do for her.

With all of these ideas going through his head the last thing Erik wanted to do was be alone. His mind was filling up with negative thoughts. Mainly about how the situation could’ve went bad if he would have acted on his feelings. Erik’s mood switched and he wanted to see the one person who he knew could change that.

Hoping she picked up,Erik sat nervously as the other end of the phone began to ring. If she didn’t answer he would have no other choice but to drown himself in a few blunts and a fifth of Hennessy.

She answered on the fourth ring.

“Hello.” Her soft voice came through the speaker. It sounded like she was wide awake.

He relaxed in his seat feeling a relief. “What you still doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. What about you? Everything okay?”

Erik could hear the worry in her tone. He half smiled. That was something she always did, she cared about him.

“Yeah I’m good.” He paused. “Listen I know this might be a stretch but do you think you could sneak out pass your brother and come meet me. I know it sounds-“ Erik was rambling. Something he never did.

Amiyah cut him off with a light giggle. “Erik I could meet up with you. I’m not at my apartment I’m staying with a friend.”

Erik’s brows drew together with a slight look of confusion. It was four in the morning and she wasn’t home. That was the first Erik ever heard of knowing how his friend is about his sister. But he didn’t ponder over the thought.

“Okay well send me the address and I’ll pull up.” He put her on speaker waiting for her to reply as he pulled up the gps on his phone.

“65 Lafayette Ave.” Amiyah answered with a controlled smile. Not wanting to seem eager to see him.

It was a fifteen minute drive from where Erik was.

“Alright I’ll call you when I’m there.”

“Okay, see you Erik.”

“Aight mamas.”

Amiyah jumped off the couch and crept to her friends bathroom. Turning on the light she saw her appearance and immediately cringed. Her eyes were still red and puffy from her tears. Face covered in faint runny eye liner. Her hair was fuzzy and wild. She was in no condition to go see Erik the way she looked.

Grabbing a face cloth from her friends cabinet she ran it under warm water before sitting it on her face and letting it rest against her skin. Amiyah sighed at the sensation. Wiping her face she made sure she got every inch of coverage before she checked other areas of her body to make sure she smelled fresh.

She gave her hair a few pass overs with a brush to make it at least somewhat presentable. Glancing over herself in the mirror she felt satisfied and exited the bathroom. Going back to the couch she was crashing on she put on a white tank top and paired it with a pair of grey sweats. Throwing a jean jacket on she slipped on her UGG slippers and waited silently.

When her phone rung this early in the morning she thought it would be her brother calling to apologize but instead it was Erik. She knew for sure it was her mind playing tricks on her but when she answered and heard his voice butterflies filled her stomach. After the date Amiyah figured she had to wait until she seen him in person again to make contact with him but when he called asking her to hangout this later she couldn’t decline.

It wasn’t too long before her phone lit up with a text notification. Erik was letting her know that he was waiting for her outside. Getting up and checking her face one last time by the mirror Kelley had next to the front door she flipped her hair over her shoulder and snuck out the front door. When she got on the porch she seen his Infinity waiting in the middle of the street unbothered with any traffic coming through.

She watched as he got out but stayed by his vehicle. Doing a quick glance over at his face Amiyah noticed the stress in his eyes. It was as if they were filled with the emotion of hurt. No wonder he called asking to see her this late. He needed comfort. Walking up to him she went straight for a hug. The way he taught her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he did her waist.

Amiyah felt him breathe out an air of ease. His body slouching over on hers and she would let him as long as he wanted just to take away his troubles. She closed her eyes as they quietly embraced each other’s body. It was a comfortable silence. From the way they held on to each other it was obvious that they very much missed one another.

“Why you so good to me ma?” Erik whispered in her ear not letting her out of his hold yet.

Speaking truthfully in their current position of vulnerability she replied. “Because I care about you. I want you to be happy.”

Erik closed his eyes hearing the words escape from her mouth. She was making it hard for him to keep up with his ‘not trusting women’ demeanor. The way she was holding onto his body had him rethinking himself. Her nails grazing lightly on the back of his neck was driving him insane. She knew all the right things to say and do to him without even trying.

Amiyah had him open whenever they were together and she didn’t even know it. Erik finally released her body. Now staring down at her soft round face he couldn’t help himself. Dragging his hands over her love handles he pulled her towards him as bent down giving her two pecks on her lips softly. Her arms still wrapped around his neck. When Erik pulled away he seen that her eyes were still shut. Biting his bottom lip he went back in giving her a full kiss this time with a slight pull on her lower lip every now and then.

Feeling himself in the moment his hands traveled resting above her ass. Not wanting to disrespect her he asked in between indulging in her lips and taking breaks to get air for her permission.

“Can..I..touch..it?” His voice spoke lowly between pecks.

Amiyah nodded while she brought her left hand down to his cheek. She was getting better since their last kiss and her body was becoming more comfortable with his.

Seeing that she didn’t deny him access his hands continued their adventure further south. When his hands finally reached the bottom of her soft flesh he cuffed and squeezed each cheek firmly before caressing it to soothe the slight pain he may have caused.

Amiyah moaned in his mouth from the feeling. It was the first time she was ever been touched like that by a man down there. His hands felt rough but soft at the same time. The way he would grip each ass cheek and pulling on them she felt her second pair of lips separate from the action. But it was the way he rubbed it after he squeezed them that made her drip with anticipation.

Pulling away from each other they were able to get some air. By this time Erik was ready to devour her and make her body shake beneath his but he knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. She wouldn’t know how to act or what to do if he gave her what his body was craving to do to her. Feeling his dick on semi-hard he shifted himself. All of this just from kissing and touching on her. Erik wanted her bad.

“Let’s go get out of here?” His voice broke the sexual tension.

Timid and nervously looking back at her friends house she turned to face him.” To go where?”

Erik shrugged his shoulders.” I don’t know I’ll find something. Just ride with me.” He spoke before he could think finding himself doing something he thought he would never do.” Please.” He begged.

Biting her lip to hold back her smile she nodded as her hands fell from around his neck but not before getting a feel of his sturdy hard abs through his shirt. Erik felt the slick action and smirked.

“Aight let’s go.” He kissed her one last time and then patted her butt and walked her to the passenger side. He opened her door and watched as she got in safely.

Inside the car they rode around with nothing but Erik’s playlist playing lowly in the background. Amiyah’s hand rested in his right hand as his left hand gripped the steering wheel driving. Every other minute Erik would bring the back of her hand up his lips and kiss it while still paying attention to the road. No matter how many times he done it Amiyah would blush every single time. If she was lighter you would definitely see the redness in her face.

It was about twenty minutes later when Erik found a secluded area underneath the highway bridge . Around them was nothing but empty parked construction trucks and signs to let people know that work was getting done. Nearby that was a small basketball court where some of the city kids would play on. Then there was the lights from the bridge above that gave them somewhat of a illumination in the car.

Shutting the car off Erik leaned his seat back with his electric lever before resting against it. His fingers still intertwined with Amiyah’s. He watched as she did everything but look in his direction. Erik could read her body language and see that she was nervous. His thumb stroke the back of her hand to give her some reassurance.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

“Yeah. I’m good.” She gazed down in her lap before making eye contact.

Amiyah was nervous. How could she not be with her being in a closed off area with a man as fine as Erik sitting next to her holding her hand. He was touching her so tenderly. Her body reacted to each stroke of his fingers.

“Miyah if you not comfortable don’t ever hesitate to tell me. I care more about your security in your safety than me wanting to chill with you.” His unselfish nature was revealing itself with every word.

She smiled at his kindness. “I feel safe with you. It’s just some times you make me nervous.” She replied picking at the imaginary cotton lint on her sweats.

His lips curled into a smile. “Why I make you nervous?” He asked as his free hand swiped down his waves repeatedly.

Rolling her eyes Amiyah knew this question was coming next. He knew exactly how he made her nervous. The evidence clear in how her body react to him.

“I don’t know maybe it’s the way you look at me.”

There was something about being alone in this car with him that made Amiyah real honest.

His eyes danced up and down her body. Amiyah caught the gesture.

Smacking her lips. “See it’s you doing stuff like that.” She blurted out with a straight face.

He gripped her hand lightly when she made him laugh. To Erik most of the women he been with in the past was either too serious or boring but with Amiyah she was always able to get a smile out of him. From any tiny thing she did naturally it made him laugh or at least get him to smile.

“I mean I could think of something that might have you relaxed a little bit but I’m not sure you even mess with that type of shit.”

She looked at him confused.” What you mean?”

“You smoke?” He asked bluntly.

She laughed. “I’ve done it a few times when Durk wasn’t around but I’m no pro.”

Erik nodded his head head releasing her hand as he went to his middle compartment pulling out his stash. He needed a blunt after today and the one that he already had rolled up wasn’t going to do him enough justice. Taking out the one that was pre-rolled he handed it to her.

“Hold that.”

She grabbed it bringing it to her nose smell the rolled plant. Amiyah liked the way this weed smell. It wasn’t overpowering like the one Durk usually had. She observed the blunt giggling about how fat it was.

“Why is it so big?” She asked laughing.

“What the blunt or something else?” His lips smirked.

Amiyah figured she walked herself into that one. She rolled her eyes.

“No I’m just messing with you that’s just how I like mine. Can’t be fucking with no skimpy blunts now.” He smiled. Over in his seat he was rolling up two more.

After getting them rolled he grabbed his lighter from his cup holder and sparked it up. Taking a deep pull with his lips he allowed the smoke to invade his lungs for five slow seconds before exhaling. His body leaned back becoming relaxed.

Amiyah watched as he took another. He looked so good right now in his most laidback state. One hand behind his head and the other holding the blunt to his lips. She bit her lip as the smoke filled up the car. She was already feeling a contact high.

He handed over the lit blunt and watch her grasp it with the end of her nails. Erik smiled as he sat quietly watching her switch the blunt between both hands trying to get comfortable with it.

“Don’t burn my weed out.” He joked.

“Shut up Erik.” Amiyah giggled taking her first hit.

Coughing she realized she hit it too hard. Turning towards her window her balled up fist went up to her mouth as she coughed her lungs out before smacking on her chest. She handed the blunt back to Erik who was laughing.

“You good?”

She shook her head and cough one last time. Her eyes watering a bit from all of the straining.

“Damn I should’ve warned you first. My bad baby.” His hand went to her back and rubbed it.

Amiyah was already feeling high. If it wasn’t from the huge hit she took than it definitely had to be from the gas that filled the car. Her baby lungs not used to the intoxicating aroma easily gave in. She expected that to happen but she didn’t expect for her pussy to become wet. The last few times she smoked alone it just gave her a quick high and the munchies. This was different. She could feel her pussy drip and become sticky as she squirmed around in her seat trying to hide it.

The blunt found its way back to Erik’s lips. His eyes began to get lower with every hit that he took from it. He wasn’t his highest but he felt his body getting comfortable. His leg slightly rocking from side to side. He watched her body respond to the weed. She was already gone and he knew it. Erik seen her squirm in the seat and watch her thighs clenched together.

“This shit make you wanna fuck, don’t it?” No longer responsible for the words coming out of his mouth he let the burning ashes fall into the ashtray. He started up the second blunt.

Amiyah surprised from his statement but turned on at the same time giggled as her boldness level went up the more intoxicated she became.

“Something like that.” She stared in his low eyes with hers.

She was becoming brave. Her mouth was definitely trying to write a check she couldn’t cash. Even though she never had sex before Amiyah still knew what it felt like to be horny. Her body was craving for him touch her and hold her the way he did a while ago when they were outside. Amiyah wanted his big hands rubbing on her booty the way they did before.

Erik sucked in his bottom lip. His deep dimples showed from the action. She was testing him. Erik was definitely pressed from the way she was looking at him. He knew that there was no way he could fuck her in his car. But he wanted to badly. He wanted to have her dripping cum right on his leather seats. He wanted to watch her tremble and moan as he stretched her tight pussy out pinning her down by her thick thighs giving her what she thought she could handle. Erik longed to dig deep in the pussy as he hit the spots that’ll make her cry and gave her no choice but to come back to him every time she desired for them to be touched.

Taking a pull from the second blunt he returned the gaze. The smoke leaving his lips going into the direction of her face. He watched her bite her lip.

“You lookin like you wanna do something now.” He had to start applying some pressure to put her back in her place.

Shyly looking out the windshield Amiyah laughed. The weed was making her extra giggly for no reason. But she couldn’t deny that how she was feeling was from her own lust as well. She felt a warm hand grab her by the chin turning her head back in her previous direction. Erik was looking at her waiting for to respond.

“Maybe I do.” She replied with her eyes shifting down to the bulge in his black joggers she noticed a while ago. She was no longer playing it safe.

Erik’s hooded eyes followed hers. He smirked. The hand that was holding her chin swiftly went to her throat. He massaged the flesh delicately. He couldn’t help it, grabbing a woman’s neck became a kink of his not to long ago. The way that they would instantly get wet and go into submissive mode turned him on and Erik could easily tell that she was one of those that got turned on by it as well.

Amiyah felt her pussy throbbing. His hand around her like that made her panties moist. She loved it most when he gripped giving her a light squeeze. Her nipples hardening poking through her shirt as she moaned.

“Get in the backseat then.” He released her.

Her eyes gave a quick glance towards the back before looking at him.

“Now?” She breathed out heavily.

“You scared mama?” He teased her softly.

Sending him a ‘yeah right’ look she climbed to the back. Taking off her jean jacket she sat it in the front before she folded her arms resting her back against the chair.

Erik watched through the rear view mirror. He was actually surprised that she had the courage to go back there. Taking the last blunt and lighter he got out the car and opened the back door slipping inside. Putting the objects in his hand in the pouch behind the driver seat he took off his hoodie revealing a black wifebeater shirt.

Amiyah sitting on the opposite side calmed her nerves. She mentally thank God that she shaved down there two nights before. She did not want the first time she allowed a man to see her down there to be met with a bush. There was nothing wrong with having hair but she would have been insecure about it.

After getting settled Erik turned his body sideways. He reached behind him locking the door as he leaned against it.

“C’mere.”

Nervous but eager Amiyah shimmied her way to his side. His hands helping her out guiding her to sit down on his lap facing him. He gripped on her thigh throwing it over his legs so she can straddling him and had the other hanging off the seat. Not wanting to put all of her weight on him Amiyah put the pressure on her legs.

Erik sensed this. He opened her legs wider which caused her to sit on him fully. An inward growl went through his lips as he felt the weight from her ass sitting on his heavy member.

“Erik I’m too heavy.” She complained.

“You think I’m worried about that?” His voice dripping with lust as he attacked her neck.

Erik’s hands went to groping her body. He kissed and sucked until he discovered the spot that made her body shudder. It was under her jaw line. He stayed there sucking on the area leaving a mark not giving a damn about her brother being able to see it later.

Amiyah’s wide hips wiggle around on top of him as she threw her head back giving him better access. Hormones going out of control she couldn’t stop her hands from traveling to his print as she gripped it firmly.

Erik’s body jumped as he grabbed her hand taking it off his dick. He pulled his lips from her neck to observe her. The way she tried to put her hand back on him she looked anxious for some way to release the sexual adrenaline taking over her body. Erik chuckled as he held her wrists strongly.

“Damn baby you can’t be gripping my dick like you tryna snatch that shit off my body.” His voice now raspy from the smoke session.

Embarrassed, Amiyah bent her head down hiding it in his neck. Of course she would grip him too hard. She didn’t know what she was doing. Trying to not seem like the amateur she was ended up having her looking stupid. The moment was ruined.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“Here I got an idea. Turn around.” He rubbed her back waiting on her to move.

Following his command she changed her body to go the other way. She was now sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. Thankfully his seats were big enough to hold the both of them comfortably in that position.

Amiyah felt his fingers tug at the hem of her sweats. Questionably glancing at him she wondered what he was about to do to her next.

“You trust me?” Erik asked with his face next to hers.

“Yeah.”

“Then lift up and take these off.” He tugged again.

Hesitant Amiyah allowed him to pull the clothing down with her help kicking them off her ankles. Now she was exposed. In nothing but her tank top and black cotton hipster panties she felt the air brush over her thighs. Feeling her high start to come down she requested to start a new rotation.

“Can we light the last one?”

“It’s in there.” Erik pointed to the pouch where he put the lighter and the blunt in.

Reaching inside she felt around before she retrieved it. As she lit the blunt she felt Erik kiss on her neck and rub on her thighs. His full lips making her moan and rest her body on his. Taking a hit from the weed with ease this time she was able to inhale it much smoother. Her lungs filled up as it brought her back to cloud nine.

“Here you go.” She passed it to him but he didn’t take it with his hands. Erik leaned forward and let her place it in his mouth. Holding it for him as he took a few pulls she studied the way he did it and then proceeded to copy him when it was her turn. The rotation went like that before it was finished.

Erik fondled her thick thighs. Starting on the outside and working his way to the inner where her warmth resided. She laid her hands on top of his to have some sort of control but Erik didn’t like that. He knew what he was doing and didn’t need any help.

“Move ya hand.” His voice barked.

Her hands left as quickly as they met his.

“Don’t touch anything unless I tell you to. You hear me?”

“Okay.” Shakiness in her voice as her breathing picked up.

“Okay what?” He gripped underneath her knees pulling her thighs apart roughly.

“Okay Erik.”

“Un uh. It’s daddy when it’s just me and you from now on.” His lips tickled her ears as he spoke giving her future reference.

“Kay, daddy.” She moaned.

Amiyah closed her eyes. Her body kept squirming around. She was waiting and anticipated on getting her body played with. When her legs opened she felt the cool air reach her damp underwear.

Looking down between her legs he bit his lip seeing her phat pussy showing through her panties. The lower lips spilling out on the sides as the damp wet stain sat from her natural essence. His hands gripped and rubbed the inner thigh area that was closest to her treasure as he asked for her permission once again.

“Can daddy play in this pussy?”

Her wet lips parted. Amiyah nodded her head that was leaning back in his shoulder. Yearning his touch and super horny out of her mind she’d allow him to do whatever he wanted to her.

“Yes daddy.” Her voice was as soft as angel.

Hearing her words of confirmation Erik’s hand introduced itself to her pussy for the first time. He cupped the area. Her covered mound was giving off a heat that let him know that she was ready. His fingers grazed up and down the thick slit which caused her body to jerk. He did this repeatedly to make her aroused.

“Phat ass pussy.” We’re the only words that escaped his lips as it left him mesmerized. She was the first female he been with that had one so full and healthy. It felt amazing on his hand even if he wasn’t touching it quite yet.

Pulling the black piece of cloth to the side Erik revealed her vulva that was covered in her natural juices. Taking his fingers he used her lubricant swiping up and down the slit feeling her body tense up.

“Relax mama.” He kissed behind her ear as he held her in place with his left arm.

Bringing his other arm around her he reached down spreading the thick lips as a clear string of liquid appeared when the flesh pulled apart. This was a different type of wetness he was experiencing at the moment. Taking the pad of his middle finger of his free hand he patted on the bud that was now hardened.

Amiyah’s hips jerk from the sensation. Her hand clutched his forearm to stop him, keeping the foreign feeling from over taking her body. Her legs moving around as she scooted into his chest.

“Don’t you play with this pussy when you alone?” He asked as his finger tips teased the areas around her clit.

“Yes.” Eyes still closed with her hands gripping his arms as she felt every stroke of his hand.

“Yes, what?” He corrected her.

Sucking in her bottom lip. “Yes, daddy.”

“Then let me have a turn.” One of his hands grasped her fupa affectionately pulling her body into his to make her relax.

Whe she laid back Erik was able to get a better view. He spread the lips open once more. Massaging her clit lightly in a circular motion with his pointy and middle fingers. He watch her thrust her hips on his hand to feel more. Keeping up with his movements he pressed down firmly stimulating the bud before he let a finger enter her tight wet opening. Giving a low groan he drew in his top lip when he felt her grip him him from the intrusion. The pussy was too tight.

“Damn you ain’t been letting nobody up in this huh?” He cooed in her ear pushing further with a single finger going deeper.

“Unh Uh.” Amiyah whimpered out snapping her thighs closed when she felt him slip inside her.

He took the hand that wasn’t trapped between her legs and opened them. Bringing it up to her chin he made her look him in the eye. “Ima go slow..ight.”

Amiyah nervously agreed. There was plenty of times where she masturbated but she never fingered herself only clitorial stimulation. So when she felt Erik push his finger inside her, her body reacted by closing her legs. It was strange feeling but it made her wetter.

Erik didn’t waste no time as he warmed her up by playing with her clit. He wanted to make sure she was as wet as possible before she experienced any penetration so he continued to rub her there. Bringing his fingers up to her breast he flicked her nipples with his thumb through her tank top to help her climax.

The combination had Amiyah’s chest heaving up and down. She was close and ready to cum. The pressure he applied on her clit felt so good. Her hand reached for the seat clawing the material as she let him make her body come undone. Her mouth opened as her pants and whimpers became audible.

“Daddyy...I’m cumin.” She whimpered softly backing away from the stimulation.

Erik followed not letting up on her. “Lemme see you cum then. Pretty ass.” He kissed her blocking out her moans.

Amiyah’s body shook as she felt his lips. She came right there. Essence dripping down on the seat in front of her. It was like a domino effect. He controlled her body. Her clit was now sensitive but Erik continued to knead the button. Whenever she played with herself she able to get one and that’s it. She never tried to do more than that but Erik was pushing her for another.

“I want another one and then I’m done.”

His eyes were still red and low from the weed. When she came on his fingers Erik was captivated from the sight. The way her lips parted. How she grasped onto the seats searching for something to hold on to. It made his body heat up with excitement knowing that he did that. Every little thing he observed had him becoming fascinated with her.

This time he wanted to make her cum a different way. His middle finger danced around her hole making sure it was coated from her wetness before he pushed inside her tight puss. Erik felt her clench on his finger as he gently massaged her walls. Every time he would pull out she would suck him back in. He watched her face contort no longer able to control herself.

“Mm this shit tight.” He groaned affirmations in her ear as his finger stroked her at a steady pace.

When the words left his mouth Amiyah glanced down to witness his assault on her pussy. Her body was aching for more. The in and out motion with just a single digit wasn’t enough. Her pussy wanted to be stretched.

“More.” She pleaded spreading her legs wider.

“You sure?” Erik asked wanting her to be certain.

“Yess.” Amiyah stuttered.

Drawing his fingers up to lips he opened his mouth tasting her sweet juices. Erik bit his lip feeling a strong urge to bend her over and eat her from behind. But right now it was about her. He had her body feeling good and he wanted to keep it that way.

After getting his fingers soaked he placed them back in front of her pussy. Taking his time he slowly thrusted both his middle and ring finger in stretching her creamy hole.She was so wet a sloshing sound came from her opening. Her jaw dropped as he filled her up. His thick fingers moving in and out. When he felt the spongy area at the top he swiped back and forth against it using the ‘ come here’ motion.

Her hips doing the same as before began to scoot back away from the sensation. Erik holding her by her waist kept her still.

“Stop runnin and put that pussy on me.” Lips sucking on her neck creating another passion mark as his deep voice muttered.

She was running. From the minute Amiyah felt him tapping on that spot that she didn’t know was there she wanted to escape his hold. His strong hand kept her spread eagle by her knee making her take the pleasure he was giving to her. Feeling her legs shake from his repeated tender abuse she grabbed his hand. Her belly began to tighten and cramp. Soon the vibrations she felt on her lower half traveled throughout her whole body. She was convulsing on his fingers.

“Fuckk.” The profanity spewed out her mouth for the first time as she squirted on the seat.

Erik continued attacking her g-spot before she aggressively pushed his hand away. Laughing he saw her shaking her head while her hands went to her thighs to try and stop them from trembling. Her breast moving up and down from her rough breathing as she finally spoke.

“No more.” Her voice quivered.

Erik’s low chuckled filled the vehicle . “You done mama?”

Quickly nodded her head she cover her pussy with her panties and moved to the other side of the car. She was sensitive and overstimulated. Her body couldn’t endure anymore.

“I can’t Erik. It’s too much.” Sitting on her knees she slapped her hand on her thighs that were still shaking.

“Ight fine I’m done. But come give me a kiss.” His lips smirk satisfied with how the night was ending.

Amiyah complied with his orders. Straddling him again this time not feeling insecure she leaned and gave him a kiss. His mouth dominating hers lips. Erik slapped her left ass cheek leaving a sting. She moaned into his mouth.

“Ouch daddy.” She whined softly as she sucked on his bottom lip lightly before releasing it.

Erik’s dick jumped. “I’ma give you something for that mouth if you keep using it like that.” His eyes studying her lips.

Blushing she laid on top of him. Her head in the crook of his neck. Amiyah closed her eyes when she felt his fingers making traces on her back. They both held each other enjoying the peaceful silence. Wiping the condensation off the window Amiyah peered out noticed that it was dawn. The sky began to turn blue as the sun slowly crept up. She sighed when she realized that she had to work later on that day. Thankfully Kelley agreed to switch shifts with her but she wanted to be with Erik all day.

“I don’t wanna go to work today.” She stressed blowing out air of frustration.

“So don’t. Call out.” Erik rubbing circles on the small of her back.

“I can’t. I switched with Kelley already so I don’t think she would want to do both of our shifts. This is so annoying.” Her nails outlining shapes on his neck.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” He bent down kissing her forehead.

She smiled lifting her head to kiss his lips.

The question she had been meaning to ask him since they first saw each other tonight came to her mind.

“Why’d you call me so late? Is everything okay.”

Erik completely forgot about the previous events that happened hours before. The moment she was in his arms nothing else mattered anymore.

“Yeah, I just found out about some shit and I wanted to take my mind off of it and you helped with that.” He sent her a half smile pinching her chin gently.

Amiyah gleamed knowing she could be his peace whenever he wanted to get away.

“Well I’m here for you always.” Her eyes giving a sparkle as she spoke.

Meditating for a moment before he replied Erik thought carefully. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t doing this to make her some type of rebound but because genuinely cared about her. He didn’t want to take a second longer as the words blurted out of his lips.

“Amiyah I want you to be mines...”

___________________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes.

SN: It’s been years since I wrote a smut scene and all of this was written in an hour and a half so please don’t judge lol.

Tag-list

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @themeirajay @asaani @bellanay @skylahb @toni9

[marjansmarwani]

all the difference in the world 

2.7k || ao3

Carlos and his partner Mya respond to the hostage situation call. --- A 2x05 coda (a.k.a if the writers won’t give Carlos scenes, I will.)

This was mostly written out of spite. Mostly beta’d by @officereyes, but any errors in the part I added after are on me and me alone. 

---------

“I’m just saying, I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the roller derby.” 

“I’m sorry, I had no idea it would be your thing,” Carlos shot back defensively. 

His partner turned to look at him for the briefest of moments with an entirely unimpressed expression, “It’s badass women on roller skates, Reyes. What exactly about that sounds like ‘not my thing’?” 

Carlos rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to invite you next time, Esquilin,” he promised, “as long as you don’t mind hanging out with TK’s crew.” 

“I think the badass women on roller skates can balance out the company of firefighters,” she quipped, shooting Carlos a grin, “probably.” 

He rolled his eyes again, but his retort was interrupted when their radio sounded from the dashboard, “Be advised, all units: Code 3 at 235 Heyward St, unit 3F. Hostage situation, suspect is armed and dangerous.” 

Carlos shot Mya a look and she nodded, flipping on the lights and sirens as she took the next left, bringing them closer to the emergency in progress. 

“Dispatch, this is 363-H-20, responding. ETA 8 minutes,” he announced into the radio before replacing it on the dashboard, a grim set to his mouth as he stared out the window at the houses they sped by. 

“I hate domestic calls,” Mya eventually said into the silence and Carlos nodded grimly. They had both seen calls like this end badly, and he knew they were both desperately hoping to never have to see that again. “Where did they say she was?” 

“Third floor.” He glanced at his partner to see her biting her lip as she considered, “Why?” 

“I’m just trying to figure out how we can possibly get up there without tipping him off. Dispatch said he was armed, we don’t want him spooked. That’s not going to end well for anyone, especially not her.” 

Carlos nodded, trying to focus on the problem rather than the possible disastrous outcomes. He and Mya had responded to a similar call almost two years ago now and that one had not ended happily. It was one of his experiences on the force that had affected him most and one he still thought about from time to time, especially on bad days. But it was also an experience that didn’t help them now. If they wanted to make sure that didn’t happen again he needed to focus on the now. 

Which was all well and good, but he didn’t know they were supposed to get a victim out of a third-floor apartment before they breached without anyone getting caught in a crossfire. They didn’t have the time, resources, or training to scale the building to approach that way. The only way in was the stairs and the door. 

He looked over at Mya who met his gaze with an equally frustrated expression. Clearly, she had not come up with any brilliant ideas either. He sighed and leaned back in his seat. It’s not that he thought he and Mya were incapable of coming up with creative solutions. But after spending so much time about the 126 he had a new standard for “creative,” and honestly he could use some of that insanity he witnessed on a regular basis right now. 

“We just need a way to get her out,” Mya said eventually as they drew closer to their destination, “once she is safe we can handle the guy. I just don’t want to risk her getting caught in a possible crossfire.” 

Carlos nodded and opened his mouth to ask his partner if she had any brilliant ideas to make that happen when he froze, a half-formed thought popping into his head. Without saying a word to Mya he reached for the radio again, switching it on to call dispatch: “Dispatch, are there any available fire units in the area of the Code 3?” 

“The 226 is in the vicinity and available.” 

Carlos glanced over at Mya, who had pulled her eyes off the road long enough to give him a baffled look. He smiled at her before he spoke into the radio again, “Dispatch, can they respond to the address in question and deploy the rescue cushion?” 

He saw the dawning realization on his partner’s face as he waited. She beamed at him even as the voice of the dispatch supervisor sounded over the radio, “Affirmative, 363-H-20. The 226 is en route and will have the rescue cushion deployed in time for your ETA.” 

“10-4 dispatch, we’re about 4 minutes out now.” 

He replaced the radio and turned to look at his partner, who shot him a knowing grin, “Only someone who has spent a little too much time around firefighters could come up with an idea as crazy as that.” 

He scoffed at her, “Crazy enough that it might just work, you mean.” 

She shook her head, still grinning, and Carlos sighed and leaned back in his seat, grin fading. “I hope it does work,” he admitted more somberly. “I don’t want this to be a repeat of…” 

“There’s no point in thinking like that,” Mya interrupted sharply, “that was a long time ago. And there’s no saying this is going to turn out the same way. Not if we have any say in it. We’re already in better shape than we were then. We’re not going to make the same mistakes.”

Carlos nodded tightly and they continued their ride in silence. He knew Mya was right and that they had prepared in every possible way. They had done all they could, but there were still so many variables. There always were. Working with people in crisis was never an exact science and there was always a chance that nothing went according to plan. 

They arrived at the scene and Carlos was out of the vehicle before Mya had even brought it to a complete stop, rushing over to the team unfurling the rescue cushion. The captain looked up as Carlos approached, “We’re just about ready to give the go-ahead,” he called, “we’re all set on our end!”

Carlos nodded gratefully and turned on his heel, meeting Mya’s eyes and jerking his head towards the building. She followed without question, waving for the other officers who had just arrived to follow them. They headed up the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible and Carlos did his best to avoid the creeping feeling of dread. He knew they had done everything they could, but that didn’t stop the fear that it might somehow still end in tragedy.

They had just approached the last flight of stairs when the scream ripped through the air. They froze as one, all waiting to hear the outcome. Carlos was nearly toppled by the relief of hearing the voices of the firefighters drifting up, assuring her that she was safe now. He could feel Mya’s hand on his arm and glanced over his shoulder to give her a quick smile. The victim was safe. From here, it was all simple. 

He gave a nod to the other officers gathered behind him and they resumed their journey upwards, entering the hallway and barreling through the door. The man spun to face them from the railing, a look of shock covering his features. Carlos held his gaze as he ordered him to put his hands up, and he saw the moment he made a decision. Dispatch had mentioned that this was his third strike; he knew there was no happy ending in this for him. 

He lunged for the gun in the same moment that Carlos thrust himself fully into the room, grabbing him before he could achieve his goal, stopping his hands mere millimeters from the gun. He could feel the collective sigh of relief from his fellow officers, as well as his partner’s gaze on the back of his neck. He ignored it, for the moment, as he wrestled the man’s arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs on him as he read him his rights. He stood then, pulling the suspect up with him as Mya stepped further into the room. She glanced over at the two officers behind them before addressing the pair: “We’ll take this loser down and get him to the station, can you two do a quick sweep and make sure all’s good here?” 

They nodded and Mya gave them a quick thanks before taking the suspect from Carlos and guiding him towards the stairs. Carlos gave his own thanks to the other two officers and quickly followed. He could tell his partner had something on her mind, but he also knew she wouldn’t say anything about it until they had the suspect safely secured in the back of their squad car. They descended the stairs in silence before eventually exiting the building back into the parking lot where the 226 was in the process of packing up the rescue cushion and the victim was getting checked out by the paramedics. 

Upon seeing his ex their cuffed suspect made to lunge in her direction but Carlos stepped between them, blocking his line of sight and staring down at him coldly, “Don’t even think about it.” 

He deflated and Mya scoffed as she pulled him in the direction of the squad car, opening the door and guiding him inside without a word. Once the door was closed behind him she turned to face Carlos, eyebrows raised and an unimpressed look on her face, “You wanna talk about what happened up there?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we got the guy.” 

“Yes, we did. After you threw yourself in between him and his gun and our guns too, I might add.”

“Mya…” he began, but she held up her hand to stop him. 

“I’m not trying to scold you, Carlos, especially because I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I’m just asking you to be a little bit more careful, okay? We take enough risks as it is, you really don’t need to go out of your way to create more. I kind of like you as a partner so I would appreciate it if you could manage to not get yourself shot if you don’t mind.” 

“Aw, you do care.” 

“I will deny that in a court of law,” she countered without missing a beat. 

He grinned at her and she sighed before shaking her head and walking back around to the driver’s side. “Just remember I’m not going to be the one to tell your boyfriend you got yourself shot,” she called over her shoulder, “so maybe avoid that if at all possible.” 

He chuckled, but her words also ignited a hint of anxiety in his chest. He had followed his instincts and he didn’t regret it, but now that the adrenaline was gone and he had the advantage of hindsight he could see how badly that could have gone. But he also knew that dwelling on it would accomplish nothing. He had spent a career trusting his instincts and he knew that was the best way to approach this. He knew that trusting himself was the best chance he had. 

That didn’t lessen the risks and the fact that he had so much more to lose now than he ever had before.  

As he opened the passenger door he glanced across the scene to see the woman sitting in the back of the ambulance, talking to another officer who was taking her statement. Her expression of relief was evident even from this distance, and Carlos smiled. This reality was better than any of the anxieties running through his head and he would focus on that. Today had been a win. They didn’t always get those, Carlos knew that all too well. They had to take the successes they could get, and savor those. Focusing on what-ifs never helped anybody. 

Today they had won and the would-be victim had her life back. Today they had managed to get the ex before the worst had happened and that made all the difference in the world. 

--------

Carlos looked up as his front door swung open, a smile spreading across his face when he saw his boyfriend and Paul crossing the threshold. TK met his eyes and matched his smile as he crossed the room towards him, “Hey, babe.” 

Carlos met him at the edge of the counter, pulling him into a kiss that lingered. When they finally pulled apart, he grinned at TK, “Hey yourself.” He looked over TK’s shoulder to Paul, “Hi Paul.” 

“What, no kiss for me Reyes?” 

Carlos rolled his eyes fondly as TK chuckled, setting the grocery bags he had brought on the counter to start unloading them. Carlos grabbed some of the groceries from him, stealing another quick kiss in the process before he glanced between the two firefighters, “No Mateo and Marjan tonight?”

“They’ll be here,” Paul explained, “they’re just handling a situation right now.” 

Carlos raised an eyebrow, “That sounds like a story.” 

“It is,” TK confirmed as he put the last of the groceries into the fridge, closing it behind him, “and we’ll tell you as soon as you tell me what you might know about the 226 having to deploy a rescue cushion under a third-floor balcony at the request of APD.” 

Carlos smiled sheepishly, “You heard about that, huh?” 

“Austin’s a small town, Carlos,” TK reminded him with a sly grin, “and the fire department is even smaller. There’s not much I don’t hear about.”

Carlos looked past TK to Paul who raised an eyebrow, settling onto the couch to watch them, “We’ll tell you ours after you tell us yours.”

Carlos made a face at him before turning back to meet TK’s expectant gaze, “It was nothing major. There was a hostage situation in a third-floor apartment and we just needed to make sure that she was safely out of the line of fire before we went to take down the guy.” 

TK moved closer to him, wrapping his arms around Carlos as he peered up into his eyes, “It sounds pretty major to me. Your idea probably saved her life, Carlos. She’s safe because of you.” 

Carlos shrugged self-consciously, “I wouldn’t say that. Grace did most of the work, figuring it all out and keeping her on the line.”

TK shook his head and removed one of his hands from Carlos’s waist to turn his face so their gazes met, “Grace is brilliant and certainly deserves a lot of credit, but you had a hand in it too babe, don’t sell yourself short.” 

Carlos studied TK’s eyes. They were sincere and full of love; so much it nearly overwhelmed him. His boyfriend meant every word he had said, and he was not about to let Carlos get away with arguing. The amount of faith TK had in him staggered him sometimes. He let himself smile and gave TK a nod. At his nod TK smiled wider, leaning in for another kiss before stepping away. 

Paul chuckled from the couch, “I’ve gotta hand it to you Carlos, that was pretty crafty. It definitely worked but it was also a little crazy. Almost like something a certain someone else I know might have tried.” 

Both Carlos and Paul’s gazes turned to TK, who looked at them indignantly, “What?” he demanded, but Paul just laughed. 

“I think he might be rubbing off on you,” he informed Carlos with a raised eyebrow. 

Carlos huffed a laugh in return but reached out an arm to wind around TK’s shoulders and pull him closer, placing a kiss on the inside of his neck. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but who’s to say that’s a bad thing?” 

Paul rolled his eyes and TK smiled smugly, twisting in Carlos’s grasp to face him, leaning forward to give him another kiss. When he pulled away his expression grew more serious as he studied Carlos’s expression intently. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, “I know how you feel about domestic calls.” 

Carlos pulled him closer again, placing a light kiss on the top of his head, “I’m okay,” he assured him with a certainty that almost surprised him, “really.” 

TK grinned at him and Carlos smiled back, looking up and meeting Paul’s gaze as well and giving him a reassuring nod. Of course he was fine; he had everything he could possibly ever need right here in his arms. He was fine because despite it all today had been a good day, but he also because knew that even if it hadn’t been, he had a second family now and they would catch him should he fall.

[thompsborn]

Can i please get “I know hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay?” With hurt Peter and a really worried Harley 💙💙

(read on ao3)

-

He knows it’s part of the job.

It’s what happens, when someone’s a crime fighting superhero, or an Avenger, or an Avenger in Training, or whatever it is that people want to call it. He knows that the danger comes with it. He’s known for a long time, would be naive to ever try and believe otherwise.

But he’s never been this close to it before.

“Oh god,” Harley says—his voice is shaking almost as badly as his hands are, where he’s got them hovering uselessly. “Oh my god.”

The fight had been close to the tower, is the thing—as in, only a block or two away. When the alarm had gone off in the lab, none of them had been prepared for it, but then Friday had said something including the words, “Green Goblin,” and, “Bombs,” and, “Fire,” and that was all that had mattered, Tony and Peter both suiting up right as Friday tacked on the fact that it seemed to be a team up, that Gobby had apparently brought along some friends.

Harley sometimes thinks about it. Joining them, in a suit that he made a long time ago, that he works on and upgrades as if he’s got plans for what it’ll be for. He thinks about stepping into it and flying off to help them out, but he isn’t ready for it yet. For now, he still works long distance to help out—stays on the comms, gets in contact with first responders, helps use Friday’s scanners and any other tech in the lab to help him get an eye on what’s going on, just to let the team know more, to help out however he can from where he is.

Today, he almost used the suit.

And he would have—if Peter hadn’t been thrown through the window instead.

“We’ve got this,” Tony tells him, sounding out of breath and angry, worry tinging the ends of his words, as he knocks Green Goblin out of the way in order to prevent him from following Peter into the lab through the window. Harley wonders if they really have it at all, but can’t bring himself to ask. “Is Peter alright?”

“I don’t know,” Harley answers honestly, a waver to his tone. The reason he was about to use his own stupid suit is because Gobby’s been targeting Peter the whole fight, like he’s got a personal bone to pick, a grudge to settle. And Peter—the strongest, most capable person Harley has ever met—had stated that he wasn’t going to hurt Gobby, that he wasn’t going to fight back. That he was going to take it.

Well, he took it. He took a lot.

Gingerly, Harley reaches up, peeling Peter’s mask up, up, up, until it’s off completely. He winces at the blood crusted under his crooked nose and dripping from his busted lip, but sighs in relief when bleary brown eyes blink at him. “Hey,” he murmurs. “How’re you feelin’?”

Peter inhales sharply, and lets the air out with a low whine of pain. Harley can’t blame him in the slightest—there’s more rips and tears in his suit now than there are in the shredded remains of his homemade one that he still has, the one that had the Vulture’s metal talons rip through the cloth just to dig into his skin. It would be impressive if it didn’t mean each and every mark on the suit signifies pain underneath.

“Well,” Harley says, a waver to his words but a forced smile on his face. “You look great.”

It makes the airiest of laughs push past Peter’s lips, and he offers Harley a dazed, lopsided little grin. There’s blood on his teeth. “Thanks,” he rasps, wincing slightly. Before Harley can do much more than convulsively swallow back the bile that rises in his throat (his heart coming up with it), Peter suddenly sobers up, and he looks dead serious—not in pain, not dazed, but firm. He reaches forward and grips onto Harley’s shirt, leaves bloody streaks where the glove of his suit has been burned away and the skin beneath has been burned with it, and he says, “Harley, they—they can’t hurt him.”

“Who?” Harley asks, confused.

“Green Goblin,” Peter breathes, shifting his eyes until he’s looking out the window he was thrown through, features strained. “It’s not… I’ve been hiding a lot, about—about that, ‘cause he asked me to and he’s my best friend and—”

Harley furrows his brow. “Wait, wait—what? Back up, Pete. Hiding what? Who asked?”

Peter looks back at Harley, and mixed with the blood and the bruises is a meek sort of guilt. “Harry,” he says. “The Goblin, it—it’s his dad, Harls. It’s Norman. Or, it was, and we—he didn’t want his dad to die like this, but he wanted justice, so we were gathering evidence, everything we could, so we could turn it in and get him arrested, and I wanted—I—I wanted to tell you guys but you know how complicated Harry’s feelings about his dad are and I couldn’t break his trust once he asked me not to and we were so c-close to being able to t-turn him in but then he fuh-found out and—and—”

Harley carefully cups Peter’s face in his hands, being sure to avoid any scrapes and bruises encompassing the skin there. “Breathe, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re still hurt. Don’t push yourself just to tell me this. Take a breath.”

But Peter just shakes his head, sounding urgent as he continues with, “No, you d-don’t—he found out! He—He’s got c-contacts, I don’t know who with, but there’s—there’s a way to control people, and it sounds insane and I know it does but—but—but last week the Goblin showed up, right? And I confronted him but it wasn’t Norman, it was Harry, and he was fighting me and while he was fighting me he said he didn’t want to do it, and—and I don’t know how Norman’s doing it but he’s got Harry under his contol and—and it’s him, Harley! Out there, right now, in that suit that everyone is fighting against—that’s our friend in there, and we… we gotta help him, we have to… we…”

“Peter?” Harley lightly taps his cheek when he sees Peter’s lashes start to flutter, the tension in his body bleeding out, just a bit, leaving him a little bit more limp where he lays on the ground. “Peter,” Harley says again, trying not to let his fear tint his voice too much. “Hey—”

“Tell them,” Peter murmurs, grip on Harley’s shirt starting to go a little weak. “T-Tell ‘em that ‘s ‘arry. Can’t hurt ‘im. You gotta tell ‘em.”

Harley sucks in a shaky breath and tries to compose himself a bit. Knowing Peter as well as he does, it’s not worth insisting reevaluating priorities right now—his stubborn ass boyfriend will deny help until either getting what he’s asked for or falling unconscious, whichever comes first, and with the injuries he has (the ones that Harley can see; who even knows what’s hidden beneath the suit, what bones have been broken and muscles have been torn?) falling unconscious isn’t an option until someone in the Medbay says it’s safe. Because of this, Harley just nods once, reluctantly leaning back a bit in order to address the comms, knowing Friday automatically disconnects and reconnects when it’s clearly necessary. “Guys,” he says into the wave of sound that greets him, overlapping voices and background fighting noise clashing together.

Instantly, the voices go hush. “Harley?” Tony sounds worried already, likely expecting an update on Peter and fearing the worst.

“Goblin,” Harley tells him. “Green Goblin. Peter said—he said it was Norman, and him and Harry were working together to get evidence and get him arrested, but Norman found out. He says that Norman’s got him under some kind of control now, somehow. Like, he’s literally controlling him. Like mind control, I think. The point is, it’s Harry in the suit.”

Sam speaks up, sounding equal parts skeptical and resigned. “Did you say mind control?”

Before Harley can snap at him, Natasha speaks up, telling them all, “Trust me, it’s out there. Unless someone else found a way to do it, I’m assuming this is something left behind from the Red Room—maybe someone found out how she did it, or… I don’t know. I’ll find out how Norman got his hands on it later, but the good news is, as long as it’s the same stuff, I can get my hands on some antidote. He’ll be okay.”

“Fucking antidote?” Sam repeats. “Nat, what the fuck? When did you learn about mind control? What does that have to do with the Red Room? Why do none of us know this?”

Sounding beyond amused, Nat casually says, “Have I mentioned that I have a sister?”

“Oh my god,” Tony murmurs. “Okay, shut up, we can talk about—all of that after this is over. For now—message received, Harley. We’ll try to just knock him down or something so that we can bring him into the tower and have Nat do whatever it is she just said she can do. For now, you worry about Peter. Is he okay?”

Harley looks at Peter, his breath hitching. “Maybe,” he answers. “He refused to let me help him until after I told you guys to not hurt Harry. I’ll keep you updated, though.”

“Sounds like him,” Tony chuckles. “Focus on him and you, don’t worry about updates. Friday can keep me in the loop. You’ve got this, kid.”

The comms disconnect then—Tony’s doing, no doubt, in the hopes of helping Harley from getting distracted by the battle. Harley gets why, but the sudden silence that overcomes the room is startling. For a moment, he freezes.

“Thank you,” Peter breathes, shattering the quiet—and then he promplty blacks out.

“Shit!” Harley leans forward, eyes going wide as his hands, once again, hover uselessly in the air, unsure of what to do. He has to swallow back the lump forming in his throat, and finally settles on checking Peter’s pulse—irregular, and a bit weak, but still there—and trying to wake him up as he asks, “Friday, where’s Doctor Cho? Or—Or Bruce, or fucking Stephen, or—where the hell is an actual doctor?!”

He taps at Peter’s cheek, cautiously shakes his shoulder, not wanting to agitate his wounds or cause any pain, but needing him to wake up. There’s movement behind Peter’s eyelids, but they don’t open, not quite yet. “Doctor Cho is currently at the compound, as well as Mister Banner. They are getting ready to leave for the tower to assist in post battle injuries, but will not arrive for a minimum of thirty six minutes. Contacting Doctor Strange now.”

Okay. That’s something. Harley tries to let himself relax, but it just won’t work—not when Peter is splayed out on the floor in front of him, bleeding and broken and not waking up—

“C’mon, baby,” Harley murmurs, ignoring the waver in his words. “Come on. Wake up.”

It looks pointless—hopeless, almost—but, after a moment, Peter sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes flutter, just a bit. His eyes are glazed over and unfocused, barely even parted at all, but he’s awake and murmuring unintelligible nonsensical sounds that don’t seem to equate into actual words.

Harley breaks out into a grin—one that doesn’t last too long, but the relief is flooding. He moves over his hands until he’s cupping Peter’s face gingerly in his palms. “Hey,” he says, breathes it, really, so much air to his voice that it’s a miracle he’s making any sound at all. “Hey, Pete, look—look at me, honey. Can you look at me? I’m gonna get some help, but until they get here, I need you to try and look at me, okay?”

“Mm.” Peter’s head rolls towards the sound of Harley’s voice, blinks more like little flutters of his lashes as he furrows his brows, mouth twisted up in a pained grimace. “Wh…?”

Progress. Good. “Hi, baby,” Harley whispers, thumbs brushing over the apples of Peter’s cheeks. “You in there? Can you hear me?”

There’s a moment where he gets no response, but, eventually, Peter lifts his chin in a barely noticable nod, and then lowers it to turn his cheek into Harley’s palms. “H’rley?”

“I’m right here, honey. I’ve got you.” Tears burn the backs of Harley’s eyes, well up and threaten to roll down his cheeks. He blinks them away in order to keep his vision clear. “Friday?”

Instantly, Friday responds, telling him, “Still attempting contact with Doctor Strange. I have managed to reach Wong, who has assured me he is getting my message through. Until then, I recommend keeping Mr. Parker awake and trying to slow the bleeding from his abdomen.”

Harley’s gaze flickers down, and he bites back a curse as he notices that Friday’s got a point. While Peter’s enhancements, specifically his healing, makes it possible for him to survive a much larger blood loss than the average person, that doesn’t mean it’s any less worrying to see that there’s a slight puddle beginning to form beneath him. Especially under his midsection, where a large gash across his abdomen is sluggishly yet steadily dripping .

It’s going to suck, putting pressure on a behemoth of an injury like that—Harley has to even out his breathing from just the thought of how much pain it’ll add to the agony Peter is already in—but he has to do it. If he doesn’t, he risks Peter not lasting long enough for Stephen to get here, and Stephen is their only hope.

“Okay,” he mumbles, looking back up at Peter’s pale features, trying for a shaky smile. “Alright, baby, we—we’re gonna have to pull through this next part together, okay? It’s gonna suck, but I’m gonna be right here the whole time.”

Peter looks confused, trying to process Harley’s words and struggling to blink his eyes into focus. “‘Kay,” he slurs out blearily.

Harley reluctantly pulls back his hands, being quick to yank his sweatshirt over his head, balling it up in his grasp and then reaching over with one hand to cup Peter’s face again, the other poised and prepared. “Ready, Pete?”

“Mhm.” It’s clear Peter still isn’t quite sure about what Harley is saying, but he’s agreeing anyway, and—shit, Harley loves him.

Swallowing roughly, Harley nods, just once, and steels his nerves, and presses the hoodie down.

As soon as there’s pressure against the wound, Peter gasps—a horrible, horrible sound, strangled with an agonizing cry, his eyes snapping fully open with clarity shining in them, no longer fogged over and dazed. His back rises off the floor, body instinctively trying to curl in on itself, hands scrabbling to weakly push Harley and the sweatshirt away.

“Hey, hey, hey!” There’s an urgency to Harley’s tone that makes his words come out in a strained sort of rasp. “Peter, honey, you—you gotta calm down, okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I gotta slow the bleeding. It’s okay.”

His words seem to help, or the sudden pain spurred on a rush of adrenaline that’s fading as quickly as it came , or perhaps some combination of the two—Harley isn’t sure what it is, exactly, but Peter collapses back onto the floor with a whimper in the back of his throat. “Harley,” he murmurs—barely coherent, words slurring together. “Harley… ‘m tired.”

His eyelids are fluttering. Harley panics. “No,” he says. “No, no, baby, you—you gotta keep those eyes open for me, alright? I’m so sorry, honey, and I—I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay? Stephen will be here soon, and he’ll fix you up, but you gotta—you—”

Peter’s eyes fall shut. Harley sobs.

“I still need to—t-to tell you that I love you!” Peter’s chest stutters with every every rise, with every fall. “We gotta—we have to finish college, Pete, and—and get an apartment together, and grow up all the way, okay? And one of us still has to propose one day, and—and—and we still need to h-have a wedding, where we make fun of Tony for crying so much, but—but it’s out of love, so it’s okay, and—we could have kids, too, Pete! You have to—you have to make it, ‘cause there’s so much left for us, for—for you, and I can’t—baby, please open your eyes, please—”

A second sob bubbles up from the center of his chest when the only response he gets is another stuttered breath. He tries to remind himself that at least that means Peter is still breathing, just in time for Friday to speak up, softspoken as she says, “My message has officially reached Doctor Strange. ETA should be any second now. Boss has been informed.”

Only a moment later, there’s an orange glow from behind him, but Harley doesn’t look, too busy keeping the pressure steady and firm against Peter’s abdomen with one hand, the other now pressed to Peter’s pulse on his neck to assure himself that his heart is beating—his own breaths uneven and choked off as he cries.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “You did good, Harley,” Stephen tells him gently. “Let me take it from here, alright?”

He doesn’t want to let Peter go, but he knows he has to, if he wants to make sure Peter makes it out of this alive. Body trembling, he pulls his hands away, doesn’t stand up (he isn’t sure if he could, with his legs feeling so weak) but manages to scramble back a few feet to give Stephen enough room. “Is he—is he—?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Stephen assures him, already creating another portal with one hand, using the other to lift Peter off the ground, his Cloak moving over quickly to aid in levitating him. “And I’m good at what I do.”

He leaves with that, disappearing through the portal with Peter—and Harley remains where he is, sitting on the concrete floor of the lab, hands covered in his boyfriend’s blood, sobbing.

Outside, the fight goes on.

In here, the world stops turning.

—

—

—

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, or how much time has passed. He doesn’t know if the fight is over, if they got Harry, is anyone else got hurt. He doesn’t know anything, not for what feels like hours. He just sits, head bowed, face buried in his arms, uncontrollably shaking.

Inside his mind is a jumbled up mess. Part of him can’t stop picturing it—Peter, battered and bleeding out right in front of him. Part of him keeps picturing the future he had been blubbering about, forms images in his head on the two of them at their ESU graduation together, getting the keys for the apartment that they refuse to let Tony help them pay for, maybe bringing in a pet or two, probably alleyway strays that Peter finds on patrol. A ring, not horrendously expensive but still undoubtedly perfect and special, and a wedding, small and wonderful.

Kids. God, he could have kids one day, and Peter could be the guy he has them with.

If Peter makes it out alive.

A shuddering breath wracks his frame, body trembling at the idea of Peter doing anything but. He’s so caught up in all of this, in these two conflicting trains of thought, that he doesn’t hear the door to the lab open, or the footsteps that cautiously approach. It isn’t until a gentle hand settles on his knee that he even realizes he’s no longer alone, and even then, he doesn’t lift his head until he hears a shaky, “Harley?”

It isn’t Tony, or Rhodey, or Sam, or Stephen—it isn’t anyone that Harley would have expected to be the one to come in here right now—but, when Harley looks up, bleary and bloodshot eyes widening a bit, he isn’t all that surprised.

Harry is kneeling in front of his, looking a little bit worse for wear. There’s an abundance of scrapes and bruises scattered about his face, the knuckles on the hand resting on Harley’s knee busted open and an angry looking red. He’s got on the light grey sweatpants and the white cotton shirt that are stocked up in the Med Bay, but the clothes are all rumpled and askew. He looks tired, and heavy, and sad. But, when he sees Harley looking at him, he tries for a smile. “Hey. How you feeling, man?”

“Like shit,” Harley rasps, bring up a hand to scrub at the sticky dried tear tracks on his cheeks, only to freeze just before his hand can come in contact with his face, remembering the smears of dried blood coating his skin. His eyes water at the reminder, but he blinks it away, dropping his hand and clearing his throat. He eyes Harry, frowning. “What about you? Pete… he, uh—he said Norman was controlling you…?”

Huffing out something that’s a bit too hollow and bitter to really be a laugh, Harry nods, looking away with a smile that’s so twisted it looks more like a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “I still don’t really know what it was, or how he did it, but—yeah. Natasha got me free of it, though, and she said, uh—she has a sister, I guess, who went through the whole… mind control, or whatever the hell that was, so she’s gonna get ahold of her and have her—I don’t know, visit, or something? I think Nat just wants me to talk to someone who knows what it feels like. But…”

He trails off, and Harley—Harley sees, suddenly, how stricken and haunted Harry truly looks.

“But I don’t want to talk about it,” he decidedly says a moment later, eyes downcast. “Not yet. Or ever, really. I mean, how do you even try to talk about the fact that your own father just used some kind of mind control to force you into trying to kill your own best friend, right?”

The way that Harley’s stomach twists and turns on itself makes him swallow back bile. “Is he…”

Harry glances back up at Harley, one side of his lips twitching up. “He’ll make it.” The barely there smile fades into a grimace, and he looks back down. “No thanks to me, of course.”

“I…” Harley isn’t sure what he wants to start with—the relief of knowing that Peter is going to pull through, the irrational anger within him that makes him want to blame Harry for it, the logical majority of him knowing that Harry isn’t the one to blame, that Harry has been traumatized by what just happened and is as much a victim as Peter, if not more so. He settles on murmuring, “It’s not your fault.”

“My hands,” Harry counters. “I did it to him.”

Harley shakes his head, reaches out—pauses, when he sees the dried blood flaking off of his skin, but then—settles his hand on Harry’s shoulder anyway. “Your dad did it,” he corrects. “He used you like a puppet, and that isn’t on you. Peter won’t blame you. I don’t, either.”

“You should,” Harry says bitterly. “I mean, Pete wanted us to tell you guys about it all—about my dad being Green Goblin, when we found out, but I—I was so stupid to think we could do it by ourselves, and so selfish, asking him to keep it between us, all because me and my fucking daddy issues decided it was better that way. Look at where it got us. Where it got him.”

“If you had any sort of idea,” Harley starts, “that anything like this could have happened, would you have made the same choices you made?”

Harry looks offended. “Of course not!”

Harley shrugs. “Then I don’t think you’re the bad guy here. Now, before either of us sinks deeper into our own little depressive spirals here, I think—I think I wanna go see him.”

But that’s not it, is it?

“Need to,” he corrects. “I need to see him.”

Though he still looks conflicted, Harry offers him a nod and gets to his feet, hand outstretched to help Harley stand. “Let’s go.”

—

—

—

There’s a lot of bandages, and bruises, and waxy pale skin. Harley falters in the door, taking the sight of it all in, and then steps forward, again, and again, until he’s falling into the chair situation by the head of the bed heavily.

“I, uh…” Harry trails off, still standing in the doorway. It’s hard for Harley to rip his eyes away and look over, but he does when he registers the waver in Harry’s voice, and finds that the guy is staring intently down at the floor with a furrow to his brows. “I can’t—I can’t be in here. I know you’re right, logically, that it isn’t really my fault, but I was—I remember causing… all of this, okay? Even if I wasn’t in control, I still remember, and I don’t think I can—y’know?”

Be in this room, Harley knows is what Harry’s trying to say. He can’t be here and see Peter like this, when he can so vividly remember his hands causing these wounds, control or no control. Harley swallows roughly and nods, just once. “Where are you gonna go, then? Because I don’t think being alone is good for you right now. Like… I don’t know. Call Flash, at least. He’ll rush over to keep you company and make sure you’re okay. I think you might need that.”

Harry’s eyes flicker up, barely glancing over Peter with a flinch before settling his gaze on Harley. “I will,” he assures. “I’ll call him.”

“I’m gonna ask Friday in twenty minutes if you have yet,” Harley warns. “And if you haven’t, I’m gettin’ ahold of him myself. Understood?”

A half hearted partially there smile punctuated by an eye roll. “Yeah, I got it, you mother hen.”

“Good,” Harley says, nodding.

Moments later, Harry is gone.

Harley turns, slowly but surely, to face Peter once again. It causes a pang in his chest, seeing his boyfriend so beaten down, attached to various machines and IV’s, all there to keep him stabilized, but he finds comfort in the rhythmic beeping that signifies every beat of Peter’s heart, reaches out to hold one of his hands in both of his own, careful and gentle and loving.

Because he loves him. Because Peter is everything, and Harley is in love with him.

“When you wake up, I’m gonna tell you,” Harley whispers, thumb lightly stroking over Peter’s bruised knuckles. “And I’m gonna tell you that I’m in this for the long haul, okay? And if you don’t feel the same, or just aren’t ready to say it back, then that’s okay, ‘cause I just wanna make sure you never get hurt like this without knowin’ how much you mean to me. Sound like a plan?”

Peter’s eyes move beneath his eyelids, his chest rising and falling, fingers flexing, just barely, against Harley’s palms.

Harley beams, eyes watering. “Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Definitely a plan.”

[roiscrying]

THE WAY I LOVED YOU - draco malfoy x hufflepuff reader

Inspired by/based on Taylor Swift’s the way i loved you

words: 2.1k

warnings: swearing??

Draco sat crossing his chest as he stared at the other boys in the room. For Muggle studies they had gotten to take a trip into the Muggle world and him, being the only Slytherin boy in the class, was paired up with Cedric and a Hufflepuff in his year who he had yet to bother to learn the name of. He understood the logic, as the Hufflepuffs were annoying, but they didn’t get on his nerves as much as the rest of the houses. That was except for Diggory, “You know Y/N is in the room right next to us” the other Hufflepuff spoke up, Draco shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the girl’s name. Her being of course, the reason he so strongly disliked being put in the same room as Diggory. Who really would want to room with the person their ex moved on from them with, especially when it was not just any ex, it was Y/N.

“Yes and” 

“Would anyone really find out if we used that new spell to-”

“To listen to their conversation?”

“Exactly,”

“Justin I don’t know if that’s the brightest idea” Draco grunted in agreement,

“You just don’t want to hear Y/N talk about Cedric, Malfoy, someone jealous”

“No,” he responded a bit too quickly, “I just don’t want to get in trouble” the boy, Justin scoffed, “fine, do it, but i’m not taking the blame when you two geniuses get caught” he regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth but his pride stopped him from taking them back. With a quick mumble of words a mirror-like object appeared and hovered in the air, giving them access to see and listen to the room next door. you sat along with two other Hufflepuff girls, Susan Bones and Hannah Abott, who also happened to be your two closest friends. Your conversation was uninteresting for the boys for several minutes, discussing trivial topics and cracking inside jokes, so much so that Justin was about to end the spell when Susan piped up, 

“Sooooo, what is it like dating Cedric” all three boys started intently listening. 

~~~~~~~~~

You let out a soft laugh, a gentle blush reaching your cheeks, 

“Well, he is sensible and so incredible-” 

“Uhg I’m so Jealous”  Susan groaned making you laugh again, a bigger smile spreading across your features,

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wanting nothing more than to just slap the growing grin off of Diggory’s face.

“He says everything I need to hear and it's like I couldn't ask for anything better” the girls in the room squealed and a pillow was thrown from Hannah hitting Susan in the face as she spoke up, 

“What was your date like, tell me everythingggg” 

“Well, he opened every door, and he kissed my hand and he said, ‘you look beautiful tonight’ and I felt perfectly fine” you paused taking a deep breath and looking tentatively towards the other girls,

The hesitance apparent in your voice and features caused Draco to sit up slightly, sure it was foolish to think she would miss him, but part of him still had hope that you missed him even half as much as he missed you.  

“Well?” Hannah spoke up,

“What is it Y/N,”

 “Uhg this is going to sound so stupid but if I’m honest, I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain when it's 2 a.m. and I was cursing his name, when I was so so in love that I acted insane, that's the way I loved him” Susan let out a loud gasp which earned her another smack in the face with a pillow by Hannah, 

“What was that” you remarked as soon as the girl had entered the common room and could no longer hear the two. 

“What was what Y/N”

“You know what I am talking about”

“I don’t believe I do” you sighed incredulously, 

“You just told someone that I was obsessed with you and wouldn’t leave you alone?” you scoffed shaking your head, “you are incredible” you spat

“Y/N, you’re being unreasonable, you know why I had to do that”

“Unreasonable Draco?” You laughed bitterly, “Don’t turn this on me Draco,”

“Why are you acting like this Y/N-”

“Why am I acting like this?” you shook your head again, “Do you even realize what you are saying? It’ ‘unreasonable '’ to be mad at my boyfriend for saying that I’m just some girl who is obsessed with you and won't leave you alone? Unbelievable. Actually, very believable. Nothing is ever your fault.”

“Y/N not now-”

“Not now Draco? Am I inconveniencing you?”

“Y/N that’s not what I meant-”

“What did you mean then?” The boy sputtered for answers as you turned on your heel and walked away, you weren't done with the conversation, but you knew he would follow, or at least you hoped he would, some strange part of you wanted to know that he cared enough about you to follow you. 

“Y/N wait” you heard the boy running behind you and you picked up your pace until you reached the quad, immediately taking notice of the pouring rain that seemed to always accompany their arguments,

“I’m so sick and tired of this Draco” Y/N yelled as she turned to look at him, pulling your robes tighter over your body as she felt the rain instantly beginning to soak through your clothes. 

“Y/N please” the boy begged, 

“Draco why can't we be like everyone else, I’m tired of being your little secret”

“Y/N you know why,”

“But I don’t understand! I don’t care what people will say, that doesn’t mean anything!”

“Y/N I know this is new to you, but it's different when-” the words came out harsher than he intended,

“It’s different when what Draco? When you have a reputation to uphold? Draco this is what I mean, if I’m not worth ‘tainting’ your reputation or whatever the hell you think will happen then we shouldn’t be together at all”

“Y/N you don’t mean that”

“But I do. You’re really prioritizing what people think of you over me?” You let out a bitter laugh, “one great boyfriend” you remarked sarcastically, “I’m done with this bullshit, having to act like we’re something we’re not. You need to choose right now, your superficial reputation, or me” your voice had become hoarse from the amount you had been screaming. You felt her heart break as he stayed silent, closing her eyes as you felt tears slip out, “I guess I know your answer then” the sound of the rain was loud enough you didn’t hear him approaching and jumped slightly as you felt him gently take your hands into his, 

“If you think for a second that I wouldn’t pick you-” the boy paused, “You are the best thing that's ever happened to me Y/N,”

“Then prove it,” you whispered and in an instant his hands were around her body closing the space between them and pressing his lips against hers. Your eyes stayed shut as you smiled softly returning the kiss only pulling away when your lungs burned and you needed to take a breath, “No more hiding?”

“No baby, all of Hogwarts will know you’re mine baby girl”

Draco let a small smirk appear on his face at your remark, raising an eyebrow at Cedric who had turned to the boy. His face had obviously dropped from it’s previous smirk. 

“Shut it Susie-” With that the girls were silent again, now both listening intently to you pour your heart out,

“Uhg I’m so lost because Cedric, he respects my space and never makes me wait and he calls exactly when he says he will. He's close to my mother, and talks business with my father. He's charming and endearing and I'm comfortable”

“Butttt”

“Even breakin' down and coming undone, it was a roller-coaster kinda rush,” you let out another sigh  “And I, I never knew I could feel that much, but that's the way I loved him” you jumped up so you were standing on your bed, leaning dramatically against the wall behind you, “It’s not that Cedric isn’t amazing and everything a girl could ever want, but it's just,” you sighed looking down at the girls who had moved to sit on the edge of your bed, “He can't see the smile I'm faking.”

“Oh Y/N,” Hannah spoke up sympathetically,

“But my heart's not breaking 'cause I'm not feeling anything at all. Draco was wild and crazy, just so frustrating,” you groaned flopping back down, your tone more wistful when you spoke up again , “intoxicating, complicated, he got away by some mistake” she trailed off 

Over the past few days since the winter break ended Draco had been super distant, constantly avoiding you or making up excuses not to talk to you. It had been a few days by the time you finally were able to catch him alone. He was hunched over with his head in his hands in a corner of the library. You had just sat down when her eyes flicked over his arm and noticed something, you danced around the issue trying to make small talk with him but finally fed up with his short dismissive answers you decided just to address it,

“What is that Draco,” you snapped. You knew very well what it was, but nothing in you wanted to believe it was true. 

“I-I,”

“I thought you were different Draco,” 

“I-I, I had no choice”

“Bullshit” the words left your mouth before you could stop it, the feeling of betrayal too clear in your mind to let you think straight, “wasn’t it you who told me even in the most dire situations you always have a choice”

“Y/N I didn’t mean this”

“I really believed you Draco, I thought you loved me, you were using me weren’t you,”

“Y/N I was not, I never lied about anything I-”

“Oh really,”

“I never lied about my feelings for you Y/N, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me”

“You really expect me to believe you Draco? When you have a dark mark on your arm”

“Y/N please” his voice broke. His words were true, he had no choice, and he cared more about you than anyone else in his life, he would do anything for you. But you wouldn’t listen to him,

“I don’t want to hear it Draco, we’re done” you said plainly, trying to ignore everything in your heart telling you to hear him out, to comfort him, to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

You made a mistake, you knew it, but then there was Cedric, a sweet boy in your house who was nothing but kind towards you, he was perfect, but that was the problem. He was too perfect, you didn’t have the same fire and chemistry that came so easily with you and Draco, the conversations never flowed as smoothly, the kisses weren’t as passionate, you didn’t want to admit it, but he just was missing something, he wasn’t Draco. You had envisioned a life with Draco, you could see yourself walking down the aisle to him, there was something missing from Cedric where you could never let yourself daydream to that point. He was nice, a good guy but there was something missing. 

Draco was broken after you broke up with him, he felt as if a piece of himself was missing, something he hadn’t realized he needed until you were there, and something he realized he hadn’t appreciated enough when you were there. 

“And now, I miss our screaming and fighting and kisses in the rain when it's 2 a.m. and I was cursing his name, when I was so so in love that I acted insane, because that's the way I loved him” 

“Breakin' down and coming undone,” Hannah spoke up earning a nod from you,

“It's that roller-coaster kinda rush,”

“I never knew I could feel that much, but that's the way I loved him”

“You should tell him,”

“He probably hates me now, I can’t believe I let myself-”

“You were shocked Y/N,”

“I just, Cedric is an amazing guy, he’s everything anyone could ever need, but he’s not what I want, or who.”

Cedric let out a heavy sigh and looked back towards Draco. He sat frozen, eyes showing some sort of disbelief and longing, as much as he hated it, he knew what had to be done. 

“I think I’m going to break up with him” your voice spoke freezing everyone in both rooms, “I can’t keep leading him on like this, I don’t want to use him,”

[collecting-stories]

Birthday - c. 13 - Georgia

Summary: Just a whole lot of feelings.

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post when I said I was going to, thank you guys for your patience though! Also, if you haven’t seen it, there’s a link on my page to help raise money for a friend of mine to get bottom surgery, if you wouldn’t mind taking a look and considering donating or reblogging to get out the word. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Not who I expected to see waiting outside the pharmacy for me but, I’ll take it.” Tara called out as she walked across the small parking lot to her car. Parked right next to her four-door was Daryl’s truck and he was standing there waiting, leaning against the tailgate.  

“I haven’t heard from her in a couple days, just wanted to be sure she’s alright.” Daryl replied.  

“You mean after you told her you didn’t want to date her?” Tara asked, crossing her arms over her chest.  

“Ain’t that simple.”  

Tara groaned, already exhausted with both of you. “It is that simple, she really likes you and come on, I know you like her. You fucking stopped at the drug store to talk to me because you’re concerned about her. That’s pretty solid proof that you like her too.”  

Daryl looked away, scuffing his foot on the ground and taking his pack of cigarettes out to smoke, he needed something distract himself.  

“Can I have one?” Tara asked, already holding out her hand for one of his cigarettes. Her sister would probably kill her if she knew but Tara smoked occasionally, more recreational than anything else. “She’s staying at my house in Woodbury. Her dad’s supposed to be home soon, think she’s just waiting it out away from her mom.”  

“He any better?” Daryl asked lighting his and then holding the lighter for her cigarette. You’d be bitching about the smell no doubt, or pretending it didn’t bother you.  

“Not really,” Tara shrugged, “he doesn’t hit her or anything but he’s pretty dependent on her mom. I mean, the guy’s been in and out of rehab for years now, he can barely hold a steady job. Last time he was in the hospital he was on suicide watch cause he’s so miserable. Why are you asking me all this anyway? Why not ask Maggie?”

“Some friends ya don’t tell everything to.” He replied. “Ya let me know how she’s doing?”  

“Go to the diner and make up and see her yourself.”

“I already told her, she’s got enough shit going on, don’t need me adding to it.” Daryl replied.  

“Before you go,” Tara stopped him as he started to walk around to the driver’s side of the truck. “Just tell me, do you like her? Would you date her?”

He nodded, slowly. Not like he was unsure, just like he was trying to censor his answer. He settled on “yeah” because anything else would have been too much to tell kid. He would date you, hell, he was pretty sure that he would marry you if he was given the chance. He’d never thought much about liking anyone before. Daryl had seen Merle with different women his whole life but he’d never really bothered appreciating any of his own. People just came and went and he figured that was exactly how life would always be. And now there was you and he wouldn’t mind setting up a future, he’d already laid one out in his head. A nice one, like all the upstanding people in King County, the ones who whispered about him, had. There’d be a house, or a farm like Hershel’s, and kids if you wanted them though he’d never thought of himself as needing to bring any children into the world. It’d be nice though and you’d both be happy.  

“Don’t tell her I stopped by?” Daryl asked.  

“I won’t.” Tara replied, “think about it though? Cause she was happy with you and she was standing up for herself and she never used to. I don’t want her to lose that.”  

Daryl shut the door on the truck and Tara backed away as he started the engine, reversing and then peeling out of the parking lot. She took another drag of the cigarette and dropped it on the ground, smashing it into the white line with her shoe.  

You were working at the diner that afternoon and when you saw Daryl’s truck pull into Dale’s Autobody across the street you considered taking a ten minute break just to go talk to him. If you could figure out what was going on between the two of you, or even just apologize for what you said in the grocery store. You would’ve killed for a time machine that night, imagining the possibility of rewinding yourself back to the moment before you told him, of being able to pretend you didn’t feel the way you were feeling.  

If you could’ve done it over again you wouldn’t have said anything. Kept quiet until, and you hoped there was a possibility, he liked you so much that he couldn’t possibly reject you. And yet, you knew it was pointless to think that way. Standing in the parking lot with him, you had known that the only thing you wanted in that moment was him.  

-

Maggie sat on the top rung of the wooden fence with you, lanterns set out to illuminate the make shift camp site that she and Tara had put together for your birthday.  Glenn had come once it was dark enough that no one from the house would realize that he was there. You were usually wired, especially considering the amount of alcohol that Glenn and Tara had both brought with them. You had half a bottle of wine left, holding the nose in your hand as you sat there with Maggie, silently staring ahead to the porch light that looked more like a lightening bug at this distance.

“Glenn’s been talking about college,” Maggie finally said. Tara and Glenn had both punched out early but you and Maggie couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Or maybe she was just sitting up with you to be nice. “It’ll be nice to get away from all this. Have you talked about it with your parents?”

“My mom says the college fund is,” you sliced your hand across the air, “gone. Guess it’s waiting tables for me.”

“Woodbury has a college, maybe you could go there?”

“It’s not Emory...” you replied. “I don’t know any more honestly. I just wanted to go to college cause I wanted to get out of here. Guess I still do.”  

You had thousands of dreams of college as a kid. Getting out of King County and never coming back. You could be one of those kids who moves to the city without leaving a forwarding address, who disappears from the average existence of small-town life. Breaking whatever mold, you had been born into. It always seemed like it would be you, Maggie had the farm and she complained about the church but you knew she loved it. But now she was talking about life outside of King County and it seemed insane to you that you would be the only one contemplating all the things in your life that you thought about changing. Maybe some of them could stay the same.  

“I told Daryl I liked him.” You said, “told him I was gonna be 18, we could date.”

“What’d he say?” Maggie asked, reaching for the wine bottle to take a sip.

“Same thing he’s been saying, that I shouldn’t ‘get dragged into his life’.”  

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.” Maggie sounded too hopeful for her own good. And why shouldn’t she? Even if she thought about leaving King County everything about her screamed small town. The high school sweetheart, the southern twang, the pastor’s daughter dichotomy. She hit all the marks.  

“Means he doesn’t want to.” You replied, taking the wine back.

“Well take it however you want but, maybe it’s a sign? You been getting too close to something dangerous. I love you and you know that but you were spending all your time with him, not going to church, not doing stuff with me or Glenn or going to youth group. Maybe it’s a good wake up call. Your mama wouldn’t want you tossing it all away for a boy. Especially not Daryl.” Maggie stated.  

You knew somewhere along the way you had given up trying to keep up appearances. You weren’t the sweet kid who had sat all through Thanksgiving and then snuck out at the end, something had changed and you had stopped caring if people knew who you were hanging out with. Deanna had only seen you because you’d gotten too reckless.  

“Guess so.” You said, hopping down off the fence. You had never told Maggie about your mom and you certainly couldn’t now. You weren’t even sure that she would believe you.  

“What?”  

“What?” You asked, eyes meeting hers in the dark.  

“You got that look, like you did before you dragged me to Dale’s.” Maggie said, watching the slow smile on your face as you bit your lip.  

“Just thinking.”

She was right though, and you knew it. Even as you climbed into the tent you were sharing with Tara, laying on your back as if you could see the stars through the vinyl, your head was swirling with any sort of idea you could grasp at. Maggie could say whatever about you and what you cared about but at the end of it you knew what you wanted. Her pep talk wasn’t going to deter you.  

-

In the morning you stopped at Dale’s, church bells ringing as you got out of your jeep. You were supposed to be meeting your mom for service but you had pit stopped here. Axel was out front working on a car and he waved when he saw you. Daryl wasn’t overly forthcoming with information about his life so it didn’t surprise you that he would’ve neglected to tell anyone about the night at the grocery store.  

He was in the back, maybe just finished with something cause he was wiping his hands on a rag from the back pocket of his coveralls and you weren’t quite ready for the ache in your chest at the sight of him. Your heals on the concrete weren’t quiet and Daryl looked over when he heard them, jaw tensing.  

“What’re ya doing here?” He asked.  

“I thought about what you said.” You replied, a little less confident than you had felt when you stepped out of your car. “And I’ve come to a decision.”

“Am I supposed ta ask what that is?”  

“Yes.” You moved closer, he wasn’t running but he looked a little reminiscent of a caged animal.

“I got work.”  

“Wait, just hear me out,” you begged. He started to say something, no doubt telling you to leave, but you stopped him, forging ahead. “I know I told you that I liked you when we were at the grocery store but it’s more than that. I love you. And I think you love me too. I’ve been thinking about leaving King County and getting away from my mom for a long time and lately I been thinking I don’t care. There’s still some things I want, ya know, but I can get ‘em right here and mostly, I just want to spend time with you.”

There was a lot Daryl wanted to tell you, that you were right. He did love you. “Ya don’t know what yer saying.”

“I do.”

“No,” Daryl snapped. “Ya don’t! There ain’t a future here for ya. Yer wasting yer time and one day, you’ll wake up and yer gonna realize that’s all ya been doing, wasting time, and yer gonna want out. Save yerself the trouble and just go.”  

“I’m not wasting my time.” You insisted.  

“I got work.”  

“No, Daryl,” you grabbed his arm, stopping him from turning and leaving.  

“I told ya before, I’ll say it again, there ain’t nothing here for ya.” He replied, pulling away from you.  

“Fine then tell me I’m wrong.” You said, “tell me you don’t love me and I’ve just been imagining it.”

“I got work.” He repeated, brushing passed you.  

You knew what you should’ve been feeling. Depressed, angry, absolutely gutted. All of those fit the bill but you couldn’t make yourself feel any of those. As you climbed back in your jeep, pulling out of the parking lot, all you could feel was the smallest, fleeting, sense of hope. He hadn’t said that he didn’t love you. Nothing he said suggested that he didn’t feel the same way. You’d been thinking that he just didn’t like you back but it wasn’t that at all. He was just afraid.  

You knew how you felt. And now, you knew how he felt too.  

-

taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily  @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope  @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here 

[intoanothermind]

Idyllic - Enoch O’Connor

Word Count: 11.3k words

– Enoch O’Connor x reader

Synopsis: Is it possible to fall in love through stories? Well, it happened to me. I fell in love with the stories that my grandmother told me.

Masterlist

(Okay, maybe I got a bit too excited writing this. But it was worth it, I liked the result, even if first I was going to make a whole fanfic out of this idea. And I based it off the movie as I still haven’t read the books. AU where Jacob was never followed by Barron.)

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I analysed the sepia photograph that almost shattered in my hands. It was old and worn out - from the time and the number of times it has been handled. The photo represented a small cave that seemed to be forgotten by everyone. The passage to the time that permeated most of my grandmother's teenage stories. I lowered the photo, seeing that I was directly in front of that same cave, on the small Welsh island of Cairnholm. I put the photograph in the pocket of my torn jeans and took a deep breath, trying to ignore how shaky my hands were. This was the moment I had been waiting for years, since my grandmother started telling me stories about this loop and I fell in love. I took a deep breath, knowing that this moment would change my life and I would not go back to my time again. I was prepared to leave everything I knew behind, with the proper farewells already made.

I squeezed the strap of the backpack that held some of my belongings and entered the cave. I could tell when I entered 1943. The air changed around me, becoming more dense before quieting. The sounds became calmer and my breathing heavier despite being in less polluted air - but I could blame the emotions. When I returned to the beach, the sky was no longer terribly cloudy. Instead, blue was prevalent, with only a few clouds. I smiled, because that meant I had done it. I followed the beach along the path I had taken the day before, when I visited the wreckage of the orphanage. It hadn’t been a pleasant visit. Even knowing the loops existed and how all the children were saved, seeing the place in pieces was heartbreaking. No wonder Grandma never returned to that place. But as I retraced my journey - familiar and at the same time unsettlingly different - I was trying to control my emotions. I didn't know how everyone would react to my presence. Grandma was still in correspondence with Miss Peregrine, but I didn't know the extent of their knowledge about me. Much less if they knew I was coming and whether they would be receptive to my arrival or not.

I started to hyperventilate when imagining the possibility of not being accepted, by everyone and by a peculiar one in particular. I stopped where I was, a few feet from crossing the small stream before the trees that hid the orphanage, and tried to take a deep breath. Even though there was a chance I wouldn’t be accepted, I had no other choice. Grandma was already getting old to protect me alone from the Hollows and I had no choice but to head to one of the loops around the world marked on the map Grandma gave me - and of course my obvious choice would be the one where my grandmother spent almost a decade living. When I felt calmer, I continued my walk. Seeing the big house - with reddish bricks and flowers growing through the structure - that housed Grandma's best childhood friends, I couldn't help the smile forming on my lips. The first to see me was a small, blond little girl in a pink dress that swayed around her body as she ran towards me.

“Eloise! You came back!”

My heart sank and the smile was gone.

“I ... I'm not Eloise. I'm her granddaughter, Y/N.” I replied. She stopped in front of me, studying my face.

She looked a little sad, but soon opened a big smile. “You look a lot like her. I'm Claire. Come, you have to meet everyone! They will be very happy!”

She started pulling me by the arm and, as much as I was eager to get to know everyone - even though I already knew from the stories I heard all my life - there was something I needed to do before.

“I would really love to, but I think I need to speak to Miss Peregrine first. Can you take me to her? Then you can introduce me to everyone.”

“Of course! Let's go!

Claire took me to the door. Every few meters that we walked, some new child turned to see who Claire was guiding so excitingly. Whispers and murmurs after a few seconds of silence. My arrival left the other children in an uproar. Wide eyes and surprised faces, they started whispering to each other, but none approached as Claire led me to the door. Perhaps because of my resemblance to my grandmother or the current clothes I wore. I looked among the children who were watching me, but the face I was looking for, however, was not among them.

“Miss Peregrine!” exclaimed Claire, entering the house with me.

As soon as we passed the bluish door, I looked around in wonder. Everything was so clear and clean. The staircase in front of me was complete, as were the side doors and the corridor hidden under the stairs on the right. So different from the orphanage that I visited back in 2019, the day before. That orphanage was destroyed, the wreckage left by the German bombing more than half a century before, still lying there.

“Y/N!

I looked at the person who called me and instantly recognized Alma Peregrine from the pictures Grandma showed me. Thin face and short hair with bluish threads. Blue eyes wide with a gleam of insanity, anxiety and wisdom. I smiled when I saw her approaching me with two cups in hand.

“Just in time, dear.” She said, handing me one of the cups. The smell that rose made me realize it was mint tea. “Claire, you can go play with the others. I'll take Y/N to meet everyone in a moment.” she told the blonde girl who still held my hand.

“But, Miss Peregrine...” Claire started to mumble, but the woman gave her a steady look that made her release my hand and jump happily back out.

“My name is Alma Peregrine, but I imagine I already knew that information.”

I smiled, nodding and accepting the handshake. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Peregrine.”

“The pleasure is mine, dear. Eloise talked a lot about you and warned us of your arrival.” She put a hand on my shoulder and guided me down the hall under the stairs, but stopped before we entered. “Leave your bag by the stairs, you can take it to your room later.”

I did as she asked and we headed down the hall, then into the kitchen and finally out into the courtyard. It was large, with grass, trees and shrubs pruned in various shapes - I could recognize an elephant, a centaur with a bow and arrow stretched out and a dinosaur farther down, near a football goalpost, where two boys played. One had bees around him and the other, well, I could just make out the clothes. Hugh and Millard. A blond boy was sitting under the dinosaur-shaped bush, shouting penalties at both of them while sharing his attention with a book. Beside him was a girl with brown braided hair and a few freckles watching the two boys play. Horace and Fiona.

Before we approached the presentations, however, I remembered something important.

“Oh, Miss Peregrine.” I said after taking another sip of tea. I reached for my jeans pocket by the folded letter and handed it to him under a curious look. “Grandma asked me to give it to you as soon as I arrived. You’ll have her new address, some new information before she forgot and… let's say attempts to keep in touch while you can.”

Alma Peregrine looked up at my face and I immediately recognized the look of pity and anguish that I so wanted to avoid.

“I'm sorry for your family, Y/N. And for Eloise too.”

I broke into a forced smile.

“It's all right. My parents' death happened many years ago, it isn’t something that bothers me very much.” I said and, on the one hand, I wasn’t lying. I was only eight when the Hollows killed them trying to get to me and my grandmother. Since then, Grandma and I haven't settled in one place for a long time and she was always with me, taking care of me. Until she thought it was appropriate for me to go on a loop because Alzheimer was advancing little by little. “And about Grandma... Well... We both knew that day was coming and she prepared me for it.”

“Still” Peregrine said, putting the letter in her dress pocket and hugging my shoulders “, I'm sorry.”

I nodded. “Only you and I have her new address. She wanted me to correspond with her while the disease is not yet very advanced and she can still remember.”

“Of course!” Peregrine stated. I sighed, relieved. I knew that someone other than her corresponding to the outside of the loop could be dangerous and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to have contact with Grandma. “As long as possible, you can send letters to her and I will help you with that.”

“Thank you, Miss Peregrine.”

She smiled warmly at me, before being distracted by someone calling her name. I followed his gaze and saw Claire approaching again, this time with a girl about her size, with brown curls dangling around her face. I smiled as I recognized Bronwyn and right behind them the twins dressed in white clothes from head to toe.

“Y/N, you already knew Claire” Peregrine started the presentations. “and this is Bronwyn and the twins.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I said, smiling at the children in front of me.

The twins jumped a little, looking excited, but Bronwyn stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my legs. She lifted me up and I had to hold on to her shoulders to keep from falling when she lifted me off the floor.

“I'm very happy to meet Eloise's granddaughter, she was always sending photos of you.”

“Bronwyn, put her on the floor!” Miss Peregrine hurried to say, but I could only laugh.

“It's quite alright.” I assured. “It's really nice to meet Grandma's friends too, Bronwyn, she talked a lot about you.”

She giggled as she put me back on the floor and let out a “it'll be great to have you live with us” before running with Claire and the twins into the house. I looked at Peregrine, a little confused.

“The children knew that when you came it was to stay, Eloise always warned us of this, although not everyone believed that you would really come.” she paused and I wondered if she knew I could guess who she was referring to. “Claire must have spread it to everyone that you were here.”

We went further into the courtyard, approaching Horace and Fiona, who soon got up when they saw us.

“These are Horace and Fiona.” said Miss Peregrine. “Fiona, it's almost time.”

Fiona smiled broadly and waved at me before running towards the front of the house, to the garden there, while Horace watched my clothes curiously.

“This is an interesting attire.”

I lowered my head, examining my clothes. Half-worn jeans, a white T-shirt and a denim jacket on top, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. On my feet I had a pair of black mid-high all stars. Ordinary clothing, at least for the year I came from. I opened my eyes wide when I realized that I would have to adapt to the 1943 dress. Which meant I couldn't wear pants, let alone jeans.

“Miss Peregrine, will I not be able to wear my clothes?” I asked, almost getting desperate. I wasn’t at all comfortable in skirts and dresses.

Peregrine sighed, half defeated. I was sure Grandma must have had some discussions about it with her in the letters.

“It wouldn’t be ideal, but if you only use them inside the house, where no one but us would see it... I think we can work out a deal.” She said, taking me farther in the yard, passing the boys playing. “These are Hugh and Millard.” they waved at me, but continued the game. Well, Hugh waved and Millard must have touched his hat, which moved a little in the air. “And this is Jacob and Emma.”

I turned my head at the sound of the strange name. Emma was easy to recognize from Grandma's photographs. Blonde and very beautiful. She was barefoot and tied to a rope, floating back to the floor. On the other side of the rope was a tall, thin boy with black hair and blue eyes. Beside him were Emma's heavy shoes. But as I looked more closely, I realized that the boy was familiar to me. Not from Grandma's pictures, because I never heard a story that included any Jacob, but I recognized him. I had to hold the cup with both hands in order not to drop it on the floor due to the fright.

“Jake?!”

He turned so fast and startled that if Emma hadn't already been putting herself back in her shoes she would have flown away.

“Y/N?!” He seemed as surprised to recognize me as I was.

“Do you know each other?” asked Peregrine, frowning.

I blinked a few times to dispel the astonishment.

“Yes, we... We studied together in Florida for a few months before Grandma moved us.” I answered.

“My God, Y/N, it's you!” Jake hugged me quickly, before returning to Emma's side. “You look so different, older!”

“Well, it is 2019 on the outside, Jake, I think I aged a little bit more than you.” we laugh, including Emma.

“You must be Y/N, Eloise's granddaughter. I'm Emma, nice to meet you.” She said sympathetically, shaking my hand with a smile.

“Wait, is Eloise your grandmother? Eloise who left with my grandfather from the loop?”

I looked sideways at Emma when I heard Jacob's words, but she looked fine, smiling with Jacob's hand clasped in hers. I think there were some updates from the peculiar kids that Grandma didn't let me in on.

“So Abe is your grandfather.” I said, finally understanding why Jacob was there. “I don't think we found out before because I never saw your grandfather with you.”

“So you met him?” He frowned, confused.

I nodded. “Yes, Grandma took me a couple of times to see him, but when he was alone. He said he didn't want his grandson to know about the peculiars before he was 18. I'm really sorry for your grandfather.”

Jacob nodded, a little ruefully.

“Well, I see that you have a lot to talk about.” said Miss Peregrine. “I'll leave them then while I prepare dinner. Emma, take Y/N to her room later and lend some dress while we don't fix her wardrobe.”

“Has she met everyone?” she asked.

Miss Peregrine gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher and, by her next words, I wondered how much she knew me from the letters exchanged with Grandma.

“Y/N can meet Olive and Enoch at dinner.”

She took my cup of tea, which by now was cold, and went back into the house alone, leaving me with Emma and Jacob.

“So this means I'm now older than you?” I asked, hoping to break the silence.

And it worked, for Emma's laugh and Jacob's eyes roll.

“Only in appearance, Y/N, only in appearance.”

“Still, I'm 19 and you are 16.” I laughed with Emma when I saw Jacob's exasperated expression. “What is your peculiarity? It shouldn't be too obvious, since I didn't realize it when we were at school.”

Jacob scratched the back of his neck, a little uncomfortably.

“It's the same as my grandfather's, I can see the Hollows.”

After a few seconds of tense silence, I finally said something.

“Wow, that would have been so useful and easier than binoculars.”

“ Binoculars?” asked Emma.

I nodded. “A few years ago, Grandma, Abe and I created out of Grandma's peculiarity a type of binoculars to make visible what is invisible. So you can see the Hollows and even Millard if you want. We tried to recreate it to send another one to Miss Peregrine, but we couldn't.”

“And where is it now?” Jacob asked.

I swallowed hard and tried to respond as naturally as possible.

“With grandma. She would need it out there more than I do in here.”

Their faces became a little sad, but Emma soon changed the subject.

“And do you have the same peculiarity as Eloise? Artistic reality?”

“Yes and no.” I broke into a small smile when I saw their confused faces. “Grandma could give life to her paintings, but she was limited to canvas and paint. I just need a place to draw and a pen or pencil.”

“This is so cool, I would love for you to demonstrate!” Emma exclaimed, looking cheerful. “But dinner starts in a few minutes and we need to get you a dress.”

I think it was easy to see how I felt about dresses in my horrified expression, because Jacob started to laugh. Emma barely cared, holding my hand and leading me back to the house. Jacob came after us both, still laughing at my reluctance. But I knew there was no escape. We entered through the back door and passed the kitchen, where Peregrine was already busy with dinner. Jacob stayed behind to help her place the table in the dining room. When we returned to the foyer, I only had time to grab the strap of my backpack quickly before being pulled by Emma toward the marble stairs, covered in a dark red carpet.

After we passed the two flights of stairs, I found myself facing a half-dark corridor full of doors and a window at one end. Emma guided me to one of the doors to the left of the stairs. But I froze before following her into the room. I heard two voices coming from one of the rooms on the right side of the stairs, along with some strange noises, like scissors and clicks. I widened my eyes when I remembered that in the destroyed orphanage I saw in 2019, that room was the one with the bookcase full of broken jars. Enoch?

“Y/N?”

I turned to Emma, eyes wide and cheeks burning.

“Yes?” My voice came out squeaky and I was sure Emma noticed.

She raised her eyebrow, a little cynically, but said nothing. She just entered the room again, and this time, I followed.

“This is my room.” She said, going to the old wardrobe. Well, old for me. “Your room will be at the end of the hall, I'll take you there to change. But first, let's find a dress for you.”

I mumbled a little "okay" to her and watched as she went through her things. Emma took a small look at my shoes and pulled out a simple light blue dress, cut similar to the baby pink she was wearing, from inside the wardrobe.

“I think this dress here will look better on you with your... modern shoes.”

I giggled at her hesitation, but accepted the dress. Emma smiled and led me back into the hall. We passed the stairs and through the room that I had heard the voices before. We stopped in front of a room two doors down from that. After she said it would be my room from now on, she left me alone to change and get down in ten minutes. I looked around me. A simple single bed, an old wardrobe, a medium size mirror hanging next to the door and a simple table with a chair and a lamp under the window that faced the orphanage and the vegetable garden. The room was simple, but it looked cozy and I smiled. That would be my room for the next few decades and I wish I could make it my own corner. I left my backpack by the bed, knowing I could unpack later. I didn't bring much more than clothes and personal items in it, I knew that no electronic device would work there. Although I brought at least my cell phone and my polaroid camera. I knew I could design some kind of adapter for the plug and more paper for the photos.

I changed my clothes quickly, leaving my shirt and jeans folded on the bed. When I put on the dress, a little reluctantly, I went to the mirror. I was surprised to find that I was beautiful with it, despite some discomfort when using it. And Emma was right, it didn't look so bad with my black all star. I didn't want to be too late, so I just fixed my short curls and left the room towards the stairs. When I got to the hall, I realized that I had no idea where the dining room was. I heard the chirping voices of the children and followed one of the doors on the sides of the hall. The dining room was well lit and decorated. There was a large table in the middle, full of food and where everyone was already seated, except Miss Peregrine, who was standing at one end. There was an empty seat on his right side and soon after Emma, Jake, Bronwyn, Horace and Fiona, with Claire, Millard, Hugh, Olive and the twins on their other side. I looked at the other end of the table, at the boy I had been looking forward to meeting since I knew I was coming to the orphanage.

They must have heard it when I opened the door, because everyone turned to me. I smiled, a little embarrassed by the attention, but it widened when Enoch's dark eyes met mine.

“Eloise?!”

My smile closed slightly when he stood up abruptly, looking at me with a kind of horrified expression. I knew I wouldn't have a very good reception from him, but I think I was still hopeful that it would be different.

“Now, Enoch, of course not! It's Y/N!” exclaimed Millard, looking delighted that I joined them.

“Of course, you and Olive haven't been introduced to her yet.” said Miss Peregrine, holding out her arm for me to approach. “This is Y/N, Eloise's granddaughter. We've talked about it, kids, Y/N will be joining the orphanage from now on.”

I smiled when I realized that Olive and the others seemed to give me warm, welcoming smiles when I sat down next to Peregrine. But not Enoch. He was still looking at me with a dark and unreadable expression. He wasn't happy that I was there, but I couldn't figure out what else my arrival was doing to him. I didn't have much time to find out, as he soon turned and ran out of the dining room, with the children screaming for him.

“Okay, kids, we can have dinner today without him.” said Miss Peregrine.

Some children looked surprised. I don't think it was very common to have a meal with someone missing. But it seemed that everyone knew the reason behind it, from the effort they made to not mention it during the entire dinner. Other than that, however, the dinner was very lively. I avoided saying anything unless a question was addressed directly to me. Which means that I talked almost all the time that I wasn't chewing. Where were you born? How's Eloise? Why did you come? What do you think about meeting your grandmother's friends? Where have you two travelled before? Is it true that you already knew Jake?

It wasn’t so uncomfortable to answer the questions. Everyone there already seemed to know about Grandma's situation and why I would come here at some point. So even with the heaviest responses, the mood was not tense. When everyone was done, a phone rang in the background and everyone fell silent. I was a little confused, since I didn't remember Grandma talking about a phone call they received that September 3, 1943 in whatever story she told.

“Well, we will have to answer it.” said Miss Peregrine. “Emma, why don't you go ahead and answer it? Children, go with her and soon I will go. Y/N, wait a minute, please.”

As everyone went out into the hall, Peregrine took the empty plate that was in Enoch's place and began to fill it with the leftover food in the middle of the table, while I waited standing beside the chair. When she looked satisfied, she wrapped the cutlery in a napkin and placed it in my hands along with the plate.

“Can you take this to Enoch, dear?” she said, with a twinkle in her eyes that I dare say is a little suspicious. “His room is the first door to the right of the stairs.”

Of course it was.

“Are you sure it isn’t better for you to take it?” I asked in a low voice, a little afraid. “I don't think he'll want to see me.”

“He needs to get used to you sometime, Y/N.” She stated in a sweet voice. “Now go and come down again before reset.”

I nodded and headed for the hall. I could hear the children's tumult in the hallway leading to the kitchen, but I ignored them and went up the stairs, trying to prepare my heart to face the boy who had stolen my attention in all the stories Grandma told. I took a deep breath when I stopped in front of the door indicated by Miss Peregrine. I was nervous and afraid to drop the plate from my shaking hands. I knocked on the door and waited, but got no answer.

“Enoch?” this time I called when I knocked again.” Enoch, I brought your dinner.”

When I didn't get an answer again, I decided to test the knob. The door opened and I went inside. The room was as I imagined it from Grandma's descriptions and from what I could see from the wreckage of the orphanage in 2019. It had another door facing the entrance and a lamp in the middle of two large shelves full of pots. Some empty and others with dark water and shapes inside. I didn't need to look any closer to know that they were animal hearts. On the other side of the bookcase was the room itself. The single bed beside the door and a table directly in front of it, full of the most diverse objects, tools and doll parts. On the other side of the table was a large window with a closed blue partition. On one side of it was a sink and a half-dirty mirror and, on the other, a hammock hanging from the beam with more pieces of dolls. Despite the big window and the lamps and lamps scattered throughout the room, the atmosphere was still dark and impression of being somewhat morbid.

Enoch was facing the window, one hand in his pants pocket and the other arm resting on the frame. His expression was somber and, although he seems to be too absorbed in watching the sun almost set outside, I knew he was aware of my presence by his tense posture. I took a deep breath, preparing to formally introduce myself and leave him his food, but he spoke before I could open my mouth.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low and anguished and at no time did he turn towards me.

“Miss Peregrine asked me to bring you dinner.”

“I didn't mean up here, I meant what you are doing here in the loop.” He turned abruptly, with clenched fists. His gaze met mine and I had to control myself not to back down. I came knowing that my presence would bring painful memories to him and that he would be rude to me, but I didn't imagine that I would see so much hatred and contempt in his eyes. “If you are to leave just like Eloise did, you can go now. We don't need you here.”

I took a deep breath and tried to keep the pieces of my heart from becoming tears. I knew it would happen, I was prepared - it was what I kept repeating in my mind. Even so, it still hurt.

“I came to stay.” I replied and realized when he gasped with my firm tone and not intimidated. I left the plate and cutlery on the table, in a part free of dolls and tools. “I know that my presence is not pleasant at this moment, Enoch, but I am not leaving. I don't have the desire that she had to know the world outside because I already knew him. Since I was a child and heard stories about this place, I knew that this was where I would come when Grandma couldn't take care of me anymore. I imagine that like the others you must also know her situation. She was everything I had out there, so I have no reason to leave.

He opened his mouth to say something and I just raised my hand so he wouldn't interrupt me.

“No matter how much you want me to leave, I won’t. I came to 1943 to stay. You may have been the person I most wanted to meet. Yes, I know about your story and how much she hurt you, but she told me the amazing person you could be when you’re not in a bad mood around the corner and she always said that one of the biggest regrets in her life was leaving it. Before crossing the ocean, she asked me to take good care of you, because she knew you could be someone special to me and I intend to keep that promise, whether you want to or not. So you can treat me as badly as you want, I will not give up and I will not leave!”

I turned abruptly and left, without looking at him one last time. I was surprised at myself, for having said more than I intended, but at least I felt a weight coming out of my chest. And I wasn’t lying. Grandma said that one of her biggest regrets was having left him to go live in the world outside, but that at least it had led her to have mother and me. And the promise was real. I would take care of him in one way or another and I did intend to get him out of that armour.

“Oh, Y/N.” Peregrine looked at me with a warm and pitiful expression when I went down the stairs and that's when I realized that some tears were streaming down my cheek. I dried them quickly, hoping that it wouldn't be too apparent when I joined the other kids. “He just needs time, my dear, you just need to be patient.”

I swallowed hard when I realized that Grandma had talked more about me than I felt comfortable with. How embarrassing is your new headmistress to know about you liking the same boy your grandmother was romantically involved with? Is this just because of the stories told by the mentioned grandmother? I could almost feel my face exploding with shame.

“C'mon C'mon.” she rushed me, putting a gas mask in my hands and guiding me to the patio. “It's almost time to reset.”

I noticed that the children were all outside in the rain, with their masks on their faces and behind a small wooden table, where they had a gramophone and an open umbrella. Miss Peregrine hurried to put a clock on the table and turn on the gramophone. Typical '40s music started playing and I smiled as I put on the mask and joined the kids. It was a little nostalgic to hear it, as I always listened to it with Grandma. Olive, who was at my side, put her thick-gloved hand around me in a brief hug.

That's when I saw the flashes between the clouds. They looked like thunder, but they were orange. The first plane flew over the orphanage and I gasped, shocked to see a German plane live, even after I had prepared for it. It seemed too unbelievable that I was there, in the middle of World War II. Two more planes flew overhead and Miss Peregrine looked again at the pocket watch in her hand. Eight more planes passed over the house. A final plane flew over, and when it was near the orphanage, it opened the cargo hold and a bomb fell. I could see the swastika painted in white from my place on the floor. I winced. Not just because of the cold rain that ran down my clothes or because I knew what would happen if Miss Peregrine didn't return the last 24 hours - because I knew she would do it precisely. But because I knew everything that that symbol painted on the bomb meant. These kids living in a loop unaware of what happens in the future seem like a gift that Jacob and I wouldn’t share. Our knowledge of history seems to be a burden.

Seconds before the bomb hit the house, time stopped. The bomb stopped and so did the rain droplets. I saw Miss Peregrine turning the clock and everything moved in reverse. The bomb returned to the cargo compartment of the plane, which flew backwards in the sky, as did the other planes that had already passed and now returned. The raindrops returned to the sky, as did those that had already fallen. Time came back and it was day again. He came back more and it was night, but not like the one I had seen seconds before. It was a clear night with a starry sky. The clock read 2 September 1943.

I took a deep breath and sighed when I took off the mask. I was impacted by the reset. Despite everything Grandma had said and as she described it, seeing it in person was another experience. I was here, finally. My dream came true and I was here, in Cairnholm, Wales, living in Miss Peregrine's orphanage with other peculiar children, just like me. I would live my life frozen at the age of 19 and reliving September 3, 1943 every day.

And I couldn't be happier, despite all the circumstances that have brought me here.

“Y/N, Y/N!” Claire's voice took me out of my thoughts. She was already pulling me by the hand towards the house and the others laughed a little behind us. “Today I want Y/N to tell me a story!”

I laughed too. “But of course, princess. You just don't have to rip my arm off.”

The others continued to laugh and I smiled.

Before Claire pulled me through the door, however, I looked up. In one of the windows on the second floor I could see a figure watching us. Despite knowing that Enoch probably had a closed expression when he watched me, I put the mask under my arm and used my free hand to wave at him. I made sure to keep my smile on my face.

                         ~*~  

                  The months went by and when I realized it had been a year since I arrived. I was able to adapt easily to the life in the loop. Everyone there was very receptive to me - well, almost everyone - and the daily tasks weren’t so difficult, since they were distributed among all thirteen children. Many times when I stayed to prepare breakfast or lunch, Enoch was responsible for helping me. And I was sure I had been Miss Peregrine's idea. She seemed to want to help me interact with him. Not that it helps much, since he doesn't speak to me more than strictly necessary. But at least it was progress from the first many months, when he was just rude all the time. Olive also tried to help. She was closest to Enoch and, after a girl’s night in my room with her and Emma - when they not only tried on my 21st century clothes with a lot of laughter but also forced some secrets out of me - Olive tried to make him open up a little and not just plainly ignore me. Still, I treated him as I treated everyone: with a smile on my face and always willing to approach.

I became part of the routine there. Between the letters I exchanged with Grandma and the daily chores, I quickly became friends with everyone. Most of the morning I spent with Bronwyn, Claire and the twins, whether playing with dolls or playing tag. During the afternoon I played football with the boys or chess with Emma or Jacob. At least once a week I would join Emma and Olive for a girl’s night. When I didn't feel very well, either because I missed Grandma or because Enoch was extremely rude to me, I would sit in the library and spend all day there reading. Horace used to join me these days. Sometimes he managed to get some conversation going, sometimes we just kept each other company while we read. It was comforting.

When I first took my camera out of my room, everyone was curious. Miss Peregrine had a strict rule about talking about the future or having things from the future, but I think that since Jacob arrived three years before me, she didn't care so much about a few slips. Especially if it wasn't something that could cause too much impact. Even Enoch seemed interested, even though he tried not to show it in front of me. I made sure to take pictures of everyone and leave a copy for each peculiar. I even taught Emma how to use the camera and she loved taking it with her when she was out walking with Jake.

As for my peculiarity, I never practiced it as much as there in that loop. The younger children were always asking me to make them a new doll or toy for them, Hugh always asked me for a new ball when the old one burst and I managed to avoid some trips outside the loop by doing some things that Miss Peregrine needed. I always carried a pen I had in 2019 in my dress pocket. It was easier to be prepared, since there was always someone asking for something. And I didn't complain, it was always good to be able to see the smile on their faces afterwards and to be able to practice. Each new order was a new challenge. I had even started a new project to make binoculars that allow Miss Peregrine to see invisible things. It still hadn't had the same effect as I did with Grandma and Abe, but I was on the way.

Enoch, however, had never asked me for anything. Not that it stopped me from taking my pen and using several pieces of paper to draw hearts of all sizes. At least once a week I filled pots with hearts and left them in front of his room. At first he seemed upset by this and even told me to stop, but of course I ignored him - especially after I heard him saying to Miss Peregrine that their efficiency was equal to that of animal hearts. One of the times that I left the pots for him, I hid behind my bedroom door and waited for Enoch to leave his room. I could have sworn I saw a small smile on his lips before he slammed the door.

I was happy that Enoch seemed to open up to the other kids at least. A few weeks ago, after talking to Bronwyn about Victor on a day that she was particularly sad, I left the house looking for Claire, as I knew that maybe she was a little disoriented without her usual company. When I approached a tree furthest from the garden, I was surprised to find Enoch sitting in the shadows with Claire, giving life to several dolls in order to distract her. I stayed away, watching as he made her laugh with a small smile on his lips. I turned around and joined Bronwyn in her room again, my heart warming from the scene I witnessed, but not wanting to disturb them.

But even after the progress I made with Enoch, perhaps today it was the trigger for everything to go down. My emotions have never been so close to exploding.

Tonight was a movie night. Horace had announced that morning that he had dreamed of more than just clothes and Miss Peregrine decided that we would see after dinner. Everyone spent all day anxious, as it’s been many days since Horace hadn’t dreamed of anything interesting to be shown. Several times throughout the day I caught him looking at me like he was having an inside joke that I didn't understand. When everyone had finished dinner, we spread out in the living room. Claire sat on my lap, like almost every time we watched Horace's dreams, and I started braiding her hair, being careful to keep my fingers out of her backmouth. The twins sat on the floor, leaning against my legs, and Bronwyn sat down with Enoch on the couch directly across from us.

“Everyone ready, dears?” asked Miss Peregrine when she arrived in the room after taking the call.

“Horace said he had a very interesting dream! What do you think is it about?” Claire asked me, looking excited.

“We’ll find out soon enough, princess.” I replied, finishing braiding the blond hair.

When Miss Peregrine turned off the lights and Horace projected the images on the wall, I almost immediately regretted being there in that room. The first image was a girl with short curls and a tear-stained face. It was me. I couldn't see much beyond my face and my hand moving a pen over a piece of paper. I didn't seem to be doing my drawings, I was writing. I sniffed, with more tears streaming down my face, and ran my hand over my cheek to dry some of them, before leaning over the paper. Something moved behind me and it was then that I realized it was a door opening. A figure came in and the dream me turned around in fear. I felt the eyes of the other children on me and I swallowed, hoping the images would soon change. And they changed. The next image was of a beach, with calm waves. It stayed in that image for a few seconds before changing again. Horace was trying on a suit and looking at himself in the mirror.

The image changed again and I almost felt my face explode with shame. The dream showed me sitting in the shadow of a half-hidden tree, probably at the back of the orphanage courtyard. But I was not alone. Enoch was with me, his back against the tree and hugging me around the waist. I was leaning against his chest, between his legs. I had a book in my hands and read it aloud. We both laughed at something and he kissed my face several times until I turned and kissed his lips.

I just wanted a hole to open in the floor and swallow me. Some kids started giggling and Claire nudged my arm, laughing softly too. I heard a whistle from one of the boys and Jacob, who was sitting next to me, raised his eyebrow at me with a mocking smile on his lips. I gathered courage and looked up to see Enoch's reaction. I wish I hadn't done it. He didn't look at me, but he had an expression of pure disgust on his face. And it hurt more than I expected.

“I think it's fine for today, Horace, thank you.” said Miss Peregrine, turning on the lights while the others made noises of indignation. “Come on, come on, kids, it's almost time for reset.”

Everyone got up quickly. I wasn't in such a hurry, I was feeling a little dizzy with everything. When I finally got up from my seat on the sofa, the children had already gone after Miss Peregrine and only Enoch remained in the room. I avoided looking him in the eye when I passed him to leave too. But I was stopped abruptly when he grabbed my arm in an iron grip. I turned to him, confused, and the question stuck in my throat when I saw his black eyes shining with pure contempt.

“If you think that will happen, you are extremely wrong.” he said with so much venom in his tone that I almost choked on tears that were threatening to rise. “Now that Horace has shown us the dream, I will stop it.”

I didn't want to hear anymore. My emotions, which had been choking me for the past few days, seemed to bubble. I yanked my arm out of his grip and barely felt the sting that his fingers left on my skin. I practically flew out of the room and into the kitchen, ignoring the curious looks of those still in the hall. I needed to calm down. I took some water and took a sip. I took a deep breath, trying to contain the tightness in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. I stayed there for a few minutes and, when I heard the rain starting to fall, I decided that I would go to the room instead of watching the reset. All I wanted at that moment was to write a letter to grandma. She would know the right words to say to me so I wouldn't let my emotions take over my decisions and end up leaving for another loop. I finished drinking my water and left the kitchen. When I was heading for the stairs, however, I heard voices coming from the living room. It seemed to be an argument.

“… right to say that to her, Enoch!”

Emma.

“Doesn’t matter.” he said in a voice so low that I almost couldn't hear. He didn't seem as angry as he used to. He seemed almost… sad.

“Of course it matter!” Emma did look annoyed. “Y/N was nothing but kind and sweet to everyone here, especially you! You cannot treat her that way when she has given you no reason to do so.”

“You don't know that! She can decide to simply take her things and leave just like Eloise did! And what will prevent it? And what will become of me when I have to go through this pain all over again?”

“Enoch, put this in your head: Y/N is not leaving! She came here knowing that she will live here forever.”

I appreciated the fact that Emma was defending me, but I needed to act on my own. I opened the door and they both looked surprised to see me there.

“Emma is right, Enoch.” I said in a voice so calm that it surprised even myself, because I felt the complete opposite of calm. “Yes, there have been times when you treated me so badly in the last few months that I got to the point of almost taking the map I have with the loops and leaving. But do you know why I didn't and won't do it? First, because you wouldn't be the one I would leave behind. I made friends here, I made a family. I wouldn’t be able to abandon them because of you. And how many times do I need to repeat that I don't need to go back to 2019 because I have no reason to remain there besides my grandmother who is no longer able to live with me without attracting Hollows. In addition, I made a promise that I intend to keep.”

Emma tried to leave the room quietly, but I raised my hand and motioned for her not to go. My head was spinning so much that I needed her there with me in case I passed out in front of Enoch. He, in turn, just watched me while I vented everything. His shoulders fell and his eyes shone with an emotion that I didn't recognize when they strolled across my face. It was then that I felt tears streaming down my cheeks, but I didn't even bother to dry them.

“I promised grandma that I would take care of you, Enoch. And it's not just because you were an important person to her, but because, with all the stories I heard from this place, I managed to fall in love with yours. I know this is weird. To I fall in love with someone just hearing about that person? Well, it happened. And then I get here and I can only fall more in love with you. You have become an important person to me and I feel completely pathetic for being in love with someone who has treated me badly since the moment you saw me. But I made a choice, I chose to come to this loop and I will stay true to that choice. Maybe I’ll regret it in the future? I might, but I will remain here because you are here and, even if you spend the next few centuries hating me, I will spend the next few centuries here enduring it, because I am pathetic. I'm pathetically in love with you.”

I finished talking and I was almost in tears. My breathing was heavy and my vision blurred. Emma looked at me biting her lip, as if holding a smile, but Enoch looked at me with wide eyes and completely bewildered. It was then that I realised everything I said and after a few seconds paralysed, I ran out of the room. I only stopped when I was back in my room, just in time to see through the window the night turning into day and night again. The children would soon begin to return to their rooms for bed. But I couldn't sleep after everything that happened that day. I just needed Grandma there with me, to give me a hug and make her special hot chocolate.

I took a deep breath, my back still against the closed door, and tried to control my tears, but I couldn't. The memory of the dream of the two of us under the tree and the way he treated me were still stuck like iron to my eyelids. I looked at the table under the window and ran to it. I turned on the lamp and took a piece of paper from the corner. I took my pen out of my dress pocket while I sat down and started writing a letter. I just hoped the handwriting was minimally readable, since I couldn't see very well between my tears.

                 Hello Grandma,

How are you? How is the nursing home treating you? I hope you haven't had any problems and that no Hollow has found it. I know it hasn't been more than a week or two since the last letter I wrote to you, but I think maybe I’ve reached my emotional limit. I know what you're going to say "but Y/N, it's only been a few months!" I know, grandma, I know. But I think I let everything accumulate and I couldn't take it after today's events.

I think the progress I reported to you was not so positive. I am quite sure that Enoch hates me perhaps more than he hates you. I'm sorry if I failed the promise to take care of him. In my defence, I did and continue to do whatever I can to let him at least know that I am being truthful about my intentions here. But after today I know he will hardly want to be in the same place as me, let alone open up again and stop being so… lonely.

Tonight was a movie night, Grandma. Do you remember how delighted I was every time you told me about them? And that, the first time I saw it, I wrote a whole letter about it? I am still fascinated by how Horace manages to project his dreams, but today all I wanted was for him to have kept that dream to himself. Maybe then my heart wouldn't be so broken. Horace dreamed of us, Grandma, me and Enoch. Together. Sitting under a tree and being kind to each other. Enoch even smiled in the dream. And while my heart was filled with a warm and euphoric feeling at the sight of it, Enoch later shattered it into thousands of pieces. He made it very clear that it would never happen, as he would do his best to avoid it.

Grandma... Is there something wrong with me? You were the only one who was present with me in my whole life, my only constant, my only friend and family. So I ask you to be completely honest with me and I trust you to be. Is something wrong with me? To prevent people from getting closer, to prevent me from being happy in the only place I have felt at home in my entire life? Is it my fault that I am unable to find the peace I have always sought here?

I feel so small, Grandma, so small and pathetic. Maybe it's my fault for not being able to be happy here. While everyone is so warm and welcoming to me... I feel like I blew it with Enoch, who was the biggest reason I chose 1943 in Cairnholm to stay. I told him, Grandma. I know you said that I should have told him before and in a way that I wouldn't scare him, but I practically screamed at his face that I was in love with him. I never felt so stupid and never really wanted so badly to go back in time and avoid my mistake. He will never want to look at me again...

I should have kept that secret with me forever. And it was the first time that I felt that maybe it was a mistake to come to this loop. What if he was better before I arrived? I don't think we ever got to talk about that possibility, but I admit that it just crossed my mind today. What if he was already better and I just made it worse? Should I go? Should I ask him if he wants me out? I'm sorry, Grandma, but I think I would have to break our promise and go. My heart sinks at the thought of leaving the others, but I would do anything to make Enoch happy.

                                       I had to stop writing the letter for a moment when more tears started to flow. I ran my hand over my cheek in a futile attempt to dry them and leaned over the paper again, trying to organize my confused thoughts into coherent sentences. But I didn't get to write, because the sound of the door opening caught my attention. I turned around scared, because I didn't expect anyone to come here after the curfew. I widened my eyes even more when I realized it was Enoch at the door and stood up, surprised.

“Enoch?!”

Enoch said nothing as he closed the door behind him. I rested my hands on the table behind me, embarrassed and nervous. When Enoch took the necessary steps to approach me, I had to support myself with my hands and waist on the table, as my legs no longer supported me. When his scent - a mixture of earth, soap and formaldehyde - hit me hard, I looked up and looked at his face. I was even more surprised when I saw anguish and sadness in his dark eyes. He raised a callused hand to my face, but hesitated only for a second when I tensed. I gasped and closed my eyes when his fingers touched my cheeks and dried my tears.

“Y/N...” Enoch said, his voice low and choppy. “I'm so sorry.”

I opened my eyes wide. An apology from him was the last thing I expected.

“I didn't want you to feel that way. Okay, I wanted to, but not for the reasons you think.” He added when he saw my raised eyebrow. He wiped away more tears that had just fallen and continued to hold my face in his hands. “I don't hate you, Y/N. At least not anymore. I wanted to hate you, I wanted you to hate me, but I can't. Even when I was rude to you, even when all I did was give you reasons to be rude to me too. But I feel different with you, when you open that smile even when I do my best to ignore you. When you put hearts on my door, when you share all your free time with others, giving them your attention and never complaining.”

My breathing became heavier as I began to understand the words he spoke as a small smile opened on his lips. His eyes shone a little brighter with each sentence and his gaze roamed my face with an emotion that I couldn't identify. When he spoke the next sentence, however, I felt like I could pass out right there.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N, and I'm sorry for everything I did with you. I just didn't want to get hurt again.”

I couldn't formulate any sentences. I felt like my brain had stopped working properly. I could only look at Enoch's face, opening and closing my mouth, trying to say something but without succeeding. After a few minutes of looking at us, Enoch's expression fell and he started to walk away from me. That's when I started to panic because I needed to give him an answer. I grabbed his wrist before he could walk to the door and put my other hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me. Our lips touched and I felt like my heart was going to explode when he didn't pull away. I felt his arms wrap around my waist and my entire body relaxed against his. His kiss was magical and I couldn't concentrate on anything other than Enoch - his scent, his arms around me, his chest against mine, his curls wrapped around my fingers, his lips forming a smile against mine.

We broke the kiss, but we didn't move away. I felt my cheeks burning when I saw his eyes watching me with a fondness I wasn’t used to. I hid my face against his shoulder, embarrassed, and he hugged me against his chest. The feeling of being in his arms was wonderful.

“Y/N?” he called and I leaned away minimally. I followed his gaze to where I had left the letter I wrote to Grandma and hurried to hide the letter behind my body. Enoch looked up at my face with a determined expression. “Y/N, I don't want you to leave. Please don’t leave me.”

The pain in your voice broke my heart.

“I won’t.” I guaranteed, placing my hand on his face and caressing his cheek. He leaned closer to my touch, seeming to relax. “I won’t leave. This is my home now. With Miss Peregrine, with the children and with you.”

Enoch took me by surprise when he kissed me again when I had barely finished my sentence. His kiss this time was stronger, more passionate. He pulled me even closer and I felt immersed in his perfume and his touch. One kiss became two, three, four and neither of us wanted to let the other go. Enoch lifted me up and my feet left the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist to keep from falling and he held my thighs. His touch on my skin, his hair under my fingers, his lips against mine. I could only think of that moment, right now and how happy I was. Enoch guided us to my bed and leaned over me when my back touched the mattress. He looked into my eyes, searching for confirmation, and I pulled him to kiss him again.

I don't need to say what happened that night.

            ~*~

        The next day I woke up with something soft against my cheeks. Despite the sleep, I managed to open my eyes and see the smile that Enoch was giving me. It was such a rare smile that I couldn't help but smile as well. Enoch leaned over again and placed a kiss on my lips. When he pulled away, I couldn't help but try to go after him to prolong our kiss. He laughed.

“I need to go back to my room, Y/N.” He said and I frowned. “Miss Peregrine will wake up in a few minutes and it won't be good if she finds me here and in the situation we are in.”

Last night's memories flooded my mind and I realised I was out of my pyjamas under the covers while he was already dressed again. I blushed, but I couldn't help smiling.

“Yeah, I don't think it would be a good idea.” That was all I managed to answer, still feeling the euphoria of happiness in my chest.

Enoch laughed again and placed another kiss on my lips, this time taking longer.

“Get changed and go downstairs, I'll meet you at breakfast. After that I want to take you on a walk.”

“Alright.”

He pulled away to leave, but I grabbed his arm and kissed him again, a little resistant to let him go. He smiled against my lips and dodged my arms. I laughed when he winked at me before closing the door. I laid down again and sighed. The smile didn't leave my lips and I started to doubt that it would fade at some point. I just wanted to stay in that bed, going over the memories. But following the logic that the faster I got up, the faster I would meet him, I got out of bed and put on one of the dresses Horace had made for me.

Before leaving, however, I decided that I would finish the letter I wrote to Grandma. Maybe I would even write another one. When I sat down at the table, however, I noticed something interesting. The letter was already finished, in a letter that wasn’t mine.

          Dear Eloise,

I heard about your situation and I hope you are well as far as possible. I know that I cannot erase the past as I so often found myself imagining. I also know that the hole you left in my chest when you left may never close properly again. But I found someone who makes me ignore it and makes me concentrate on the happy moments here in the loop instead of drowning in sad memories. For a long time I hated you for the way you broke my heart when I left, but I won't be sinking into that feeling anymore, because if you hadn't left, if you hadn't left me, I wouldn't have known the reason for my smile. If you hadn't gone, I never would have met Y/N.

I don't say that as if the time we both spent together was in vain, as if nothing had meant anything to me. But looking at Y/N now, sleeping in her bed with such a serene expression on her face, as I complete her letter, I realise that maybe I was wrong about the intensity of the love I felt back then. Y/N makes me happy, truly happy. She makes me light and euphoric, as if there is nothing in the world to worry about while she is beside me. I know I made her suffer during the year that she was here and seeing how she didn't give up for a moment made me fall in love with her even more. And it also made me realise that I couldn’t deprive myself (or even deprive her) of that happiness just because of my fear that she would also leave me.

So I end this letter (heartbroken after reading the first half) by making you a promise just as she had done: I promise that I will take care of Y/N. I promise that I will spend the rest of our lives making up for the pain I caused her in her first few months here. I love her and all I want is for her to be happy here, beside me.

Thank you for having a wonderful granddaughter and I thank you most of all for the opportunity to have her in my life.

Affectionately,

Enoch O'Connor

              I couldn't help the lonely tear that ran down my face when I read the letter, just as I couldn't help my lips parting in a smile. I felt like I was falling in love again and even more when reading Enoch's words. I folded the paper and placed it in an envelope that was next to the lamp. I checked that I was properly dressed and left the room with the envelope in hand. I would like to ask Miss Peregrine to send it as soon as possible.

During breakfast the children looked confused and skeptical with the looks that Enoch and I exchanged, while Miss Peregrine had a small smirk on her lips and Emma was barely trying to hide her smug expression. I didn’t care. I was too anxious to take the walk with Enoch and to spend the next few centuries with him.

Needless to say, Horace's vision of the two of us in the shadow of the tree happened just a few weeks later, right?

[ijwrff]

Yandere! Wilford Warfstache

Hello! This is a commission from my good friend @nerdqueenkat​. I haven’t written anything for egos in a while so I hope this turned out okay! 

It...wasn’t very hard to notice Wilford Warfstache. That is...unless he didn’t want you to know he was there. Somehow the world around him seemed to bend to his will. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was some magical being who could make all your wishes come true. 

That was how it started. You were going about your day as usual, when you took notice of the man with the pink suspenders sitting on the bench you would normally wait on for the evening bus back home. 

“Is this seat taken?” You politely asked, before he gave a shake of his head and scooted over to accommodate for you. Before, he was slouched across it, not leaving any room for a second person. 

“Of course not...you can see me?” It was straightforward, and you turned to him in shock. 

“See you...of course, you’re right here.” He looked as real as anyone else...actually. There didn’t seem to be anyone at the stop. It wasn’t usually a popular spot, but a good two or three people were common. You’d even come to know a couple by name in your time taking the same bus every day. But none of them seemed to be here today. 

“Well now what day is it…” The man looked perplexed, as if he had no bearings on what was real in the world around him. This man surely must be mad. 

Even so, you indulged, hoping that he wasn’t the dangerous kind of mad. “It’s September. The 21st?” The bus would surely be here soon. Maybe he wasn’t intent on riding the bus, and was simply using the bench as a place to stay. 

There were too many things that didn’t add up. 

“No, no, the month or day doesn’t matter, silly! What year?” He didn’t seem to be harmful at least...if anything maybe a bit confused. There was an odd drawl to his speech, maybe he was simply recovering from a late night out. A hangover could certainly explain the confusion. 

“2020.” A short answer, maybe he would get the message and not try pushing any buttons until your bus got here. 

Your answer only seemed to confuse him more as he began muttering to himself. “No that’s not right...I don’t meet you for another…”

Now he was starting to worry you. He sounded like he seriously lost his marbles, you just wanted to get back home and curl up on the couch with your favorite show on. Maybe a nice cup of hot chocolate. 

You turned away from the man and saw the headlights of a bus in the distance, gradually getting closer. “Well it was nice meeting you but I…” When you turned back he was no longer there. Where could he have been able to go so quietly? 

Shaking off the strange encounter, you got off the bus and made your way back home. That would have been it, a strange encounter. But that wasn’t the last time you saw him. 

Months later, into the chilly weather of February, you were sitting in a local cafe, browsing through the internet with the help of their free wifi. It was quiet, and nobody paid you much mind, until one familiar person came around and changed your life. 

“It’s good to see you gumdrop, I’ve missed you!” Before you could react, you were being pulled into a side hug. You aimed to push the stranger away, but you recognized him. He wasn’t easy to forget. His strong grip made it near possible to escape, but as quickly as it happened it was over. 

The man spun around to the other side of the table and kicked his feet up onto the table. You looked around quickly to see if anyone else was seeing what you were, but they didn’t turn. They didn’t seem to notice you at all. 

“How has the new job been going? Got time for a few questions?” He seemed more...peppy than he had been. In fact, he seemed to be almost formal. He had a notepad out and a pen he pulled from behind his ear as he seemingly read through a list of potential questions. 

You were still stumped on the first one. “New...new job? I’m sorry I think you’re confusing me with someone else.” Getting up to leave and give this man some space, you shuffled your things into your bag. He didn’t let you get away. 

“Wait! Just a minute, no worries my darling it probably hasn’t happened yet.” Flipping quickly through a few pages he cleared his throat. “Ah yes, here we are.” He seemed to find his place, quickly throwing out another question before you could process the insanity that was leaving his lips. “What would you say your favorite animal is? If you could have one as a pet what would it be?” 

“I’m sorry...animal? I don’t even know your name.” You wanted to give this man a chance, clearly he thought he knew you. “Um...if I’d have to pick I’d say rabbit. They seem easy to take care of in my current apartment.” 

With a nod he wrote down your answer, not that you had given him permission to. But honestly? Anything to get this odd situation out of the way, you had to search for a job soon or you’d lose your apartment…

“My name?” The man let out a loud laugh, leaving you to once again check to see if you had caused a disturbance, only ro yet again be met with obliviousness. Not a single person was turning to look at you. It made you feel...uneasy. This man seemed to have an air that said he can and will get whatever he wants...so what does he want with you?

“My name is Wilford Warfstache, my dear y/n.” The man you now know as Wilford leaned forward, leaving you to wonder how he knew your name. “And you...are my spouse. Maybe not now...but surely later. It’s only a matter of time. No matter how relevant such a thing may be.” He leaned forward, and you found yourself leaning forward as well. What was so enticing about this man?

You couldn’t help it...when you leaned forward it was almost as if there was a pink hue to his eyes, swirling...captivating. What...were you just worried about? 

Your lips never hit his though. But a sweet taste filled your mouth. You were alone at the table, your favorite flavor of sucker hanging from your mouth. 

It was months later when you found him for the third time. Since then, random gifts have arrived at your door. You knew it was him, but how he knew your address was beyond you. You resorted to staying at home for fear of running into Wilford again. He wouldn’t be able to make it into your home...right?

You had tried moving multiple times. It only took three times for you to give up. He always knew. How did he always know?

Something was off...something was wrong about him. You knew telling the police would do nothing. He couldn’t be human. He was in your dreams...telling you of a future that you’ll have together. It got to the point where walking around your empty apartment day to day seemed more like a dream. 

The dreams became more...enticing over time. Everything you ever wanted was a reality. All of your problems were just...washed away. The dreams would all always end the same. Wilford would say the same line at the end of every dream. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

At this point...it was unclear even to you if it was a promise or a threat. 

One day, or one gift rather, shined through more than any other. When you opened your door to the sound of the mail arriving, you were greeting with yet another gift basket. This one...was completely full of things you recall telling Wilford about in your dreams. 

A book from your childhood, a postcard from the place you most wanted to visit, and an array of your favorite candies, all mixed in with something you thought you’d never see again. The vase that you broke in childhood, that you were told held great history in your family. Your parents gave you hell for breaking it, and there wasn’t a family gathering you went to where someone didn’t bring it up. How did he know the exact one?

 The dreams had to be real, or he would never know. Or maybe...this was a dream as well. It seemed as if every time he asked you a question, the answer directly correlated with what gifts you would receive next. 

Sometimes they were out of order, but they all arrived at some point. You intended to ask him about it in your dreams tonight. 

The stage was set. You had soothing music playing to help you fall asleep, and were dressed in your most comfortable pajamas. You knew he would be in your dreams again tonight. It was near every day now that it happened. You almost...looked forward to it. 

The dreams range in length and content, and each night was different than the last. A different location, a different theme, but each romantic in it’s own way. 

As you fell asleep, a familiar comforting feeling crept through your body, and you opened your eyes to see Wilford throwing carnival game balls at a set of milk bottles. It seemed the theme  for  tonight was a carnival. 

“Win any games yet Wilford?” By now, you had grown used to seeing him. The conversation always seemed to flow freely. 

Throwing a smirk your way, he replied “Of course, I always win the best of prizes for you.” As if on cue, you noticed the array of stuffed animals sitting on the counter next to the balls. Any and all kinds and sizes were sitting on display just waiting to be grabbed. 

“Wilford...this time I have a question for you, if that’s alright.” For once, you were almost at a loss of what to say, despite knowing you had spent the day preparing what to say to him tonight. Would he react negatively? Would he stop sending gifts? What if you said the wrong thing and he realized that he didn’t need you. At this point...you needed him. 

Wilford didn’t seem to notice the anxiety, and gave a smile over his shoulder as he knocked down another bottle. “Changing things up on me, sugarplum? I think you’d make the most amazing interviewer.” Throwing the last ball he turned, putting his arm over your shoulder. It was also something you had grown used to, the physical contact. 

It was always either a hand around the small of your back, one draped over your shoulder, or him holding your much smaller hand in his own. If a stranger were to touch you in such a way, you’d probably throw a few punches their way if they didn’t take the hint. But contact with Wilford had an almost calming effect on you. As if his very existence made you feel more comfortable. Being with him made all your problems dissolve away. 

Shaking your head clear of your thoughts you spoke aloud the question you prepared to ask. “Why do you send me gifts every day?” Straightforward and to the point. Tonight wouldn’t be about enjoying time with Wilford, like every other night, tonight was about answers. 

He gave you a confused look in return, “Haven’t I told you? We get married eventually. And I see no problem in spoiling my spouse.” He spun around, talking openly with his hands, “Our time together starts soon, you just have to be patient.” 

His words soothed you, almost made you feel like being with him was meant to happen. You saw the pink gleam in his eyes again, and lost your words. All you could think about was him. As your mind begins to go blank, every stress in the world melts away. Looking into his eyes was all you needed to do right now.  

Somehow...it felt right. He declared he would always give you gifts, and you would get to meet him in the real world soon. For now...you were happy to have him in your dreams. 

As time passed...more gifts arrived. You started to grow grateful. Wilford has spent so much time and effort getting you things you enjoy. Someone who seemed so...sweet couldn’t possibly be bad. 

It had now been months since you last saw Wilford in person, and only days since the dreams stopped. You knew he was coming. It was finally time. You were ready for him. 

When he finally returned to your door, he was wearing a pink suit with a bouquet of matching pink roses. 

“I’ve missed you, my special little gumdrop.” He extended his arm to give you the flowers, which you quickly grabbed, moving them out of the way to give Wilford a hug. 

“I’ve missed you too.” Never had you spoken words so true. Something had always been missing in your life. You knew you were destined for more. He was everything you need. He would give you the perfect life you’ve always wanted. 

“Have you made your choice my dear?” He would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to. At least that’s what his eyes were telling you. 

One look into the beautiful pink swirls in his eyes, and you knew. 

He had been preparing you. In your dreams of lavish lifestyles, and endless fun to be had, you knew you only had one choice. One dream in particular you knew would be your future. 

Living your life as his most prized possession. You would spend the rest of your days not having to worry about trivial things that life has tasked you with. You didn’t need freedom. You didn’t need friends. You would only have Wilford and Wilford alone. He was yours forever, just as much as you were his. 

“Together...forever.”

[urfavchatnoirsimp]

The Littlest of Things

Part: 2

Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life gets thrown off-course when she discovers the secret of a lifetime. Will her attention to detail be her downfall? Or will her perception of even the littlest of things spark new things in her chaotic life?

<<Previous

“What do you mean, I’m grounded again?” Marinette huffed, plopping on the couch.

“You’re starting to become late and miss classes again dear!” Her mom reminded her.

“Until you can prove you can stay on your A-game, you’re grounded, with the exception of class of course.” Marinette’s dad put his hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t like you honey, we know you can do better.”

“It’s for your own good,” her mom said, remorse in her eyes.

“Whatever,” Marinette grumbled, making her way to her room, only to toss herself onto her bed.

This was the worst thing that could happen to her! Just when she was starting to be more confident with Adrien, she had to mess it up with her superhero duties!

“It’s not that bad Mari! You still get to be Ladybug, and you can see your friends at school!” Tikki said, soaring out of Marinette’s purse.

“It’s not that...it’s just, I’m never going to be able to stop being late! I have all these responsibilities, and saving Paris is a bigger deal than making it to chemistry on time, right?”

“Right. Besides, you can’t tell anyone you’re Ladybug, so it’s not like your teacher understands!”

“Understands...You’re a genius Tikki! I need advice from someone who understands!” Marinette ran off downstairs.

“Mom, dad, I’m tired from all that studying last night, so I’m going to doze off a bit, okay? Can you guys leave me be so I can get a good nap?”

“Of course dear! Sleep well!” Her mom gave her a heart-warming smile, which triggered a pang of guilt in her chest.

“So what’s going on? Why are we going to bed so early?” Tikki hung in the air, her expression one of confusion.

“We aren’t. Tikki, spots on!”

———————————————————————

“Hey Bugaboo, what was the urgent call about? Another one of your buds been akumatized?” Chat Noir leaned against his pole, his suit and hair gleaming in the light of the golden sun.

“No, I just wanted to talk.” His expression softened at Marinette’s words, and he placed a hand on her waist, pulling him towards her. The placement of his hand felt oddly familiar, but she had other things to worry about, like the reason she called Chat in the first place.

“Come with me, M’lady, and I’ll take you to my favorite spot in all of Paris!” Chat offered her his hand, and this time Marinette took it without a second thought.

They flew around Paris, Chat giving her a tour of all the places that were “important” to them, such as: “Look, Ladybug! That’s where you first defeated Stoneheart!” or, “Hey, remember, that’s where you threw an ice cream cone on my head!”

Chat Noir finally reached his destination, setting Marinette down on a familiar balcony.

“Is this-?”

“It sure is. I’m surprised you recognized it without the roses and candles. It’s where I confessed my love to you, which you’re welcome to return anyday now!”

“Very sweet of you kitty, but you know how it is. I’m in love with another boy, and I already told you I don’t want to lead either of you on.”

“Could you at least tell me his name?”

“So you can murder him in your sleep? I think not!” Chat Noir laughed, making Marinette’s heart swell. No matter how much she loved Adrien, there was something about Chat Noir that made her feel pure bliss.

“What is it you wanted to talk about, M’lady?”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Handle all your responsibilities? I keep messing up my schedule whenever an akuma shows up, and now it’s affecting my entire life. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m not sure I’m one to help you, I have a pretty tight schedule in my civilian life, but somehow it never gets in the way of anything? Maybe some of your luck is rubbing off on me?”

“Oh. I just thought maybe you understood, because no one else could.” A tear slipped down Marinette’s mask, and Chat Noir was quick to wipe it away.

“It’s okay to feel like this Bugaboo, and I do understand. I’m always here for you, no matter how desperate it is. If you just need some cheering up or if you just need someone to be there, you can count on me.” Chat Noir opened his arms to her, and Marinette appreciatively snuggled into them.

She felt his heart beating rapidly against his chest, but she felt something else too. A soft purr was rumbling in his lungs, and Marinette laughed when she looked up at his sheepish face.

“You’re good company, you know that, right?” Marinette whispered, making his purr intensify. Chat Noir pulled her face up to his, still holding her tightly. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I know,” he whispered back, leaning in a bit more, but only to have his lips touch the softness of her cheek, less than an inch away from her lips.

Why did he make her feel like this? She didn’t know what it was, but something about him just made her heart become overflowed with emotions. It was like how she felt with Adrien, if Adrien was... a cat?

The duo sat together for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. The sun had started to set by the time Marinette realized she had to go home before her parents got suspicious.

“Thank you, Chat Noir, I needed this. Well, I guess I needed you.”

“I’m always here for you M’lady,” Chat Noir smiled sweetly, and the sight made Marinette’s heart melt. Like everything else about him, it seemed familiar. But she could never recall where the familiarity was from. Even if it was right in front of her.

———————————————————————

The next week, Marinette made sure to make it to every single one of her classes not only on time, but early as well. This surprised the majority of her friends, and her teachers as well. It had paid off though, because her parents officially un-grounded her that Friday, leaving Marinette to automatically make plans with Alya.

“Of course! We need to catch up on a whole week of drama, since your parents wouldn’t let you out!” Alya said excitedly over the phone.

“Okay, me and you, tonight, sleepover at my house?”

Alya paused for a moment. “Tonight? I kinda had plans with Nino...wait! I’ll call you back soon, alright?”

“Okay?” Alya hung up on her, leaving Marinette alone and confused.

A tapping noise averted her attention from her phone, and she cautiously opened the door to the rooftop to see who it was.

“Marinette!”

“Ch-Chat Noir?”

“In the flesh! Or, should I say, in the fur?!”

“What are you doing here-” Marinette’s phone buzzed, and at the same time, so did Chat’s catphone. She didn’t think anything of it, and turned her ringer off.

“I came to see you of course!”

“You- you came to see...me?”

“Well I was strolling around on patrol, and all of a sudden I got a craving for macaroons! And I know that you make the best in the city, so...what do you got for me?”

How did he know that she made macaroons? Unless...he knew her in real life? Her mind was spinning, but she managed to shake it off.

“What’s your favorite flavor? We have a wide variety down in the bakery!”

“Hmm, chocolate is good, but strawberry is purrfect, but- oh! Do you happen to have any passion-fruit flavored?”

She glanced down to her desk, where Adrien’s special macaroon was hiden. She could always make more, right?

Marinette handed the passionfruit treat to Chat.

“Try this, it’s something special I cooked up.”

He obeyed, and when he took a bite, his features softened.

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” Marinette blushed at his words, and even at the way he stuffed the rest of the delicacy into his mouth.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, okay? I need like, a thousand orders of these!”

“I’ll need your address for that, which means you’ll have to reveal your identity to me!”

Chat Noir seemed to think about it for a minute. Then he grinned.

“Sounds like a fair deal!”

“Wait no! I was joking!” Marinette covered her eyes with her hands, thinking Chat would actually do it.

A soft pair of hands met hers, pulling them away from her eyes. She slowly opens her eyes, preparing herself to see his identity. Standing there, was the smirking face of...Chat Noir.

“Stop messing with me like that! I thought you were actually going to do it!”

“Please, though you do make the best macaroons in Paris, I only want one person to know who I am!”

“Let me guess...you?”

“Hmmm, make it two then. Me and Ladybug!”

“Oh right, you love her.”

“I sure do. But, I don’t know if she’ll ever love me back. It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

“Why’s that?” Marinette felt a twinge uncomfortable, knowing she was tricking Chat Noir into telling his feelings about her...to her.

“She says there’s this other guy. I’m glad she’s not leading me on but...”

“But you wish that she was all yours?”

“Does that sound cocky?”

“No, I think it sounds like someone who’s desperately in love.”

Chat Noir sat patiently on the railing of Marinette’s balcony as she gathered a travel bag of treats for him. She wasn’t even sure why she was doing it. Maybe she felt guilty? Knowing that she was breaking his heart?

As she tied the bag shut, she grabbed another passionfruit macaroon for him, just because. She could always make more for Adrien.

“Thank you Marinette! These look cat-solutley delicious!”

“If you make another cat pun, I’m going take it back and kick you out!”

“Feisty!”

“Go away you mangy cat!”

And he did, only after winking at her. Marinette pulled her phone out of her pocket to read the text she had missed earlier.

“Hey girl, I found a solution to our problem!” Alya had texted. What problem? She sighed and kept reading.

“Turns out Nino made plans with Adrien today too, but since neither of us wanted to cancel, we managed to convince Adrien’s dad to have a sleepover with all four of us at your house!”

Marinette quickly scrambled to reply.

“Are you insane? Adrien? In my room? Sleeping in the same space as me? I’m gonna faint!”

She didn’t even have enough time to prepare, because a knock at the door and a yell from her mother signaled it all.

Marinette looked around her room, at all the photos of Adrien, and all the hearts plastered around them.

She needed to clean.

A/N

Chapter two is OUT! What will happen when Marinette and Adrien are asleep in the same room? And will Marinette finally let the cat out of the bag? What will she do about Chat Noir?

Love you all,

~S :)

[supernaturaldesires]

A Descent Into Insanity - Chapter Seven

Based on request by @sweetpotato-97

Could ask for a fic of Yandere Dean with a reader who sees him as a best friend and a form of brother for them, of course in the beginning Dean was not a yandere but he changed with the passage of time?

Note: the reader in a way is innocent and does not know that Dean is in love with them.

Pairing: Yandere!Dean x Reader

Additional characters: Sam, Bobby, Castiel

Warnings: Death

Word Count: 1,580

“You son of a bitch!” you screamed at Dean as you launched yourself at him, fist raised and ready to swing. Dean ducked out of the way of your punch just in time, and hooked an arm around your waist. He held you against him, your back pressed against his chest. His other arm wrapped around your torso, pinning your arms to your side. “Let go of me!”

Sam took a step towards you, but Dean tutted at him. “Nuh-uh, Sammy,” he hissed. “Take another step and I swear I’ll snap her neck. If I can’t have her, no-one can.”

“Then I guess no-one’s having me,” you growled as you slammed your heel onto his foot and just as he buckled, you drove your elbow into his crotch. He released you, winded, and you darted forward towards Sam, out of Dean’s reach. 

As Dean began to gain his composure, he glared at you, shooting darts through his eyes. “You said we would be together,” he bellowed. “You said you were mine!” 

“You fucking drugged me, Dean!” You screamed back at him. “Again! Since when is that your answer when someone doesn’t agree with you?”

Dean lunged at you, but Sam was ready for him and tackled him to the ground. Even Bobby darted in front of you, ready to act as the second line of defence. Cas came to Sam’s aid in restraining the elder Winchester whilst Bobby guided you away. You took several steps backwards but couldn’t take your eyes off the man who you had considered to be your brother until just a few days ago.

“How has this happened, Bobby?” You whispered softly, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “What happened to him?”

Bobby sighed as he watched over Sam and Cas, who had now been able to restrain Dean to a chair with rope. “I wish I knew,” the older man murmured. You could see in his eyes that he was struggling with the scene himself. After all, he was like a father to Dean and Sam, and to witness your child become a threat to his own family is difficult for any parent to process.

“I can’t stay.” The words broke the silence that had hung in the air for the last hour. You, Sam and Bobby had been sat around the kitchen table, while Cas kept an eye on Dean. Since you had all seated at the table, you’d all waited for someone to speak; for someone to find the right words.

Sam lifted his sad eyes to you. “Y/N-” he said gently, but you stopped him. 

“No, Sam,” you insisted. “It’s the only way. You can’t kick Dean out, he’s still your brother. For whatever reason, he’s acting like this because of me. If I get as far away from him as possible, maybe he’ll forget about me.”

“You’re still family,” Sam argued. “We can find a way to sort this out.”

“And even if you did leave,” Bobby added. “There’s nothing to say he will forget you, that he won’t try and look for you. Obviously we’d do what we can, but we can’t exactly lock him up forever or keep him under 24-hour surveillance.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel safe around him anymore.” Your voice was beginning to crack as tears resurfaced. “And you’re right Bobby, we don’t know that he’ll forget about me.” You lifted your eyes to meet theirs, tears now rolling down your cheeks. “But I have a plan.” 

Dean’s POV

“What is going on with you, Dean?” Cas asked for the fifth time. Still, I didn’t answer him, keeping my gaze fixated on the floor. All I could think about was Y/N. Where was she? I needed to see her. I needed to apologize for threatening her before. If I could just talk to her, I could make her understand. “Dean!”

“Shut up, Cas!” I growled. “I’m not talking to anyone except Y/N!”

Cas got in my face, gripping my shoulders tight. “Damn it, Dean, something is happening to you. You need to tell me what is going on.”

“Nothing is going on!” I roared. “I just. Want. Y/N!” I fought against the restraints so hard that I nearly tipped the chair over, but Cas kept me upright. I glared at the angel until he finally gave up and sat in the chair opposite me. We both sat there unmoving, in complete silence, as the hours ticked by.

There was no clock in the room so I had no sense of how long had passed, but it must have been hours - perhaps even half a day. Where was Y/N? What if she had left? My fists balled and my throat clenched at the thought. If she had left, where would she go? She didn’t have any family besides us, I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for her. Suddenly my bedroom door flung open, interrupting my thoughts. Sam marched in first, but he didn’t even look at me. His eyes immediately fell on Cas and beckoned him to step outside. Where was Y/N? I craned my head, but they closed the door behind them. I screamed at the closed door in frustration.

Only a few moments passed before they re-entered; Sam first, followed by Cas, then eventually she glided in. Maybe it was prolonged amount of time away from her, but she looked more dazzling than ever. “Y/N,” I breathed with relief. “I’m so glad you’re safe, that you’re here. I was getting so worried. Look, I’m so sorry about-”

“Listen, Dean,” she said firmly, folding her arms and addressing me in a stern tone as though I was a child. “Whatever this is needs to end. This isn’t normal. This isn’t healthy.”

“Y/N, please let me explain,” I rasped. “I’m sorry about earlier, truly I am. Please understand that I love you. I realise this kind of love I’m feeling is different, but that doesn’t make it any less real.” I was beginning to shake with panic now. I couldn’t lose her. Not now, not after everything. “Please, let me prove myself to you.”

Y/N sighed and shook her head, a forlorn look on her face. “It’s too late for that, Dean,” she mumbled in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”

She began to approach me then and for a split second I had hope that she still felt something for me. Then I saw her hand reach behind and reveal a knife from the waistband of her jeans. “Y/N, what are you doing?” Panic began to flood through me. I looked desperately to Sam who looked equally panicked.

“Y/N, wait!” Sam yelled and launched himself at her, tackling her from behind. They came crashing down to my feet in a cacophony of shouts and groans. Then came a distinctive sound. A horrific, abrupt grunt.

Time seemed to stop for a moment. The air was still, as if not a soul in that room was breathing. “Cas, release me right now!” I demanded, not taking my eyes off my brother at my feet. His large body completely covered Y/N, I couldn’t see her small frame until he shakily came to his feet. It was only then that my eyes adjusted to the pool of blood that was seeping from her body.

My heart stopped beating, my throat constricted. I couldn’t breathe. “No,” I rasped, collapsing to my knees. With shaking hands, I turned her body to reveal the dagger protruding from her chest. “NO!” 

Your POV

“I’ll see you ‘round, Bobby,” you said thickly, trying desperately not to cry. 

The older man gave you a sympathetic smile as he pulled you into a tight hug. “Gonna miss you, kid,” he said softly. “Don’t be afraid to check in every now and again.” Once he released you, he opened your car door and you bundled yourself into the driver’s seat, throwing your duffel bag into the passenger side. “Oh, and Y/N?” You looked up at Bobby. “Using a shapeshifter to fake your death? That’s a mighty smart move. You’re a bright kid - it’s almost scary sometimes. Although, I have to admit that having him bring the knife out on Dean was pretty risky.”

“I know, but if my death was in Dean’s defence, he can’t hold it against Sammy. He might be pissed to begin with, but he’ll understand eventually why Sam would come to his defence. It had to be an accident, otherwise Dean would find someone to blame, to hold a grudge against.”

Bobby shrugged with a grunt as he closed your car door. Winding down your window, you gave Bobby a fist-bump before you pulled away. You were less than a mile away from the Bunker when your phone pinged with a message; just one word from David: “Done.”

After you and the Winchesters had helped David find his brother’s killer a few years back, he had insisted that he owed you a favour, should you ever need it. Sam and Dean didn’t bother taking the guy’s number, but you did. You were never sure you would ever actually need it, but you figured it didn’t hurt to have a few tricks up your sleeve should the time ever come. 

Heading nowhere in particular, you cranked up the volume of your radio and let the wind and the smell of gasoline sooth your worries as you drove into the sunset.

-FIN-

<= Chapter Six

Dean tags: @akshi8278​, @maniacproffesor​

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics