#i thought i’d have to wait at LEAST 4 more months for facial hair

[ace-of-drakes]

who knew all it’d take to get that sweet gender euphoria was more hair

[morganayenneferburnham]

Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angel Roll their Eyes

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

Chapter 4: The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hey there! So this took me a bit longer than expected but here it is! I should probably mention that it's an angsty one. Sorry. I hope you guys enjoy it. I'd love to get some feedback :)

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

She woke that morning wishing she didn’t have to leave her room for the rest of the month. That was going to be difficult, however. Kaz would come to drag her out himself if he had to. She knew he would. It was probably best to avoid angering him any further. He had made his anger quite clear the night before.

---

Kaz had sent everyone away for the night after having heard their reports and studying the plans for a few more minutes. His gloved fingers had wrapped themselves tightly around her wrist when she’d tried to slip past him.

“Can you get the job done? Or do I have to worry I’ll lose my corporalnik to a king?” His voice had been heavy with disdain.

“Of course, I can do the job, Kaz! How long have I been working for you?” she’d felt panic rise in her, making her nauseous.

“I’ve known Jesper even longer. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t disappointed me.” He snickered. “You haven’t answered my question, Y/N.” The way he’d said her name had sent a shiver down her spine. It had been a barely hidden warning.

“Kaz…” her voice had broken. Would he send me back to Tante Ingrid? She simply couldn’t tell.

“Start tailoring Nikolai and yourself back. I’ll see you in the morning. Do not be late.”

She’d spent the next 3 hours tailoring the king, who threatened to ruin her life by occupying her every thought, and then herself. Nikolai had at least had the decency to stay quiet this time around. She had been far from done when they’d called it a night, but she’d judged it would be enough to keep Kaz off her back.

---

Y/N got ready quickly, keeping Kaz’s warning in mind. She shrugged off her nightgown. She’d slept terribly. She pulled her white shirt over her head, tucking it in the pants she’d chosen for the day. Her mind kept travelling back to Nikolai’s kiss and Kaz’s terrifying fury. She loosely tied the strings at her shirt’s collar, letting the delicate bow rest on her chest. Her brain seemed to be stuck playing both moments repeatedly. It was ridiculous. Nikolai had only kissed her to keep up the act. There was no reason to jeopardize her place with the crows over something so meaningless. So why couldn’t her mind stop bringing it up?

When she finally reached the music room that currently served as their boss’ office, Inej sent her a look of pity from her perch on Kaz’s armchair. Great, she thought, Kaz is still mad.

Jesper and Wylan were lounging, limbs tangled, on a small couch. She nodded to them, returning their greetings, making her way to the opened glass-paneled doors leading to the garden. She watched Marya Hendriks paint while they waited for Nikolai and Zoya to join them. The older woman was working on a beautiful landscape of the Geldcanal. Y/N focused whole-heartedly on the paintbrush strokes letting them erase the memories of the previous night from her mind as they went. She knew it wasn’t permanent, the problem would still exist once Marya stopped painting, but it brought her comfort for the time being.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, your royal highness” Kaz’s raspy voice brought her back to the present. His rage and disdain were barely leashed. She turned in time to catch the surprised look on Nikolai’s face. She might have thought it was funny if she wasn’t so scared of what Kaz could do.

“Good morning, are my general and I late?” Nikolai schooled his feature into a charming grin. “Though, you know, I was under the impression that Kings couldn’t be late, everyone else is simply early.”

Just when Y/N thought it was impossible, Kaz’s eyes darkened further. Nikolai had managed to make him angrier somehow. Kaz sneered, “You are late.” They were in for a horrible day.

The air felt colder than it had a few minutes prior to the Ravkans’ arrival. Kaz continued, “The first part of the job was a success. However, that was the easy part.” He sent a pointed look her way. “The next part will require everyone to follow the plan to the letter.”

She flinched. Kaz isn’t mad. He is livid. She moved away from the open doors opting to take place on the arm of the couch where Wylan and Jesper were still lounging. Jesper reached for her, letting his hand rest on her thigh, giving it a small squeeze as if he felt her distress. She was thankful for that small gesture. It would help her endure Kaz’s wrath.

“I still need time to figure everything out. These blueprints do give us the layout of the factory and the warehouse, but we still don’t have the guards’ rounds schedule. We’ll also need to find out the shipment schedule.”

Inej interrupted him “I’ll take care of that. Just keep planning, I do quite enjoy your scheming face.” Y/N always loved getting a glimpse of their relationship. It was always subtle, but they clearly did love each other. It was endearing how much they did.

Kaz’s features seemed to soften a bit at that. “Of course, my darling. Perhaps General Nazyalensky can be of some assistance.”

Zoya nodded. “Sure, we’ll get you the information. Just make sure we have a way out with the plans and the prototypes we need.”

Kaz nodded and turned back to Y/N his gaze cold and hard. “You’re not done with your tailoring.” It wasn’t a question, it was a critic. She felt a chill travel down her back. “You have to finish this morning before either of you can leave the house.” He considered her for a moment. “Use your room. We can’t risk a servant seeing you like this.”

-----

They’d left the room a few minutes later. Y/N leading the way to her room at the Hendriks mansion. She had been quiet, practically ignoring him the whole way. Only turning to him once to check if he was following her. Her brows were furrowed. Nikolai wasn’t sure if she was mad at him or scared. Scared of what? Me? Or Brekker?

Nikolai now watched her from his seat at the end of the bed as she readied her tailoring kit. She had tailored her body back the night before, but she still had ways to go before she was sporting her beautiful features again. She had her back turned to him, her olive pants hugging the soft curves of her hips just right. Nikolai’s mind kept travelling back to the night before and the outfit the Grisha had chosen for the day wasn’t helping him at all. He wanted to rest his hands on her hips and pull her body to his. He wanted to feel her comforting curves pressed against him, closer than they had been the night before, the fabric of her skirt no longer in the way.

He watched her finally settle in front of the mirrored desk, raising her hands to her face. He was glad she was starting with herself. It would give him time to gain full control of his brain again. He observed the careful movements of her fingers for what felt like hours. He was grateful for the time she’d bought him, until he saw her face as she made her way to him. He couldn’t help but glance at her full lips. He wondered just how different it would feel to kiss her now. Saints, I forgot just how naturally gorgeous she was. The urge to pull her closer was threatening to overwhelm him.

“So, I guess I’m only undoing my own tailoring? Not Genya Safin’s? You still need to look like Sturmhond.” She sounded guarded.

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle how handsome I really look.” He saw her jaw tick. Saints, what a stupid thing to say. And why did I wink at her again? She’s obviously uncomfortable.

He watched her carefully as she came to a stop, standing between his thighs. Nikolai could feel his heart hammering in his chest. She was standing so close he worried she could hear it. If she did, she made no mention of it. “This is gonna hurt. Tell me if you need a break.” She sounded determined; all traces of her previous insecurity gone. He only nodded, not trusting his voice with her standing so close to him, her floral scent drifting his way due to the soft breeze coming from the open window.

Her fingers were surprisingly cold against his skin. He felt the familiar itch of tailoring as she started before the pain of bone remodeling fully settled in. He tried to stay as still as possible, focusing on the concentration etched in the girl’s features instead of the pain. He felt her set his jaw back, making sure Sturmhond’s characteristically pointed chin was just right. She had made a few adjustments the night before, but she hadn’t done any major alterations. He kept watching her as she set the rest of his face back. Her shirt had slipped dangerously lower on her chest as she worked. The small bow coming lose. It was driving Nikolai completely crazy. He wanted to reach out and finish untying the damned strings. He didn’t think he could take much more of this absolute torture. She was almost done with reworking the bone when he saw her bite her bottom lip, completely lost in her work. He was about to finally lose the last sliver of decency he had been holding on to for the last hour when she straightened up suddenly. She backed away to take in her work.

“I think that should be it for facial structure. I’ll work on your eyes next, and I’ll finish with your hair.” She seemed more at ease now. Whatever had been bothering her almost forgotten.

She took her place back between his legs reaching up to his face once more. Her fingers came to rest on his cheek.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was a mistake.” Nikolai blurted out. He could’ve sworn he saw hurt flash in Y/N’s beautiful green eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He must have imagined it. He saw her straighten her spine, her shoulders tensing up.

“Whatever, we got out. We got the job done. It doesn’t matter.” Any scrap of ease she’d gained was gone as she turned her back to him, taking a few steps towards the mirrored desk. Why did you have to open your mouth? Nikolai Nothing. Nikolai the Bastard. Pretender. Nikolai the fool. He had clearly upset her.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you. Brekker told me you worked at one of the pleasure houses before… I just – I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

She whirled back towards him. Fury burning in her deep green eyes. “He had no right.” she hissed. Her rage melted quickly however, leaving her looking panicked. Nikolai saw her hands start to shake before she clenched her fists.

Another blunder. “He only told me because I asked about your tattoo.” Her hand flew to the bare skin of her arm hiding the iris burned into her skin from him. I am only making it worse, he realized. I should really learn to stop talking so much.

She lowered her head. “He’s going to send me back.” Her voice was trembling. She sounded absolutely terrified at the idea. Nikolai wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her. Why would she think that? Surely Brekker wouldn’t do that. She’s a corporalnik. If Brekker is actually stupid enough to part with such a gifted Grisha, she could have a place with the Second Army. She could have a place in Ravka… She could have a place with me.

“You could–” Nikolai didn’t get to finish his sentence. Inej had opened the door and walked in carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

“Figured, you two were probably hungry!” Her warm smile faltered when she saw Y/N’s expression. “Everything alright?”

“Thank you Inej. You are absolutely right!” She laughed; all traces of her panic gone. “I’m starving. I could eat a stack of waffles as tall as you!” A talented corporalnik and actress, Nikolai thought.

-----

tagged: @power-of-words23

[simpingfortheages]

//COME STAY HERE WITH ME//

Sally Mckenna x fem reader

(SUSPENSE, FLUFF if you squint, ANGST, has a twist )

Promises aren't words without meaning. They leave a mark on your soul you need to fulfill.

The reader just isn't ready to make such a big commitment. Sally doesn't approve or believe her and she is determined to change that.

~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~

"Sally I love you of course I do. I will come back soon, i promise but you seriously cannot expect me to stay here forever" I argued with her as I hurriedly pack my carryon with unfolded clothes. Sally sat silently on the bed dwelling in her own thoughts. I could feel her sharp eyes bore into the back of my head as i maneuvered my way around the small room collecting my things. She didn't speak after i made that statement, no she just looked upon my sloppy movements .

The atmosphere in the room was stifling, the air was stale of sex and cigarette smoke. I was choking on the suspense of what Sally was going to do. I know she would never kill me, she promised me that. I was almost done packing when I turned around,only to meet her towering figure standing right behind me. She was a hair's width away. " I really wished you'd stay" she said in raspy low octave . There was not a door or window open to let a draft in, that was because it was her voice that sent shivers running and prickling along my spine. " I will come back to you very soon. I promise Sally" I replied to her, with a lack of commitment in my voice. Sally has managed to keep me stuck in the Cotez for 4 months. My family misses me, my job , my house was all waiting for me at home. I love Sally I really do, but I just wasn't ready. Sally slowed squinted her eyes at my response as though she was analyising each piece of word that left my mouth. I gave her a nervous side smile before I bent down to zip up my carryon. As I gathered my bag I made my way hesitantly toward the door. I felt as though Sally could read my mind. She may be a ghost but she doesn't have the special ability to read minds.

The humidity and tension in the room,caused beads to sweat to form and roll down the side of my face, the sticky and disgusting feeling of my shirt sticking to my armpits and my back didn't make my situation any easier. I squeezed my eyes tightly to try and get rid of the on coming headache, my stomach was churning. It was getting hard to breathe at this point. I gripped the copper handle of the hotel door and slowed turned it to make my way out of the room. *SLAM* the door was shut. I blinked a few times to understand what just happened. I looked at the door only to see a black chipped nail polished hand pressing firmly against it. My suspicions were confirmed. It was Sally who shut the door. The coldness from her close proximity radiated off her ghost form, but the breathe I felt on the nape of my neck was warm and inviting. Sally was really close. I didn't even realised my breathe was held, I was making myself feel faint just by her being close to me. I didn't have to turn around and face Sally since she was already leaning over my fraile form . She moved herself closer to place her red messy lipstick lips near my right ear. " You really didn't think I'd let you leave..." Sally began whispering in my ear. I didn't let her finish her sentence, she was cut off from the loud release of shakey breathe I was previously holding. Fuck! Sally was going to kill me right here and now I thought. Her soft frizzy hair was brushing my sweaty hot face, but the way my body was reacting didn't affect her. Sally wouldn't care if i were covered in blood so why would sweat deter her. She was nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck, without thinking I closed my eyes and leaned into her. The gentle kisses that she left upon my neck each sent small electrical pulses down to my stomach. She knew what she was doing. " like I was saying y/n,you really didn't think I'd let you leave....without your phone?" She said in a teasing manner as she pushed the device into my hands. Sally angled her head even closer to the side of my face , my facial expression was one of relief. However my heart still said otherwise, the rapid palpitation of each beat could have been heard if not for the muffled sound of traffic on the streets outside. It took me a while to find my words of gratitude, but Sally was patient. She continued to stare and admire the every twitch and subtle movement my face made. I couldn't bring myself to meet her hopeful eyes. Her eyes held a wanting future with me at the Cortez, she spoke many time how the least painful way to kill me was like Overdose with the use of her white China...but I didn't want any of that. I love Sally. Just not to death. Her body was now pressed against me, it was not one of a sexual manner just one to give the feeling that I was her prey and she was the predator.

Sally does scare me. No one knows the extent that she will go to keep something or someone she wants, there's no real way to stop a ghost such as herself. I forced myself to mumble a thank you, which would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for her face being so close to mine. Sally only replied with a soft pur, she really knew what she was doing because my toes curled at the erotic sound the woman made . We stayed in this position for a couple more seconds but not before Sally moved closer to my neck and licked a wet strip along the side of it. A pathetic whimper ripped it's way from my throath into the still air of the room. She swiftly removed her palm from the door allowing me to leave. My body was flustered and longed for more contact with Sally. She has me wrapped around her finger and boy did she know that. I wasn't going to throw myself into her arms, this time I am committed to leaving the Cotez. As I opened the door to exit, the warm air from the hallway came rushing in to mix with the cold air that was created inside the room. I turned around to wish Sally goodbye....but she was gone. I couldn't feel her presence anymore in the room. Maybe she was else where. The walk to the elevator was a long one, I tried to look down each corridor to see if she was lingering near by. No luck.

Did she not miss me? Will she move onto someone else?. As the elevator doors opened my thoughts were interuppted. The lobby was empty, no Liz and Iris arguing. The help desk just sat there in silence. I fumbled with my bags waking towards the exit. A feeling of unwanted and doubt returned in my stomach. Was this the right choice? I have already made it this far. I have been trying to leave the Hotel for the past 2 weeks. I furrowed my eyebrows at the thought of me succumbing to my weakness . No. I am going to leave. I will return to visit Sally, of course I will, but I just couldn't stay here forever. I took a deep breath, the cold icey air filled my lungs giving me a new sense of confidence. I marched my way towards the exit, taking one last look at the place I called me home for the past months.

I was almost to the door when i felt a sudden drop in temperature. The hairs at the back of my neck was now alert. The silence was in room was filed with Crying??? I turned my heels and saw her standing in the middle of the lobby with black tears running down her porcelain face. My heart broke at the sight. "YOU'RE REALLY LEAVING ME??" Sally screamed into the quietness of.the lobby. I visibly flinched at the level her voice raised, I opened my mouth and basically explained to Sally that it was only going to be for a while and that I would return to the Cortez and that I do love her. Her face that was once filled with hurt and anger was slowly replaced with confusion but slight understanding. The pout her bottom lip did and the way her brown doe eyes looked at me, made me drop my carryon. I

impulsively ran towards Sally and enveloped my arms around her. She immediately returned the hug, while I nudged my face into her chest as she rested her head upon my head. Sally felt like home but there was still so much for me to do outside the Hotel.

Her embrace was like poison to me yet it was the antidote at the same time. Time seemed to not exist at this exact moment. I felt Sally turn her head and rest her cheek on the top of my head trying to get as close to me as possible. Even though almost every night for 4 months we cuddled like this, I will never get enough of it. However, I really needed to get going, I loosened my grip around her waist in hopes of her understanding to let go, but she remained hugged me in her arms. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, " Sally baby let go" I requested, my voice was still kind of muffled since my face was basically pressed against the material of her dress. Sally silence my request with an elongated shush, as she increased the hold she had around my body. It was getting hard to even breathe, Sally was basically smothering me . I wedged my hands between our bodies and pressed the heels of my palm into her chest . Trying to push myself away with everything I have to break free of her deadly hold. At this point the only think that filled my nose and lungs were the cheap perfume Sally wore that her victim's brought with them to the Hotel. "SALLY WHAT THE FUCK LET GO" I screamed. I wiggled and started to hyperventilate still fighting her. Sally didn't budge. "GOD SALLY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WIT-" ....no....she wouldn't . She said she wouldn't. My mind was going haywire at the thought. I stopped fighting against her and let my arms drop to the side. What the fuck??? There it was again. A sharp burning sensation in my back. It was hurting to breathe at this point. The pain was unbareable, sounds of agony and pain escaped my throath as hot tears cascaded down my face. The combination of the pain in my back and the difficulty to breathe was too much for me. Sally's grip around me was now loose enough for me to shove her off and step back. I felt weak, my knees buckled and gave out, I fell to the floor landing on my knees. The new angle allowed me to get a good view of Sally. She was smiling with joy, tear of happiness running down her face. The bitch welded a fucking kitchen kife covered in crimson blood,not just any blood. It was my blood .Sally Mckenna stabbed me in my back . My lover was planning on killing me. The wounds she created started poured a bloody waterfall down my back and onto the floor.

Sally smiled even bigger at the sight, she had this glint of something in her eyes. I couldn't tell what it was but my blood or whatever was still left in me began to boil. I hated Sally so much right now. There's no way in hell am I going to die in this fucking Hotel and be stuck here with her for all eternity. I gritted my teeth in pain and forced myself to push Sally onto the ground. It may not have been much but she fell back on the carpeted floor. This gave me time to turn on my knees and crawl towards to exit of the Cotez,to make quicker haste of my actions, I dropped down flat onto my stomach and tired to army crawl my way out of here. I craned my head backwards to see where Sally was but she was already back on her feet, the look of anger and annoyance was casted upon her face. I never stopped crawling away from her, the carpet that decorated the floor was now covered in a trail of my blood, my elbows were getting carpet burn but i didn't care. I heard the movements of Sally shifting behind me,she could have stopped me a long time now,but she just wanted to stand there and look down at me. It was sick. Her heel clicks were muffled into the floor, as they got closer. I screamed for help non stop, she didn't like that I was getting closer to the door. Sally grabbed me by my ankles pulling me away from my freedom. I tried to kick her away but my body was too weak. My nails were breaking and bleeding as I scratch along the carpet trying to grab hold of anything. I cried out in pain but Sally didn't care, " oh baby no come stay here with me" she cooed trying to calm me down. She managed to drag me away from the door. I knew if I even escaped her hold I wouldn't make the distance. So I cried, the adrenaline that was coarsing through my blood was now decreasing. My heart beat was soft and my eye lids were heavy. Sally parted her legs and pulled me flush against her chest. My back wounds made rough contact with her but I was too weak to even hiss. She was cruel, Sally sat me in such a way that I had clear view of the door.

I could see it, the sun shining down on all the people who walked the streets, the cars the hurriedly drove pass the Hotel . I detested the sight. I could have been one of those people who went about living their life. I was no longer crying, the tear tracks on my face were fresh but no more followed. Sally repated kissed the side of my temple whispering silent I love you's. I zoned her out at this point. If i was going to die in the Cortez that doesn't mean I have to interact with her. I hate you Sally. I hate you. "Y/N?" Sally spoke, breaking my silent brooding. I didn't acknowledge her but she knew she had my attention. " I'm going to speed up the process, so we can be together even faster" I ignored her, there was nothing more i could do. Sally gripped the knife that was covered in my blood and quickly slashed it across my neck. My eyes went wide. All i saw was red. My lungs quickly filled with my own blood, the only taste that painted my tongue was metallic. I cried for help but blood gushed its way out instead. My body began to feel prickly and cold. So this is how it felt to die. My vision became blurred, the doorway of the hotel was now unrecognizable. " close your eyes baby I am here...I will be here went you are awake" Sally whispered into my ears as she held me tighter. I complied, I closed my eyes and felt all the warmth slowly leave my body. This is how I died. I died by the hands and embrace of my so called ghost lover.

~~~~~~~time skip ~~~~~~~

I groaned as I stirred awake, I couldn't see properly but I could feel a weight on my chest,but it wasn't uncomfortable. I needed to blink a couple of times to clear my vision. I knew I was back in the Hotel but where was I exactly ? Apparently my shifting cause the weight on my chest to be lifted. I looked down and saw that it was Sally who was resting on me. My vision was still a little blurry, but i could have seen that she was smiling at me with her red bottom lip tuck away under her teeth. I tried to move but Sally moved her hand that was resting on my thigh and pressed it against my bare chest,shoving me back down onto the mattress. It dawned on me that I was completely naked,expect for the fact that I was wearing her leopard print coat. She saw the perplexed look on my face and answered the question in my head. "Your clothes were bloody, so I showered and wrapped you up in my coat.". I looked around and now realised that we back in her apartment. Room 64. I had so many questions, I wanted to yell at her but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a soft "why?..." She looked at me with admiration and love. Her hands were wondering all over my naked body, ghosting over all my moles and scars. " You were going to break your promise, I just made sure you fulfilled it." She said in a matter of fact tone.

Sally punctuated the sentence with a kiss upon my chest. "You stabbed me and slit my throath why that way?" I further questioned the ghost. " You needed to hurt Y/N like how you hurt me , but it's all okay now because we are the same and we have each other" Sally justified . She moved to straddle me and cup my face as she recited the statement. Her forehead was now pressed against mine, and I could have felt the warmth of her breathe brushing across my face. Sally kissed me, but the kiss was not one of love ,it was one of fulfillment. She got what she wanted. Sally slipped her tongue pass my lips to deepened the kiss, I could hear the change in her breathing. It was loud and heavy. She was created a heated kiss, but I couldn't allow that to happen right now.

So i took my hands to shove her off of me.*CLINK* what the fuck??? I cut off Sally's kiss to turn my head and see what was the reason for the sound . My right hand was handcuffed to the bed. Sally looked down at my chest smirking as she rubbed her hands up and down from my chest up to my neck. She was ignoring the look of concern that was painted on my face. "Sally what the fuck??? Uncuff me" I demanded. All she did was laugh at my words. Sally crawled further up my body and played with the curls of my hair with her index finger. " no" was all she said. "What do you mean no??" I raged. Her patience was running thin now, her smile transformed into a scowl. Her hands gripped and dug into my jaw, " You are dead so that means you don't need food,you don't need sleep, you no longer need the requirements of the living."she spat her words out like it was venom. "You think I don't know you baby?"She continued, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes shifted from between my lips and my eyes every few seconds. " You cannot escape me and I am not going to let you avoid me" she finished. I was scrambling for words," wha-i but- sally you cannot keep me chained here" my voice was lowered this time, I spoke softly trying to get on her good side." I know baby but when you come back to me and understand that what i did was for us, I will uncuff you." Sally kissed my forehead and returned to her previous position of lying down on top of me. Her head was resting on my heart ,but I doubt she would be able to hear a beat. Silence surrounded the both of us, I tilted my head backwards hitting the bedrest with a soft thud. I accepted that this was now my faith and my future. My eyes were glued to the ceiling, taking in the smallest details, eventually focusing on the small cobweb being built in the corner. Sally whispered softly into the peaceful silence " y/n my love next time you should remember that promises are not just words spoken."

[spvce-cowboy]

the hero’s shoulders

ch. 5 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x f!reader)

previous- ch. 4: “songbird” 

next- ch. 6: “two suns”

rating: explicit

6.2k words

warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, oral sex f-receiving, unprotected PIV sex (don’t do that!!!), cum eating, slight choking, very soft, then rough, then soft again, both parties are not good at communicating

a/n: i feel so incredibly grateful for all the responses i’ve been seeing from you all--thank you all for being patient & i hope you enjoy !! chapter title inspired by “snow and dirty rain” by richard siken.

**

“Din.” The word sounds fresh and light coming off your tongue. And there it is, hanging between the two of you, his name. There’s a flurry of movement in the pit of your stomach. You take a breath and push forward. “Din Djarin, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

His hand quickly lowers to brace over the back of your neck again. He traces the corner of your jaw with his thumb. The song on the radio continues its lament of promises, the female vocalist releasing a breathy devotion that fills the space of the hull.

“I’ve,” he clears his throat. You’ve been around him long enough to recognize he does that when he’s nervous. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Is it against the rules?” You try to hide your surprise with a question, grateful for his hand still pressed against your skin. His need to still touch you, despite the topic, feels like a small reassurance.  

“No, no it isn’t. Technically.”

“Okay,” the word leaves you quietly. At a loss for what to do after that, you stay exactly where you are, face tilted up towards his, lips slightly parted.

And then there are lips pressing against yours. Warm and hesitant at first, but when you begin to kiss him back—a part of you so shocked and thrilled you can barely process that it’s happening holy shit it’s happening—they quickly move against your own with a fervor unlike anything you’d ever been lucky enough to experience.

You break away, catching your breath. “Mando—I—Din, can I—your hair?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, impatiently leaning back down to capture your mouth against his once more. Your fingers eagerly tangle in his hair as his arms seal back around your body to crush you against his chest. It’s longer than you expected, slightly tangled with dried sweat but soft. You catch the edge of his bottom lip with your teeth, tugging at it in a small taunt. Din growls something low in his throat, pulling you impossibly closer.

He follows your lead, ever the good student, pressing his tongue into your mouth, tasting you before pulling back and coyly retracing your lips with his own. He’s far better at teasing than you are. Maybe his restraint shouldn’t come as a surprise, but you want him. You’ve chased enough, held back enough. You feel him smile against you, sensing your frustration.

The kiss eventually eases into something slow. Languid. You take your time with each other, until your breathing slows, until it no longer feels like your chest is about to burst.

Din pulls back, holding the back of your neck again as he curves to roll his forehead against yours in a lazy nuzzle. “Need you,” it’s a hoarse whisper. He audibly swallows, just the tips of his fingers tracing the edge where the makeshift blindfold meets the skin of your cheek. “Pel kar’ta. I’ve—” he cuts himself off, unable to continue for a reason you don’t know. “Please.”

You nod without hesitation. Then there is a hand against your ass, the other reaching for the back of your good knee. Once he gets the proper grip, Din lifts you up so your belly presses against his chest. Your squeak of surprise quickly transforms into a giggle as Din kisses you again, your legs immediately wrapping around his torso. You lock your ankles together to keep yourself in place.

Din is now the one to tilt his head back for you, holding you up with both arms as he carefully walks forward. You don’t think you’ve ever been in a situation where you’re the one looking down. It fills you with a feeling of power you aren’t expecting, snaking one of your hands over the crown of his head to grab a fistful of his hair and pulling, pulling his face back even further to deepen the kiss.

He only breaks from you when he stops walking, pressing two more kisses against the length of your neck before loosening his grip slightly. Taking the hint, you unwrap your legs from around his waist and allow him to ease you back onto the floor.

You blindly reach out a hand, trying to figure out where he’s carried you. He takes it, gently tugging you forward.

“In here,” he says. “Watch your step.”

It’s his quarters, you can tell by the smell of it alone. Sweat and musk and leather. The oil he uses to care for his armor. In all your months on board, you had only ever set foot inside his bunk to give him the new blanket you bought him. Besides that, all you’d seen of the room was captured in stolen glances when the he left the door cracked open.

His room held the same lingering objectivity of seeing his facial razors in the bathroom, a quiet reminder that he isn’t just a figure from some fearsome legend. Wasn’t just metal and blaster residue. There was something impossibly soft under it all. Defiantly human.

And now you were here. Now he has led you here.

Just the feeling of his hand holding yours in this space, in his space, felt like a new kind of intimacy. Like you were being invited into something with a depth you could not possibly understand. Where your feet would never touch the ground.

Was it all coming a bit fast? Yes. Were you worried about that? Also yes. But then his hands are snaking around your waist again and you couldn’t possibly care less. You fist your hands into the front of his shirt, bringing him back down to you.

His hands continue their drift over your body. You don’t dare interrupt his exploration, savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. Smoothing his hands over the sides of your torso, he slips his fingers under your shirt, pushing the worn fabric up to dance the tips of his fingers over your stomach. They continue up, over your ribs, just barely grazing your skin.

You think he’s teasing you, playing coy, until he breaks your kiss to rest his forehead against yours. His breathing his hard, slightly pained. It feels like he’s reining something in, trying to talk himself down while tracing looping circles over the skin of your lower ribs.

“We can stop if you need to take it slow,” your eyebrows knit together, the movement only partially visible with the swath of fabric covering your eyes.

“No,” Din nuzzles his forehead against yours. “No I just…”

“You can touch me however you want,” your voice is low, a hoarse whisper. “I’m not fragile. You don’t have to worry about me.”

And he grabs you, crushing your body against his again, palms flat over the length of your bare back. It feels completely different without the barrier of fabric between the two of you. You sink into him again, gladly, as his hands slide down your body again, firm and assured this time. He pushes the waistband of your sleep shorts down a fraction of an inch, definitely teasing you this time.

His fingers trace the lines of the underwear you’re wearing. “What’s is this?”

“Oh, it’s… it’s the only undergarment that worked with the dress Febhana leant me. There would be,” suddenly his lips are scraping against your neck and you let out an unintentional sigh, head lolling back to give him better access. The next words are difficult to muster, “oh… lines in the fabric, otherwise. Something about…” you give a moan as he nips at your ear. The feeling of his hands sliding against your bare hips alone is enough to render you unintelligible.

And then he retreats. In the moment, it’s a loss so great you can’t help but give a quiet whimper. His mouth seals over yours, briefly, in assurance.

“Give me a second, pel kar’ta,” his voice is all gravel and honey. Dark liquor and the warmth of a hearth.

You nod, licking yours lips and keeping your back against the wall of the room. You hear him leave the quarters then return, the rustle of fabric tells you he’s doing something with the bunk.

You play with the edge of your nightshirt as you wait for him to finish adjusting the bed, grateful for the blindfold in concealing at least a little bit of the shyness you are certain is plainly evident, regardless if he could see your eyes or not. You try to say your next words as casually as possible, too curious not to ask. “Have you done this before?”

He pauses whatever he’s trying to fix. “What?”

“I just, um… since I was your first kiss I thought maybe…”

The gorgeous sound of his laugh almost makes up for the heat of embarrassment that has quickly spread from your face to your chest. The sound of it is small, but it’s something totally relaxed. You can picture him shaking his head in that amused way he does when his helm is on.

You feel his hands slide around your waist, pulling you against him again in order to steal another kiss, despite the fact that his chest is still shaking slightly with amusement. You eventually can’t help but laugh against his mouth too.

“I’ve… you don’t have to worry about that, gentle girl,” he murmurs. You feel his fingers brushing alongside your cheek. There’s a low growl to his voice that gives a definitive answer to your original question. The dull pulse at your center quickly turns into an indescribable ache.

Din picks you up again, effortlessly placing you back on the edge of his bunk. You immediately recognize the blanket beneath you as one of your own. Your chest fills with a warmth when you realize how he is trying to make you as comfortable as possible. It was one of many small intimacies you would have never expected from the bounty hunter when you first found him.

Up on the bunk like this, the two of you are eye level. You wrap your legs back around him, kissing his neck as you pull his shirt up. He takes the hint, leaning away slightly to pull it off. You’ve stitched up enough of his cuts and bruises to know the territory well—you basically had it memorized at this point—but you’ve never had opportunity to take your time with it.

Your thumbs explore the lines of his abdomen, the light trail of hair leading down...

And oh.

Like, you had a feeling it would. There’s something about the domineering attitude of him in his suit that just radiates a kind of confidence of someone who does. But oh.

You palm the rigid length of him through his pants, gasping into his open mouth when he starts to lift your shirt, the pads of his thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts. You quickly pull away to take it off, tossing it to the ground and reaching out to pull him back to you. He stops you with a hand at your bicep. You lower your arms slowly.

Taking the hint, you rest your hands on the mattress behind you, biting your lip as you let him look at you. Swallowing, you try to calm your breathing so your chest doesn’t move so rapidly with each inhale. It doesn’t work.

“Maker,” he breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” His hands cup your waist as he presses his lips to your shoulder, his next words barely a whisper against your skin. “I’ve waited so long to tell you that.”

And he’s kissing your neck again, the scrape of his unshaven face against your pulse is enough for your eyes to roll back into your skull, a tingling feeling running through the column of your spine.

You grab the back of his head again, forcing his lips back to yours as you recline onto the bed behind you. He follows your lead, smoothly climbing onto the bunk to cover you with his body. The feeling of his bare chest pressed against you is at once grounding and surreal. It lasts for a fleeting moment, until his lips break from yours and begin to retrace what they had started not moments earlier, licking against the pulse in your neck, a gentle nip at the curve of your clavicle, another wet kiss where your heart is beating, all too fast, in your chest.

When his mouth envelopes your nipple, your back arches off the mattress with a gasp. He slides his tongue over its sharp peak, lazily sucking it before moving onto the other.

By the time Din has traced his patient trail down the length of your body, you’re literally panting, lifting your pelvis in desperate search for his hips—for something, anything, to move against. You feel him shift back, his fingers resting on the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Is this okay?” There’s a tinge of a warbling weakness to his voice. Like his slow process was just as taxing on him as it was for you. As if, asshole.

“Please, Din,” you’re so wound up you don’t even care that your words come out as an unabashed whine. His hands quickly remove the last pieces of clothing off your body, both the shorts and your underwear being rolled down your legs and thrown to the floor with a soft thump. He pauses for a moment, there. Now understanding his process, you let him.

Breathing just as hard as you are, Din fits the curve of his palm to the back of your good knee, pressing another kiss to your calf as he gently bends your knee towards your torso. The stretch of it only adds to the pulsing ache at your center, and you readily mirror his motion with your other leg. He kisses, licks, and nips his way up the length of your leg.

You’re genuinely shaking by the time you feel his lips against the soft space between your inner thigh and your cunt. He laps the skin of that small space as he guides both your legs to hook over his shoulders.

Desperate for contact, you try to shift your pelvis to find his mouth yourself. Din’s hands seal over the backs of your thighs, keeping them spread and immobile. You make a whimpering sound you can’t control. He might have just given a small smile against you. You couldn’t possibly process it if he did.

Din presses the tip of his tongue at your entrance, dragging it over the length of your slit in one fluid motion. To describe what you see behind your eyelids as sparks wouldn’t even begin to capture it. You’re practically incoherent, hands fisted in his hair, using your legs to press down on his back in order to beg him to continue.

Circling your clit with the flat of his tongue, he uses the tips of his fingers to tease your entrance, gathering your wetness at an agonizingly slow pace.

You press your cheek into the pillow—it’s one of yours, some far, detached part of your brain vaguely recognizes, the fabric soft and familiar against your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you give another moan, the barely coherent plead of “please, Din, please” leaving your lips without thought.

And he pushes a finger into you, first one and then two. Both are slightly hooked, dragging a devastatingly line of pure pleasure onto your inner wall. The sound it makes is so obscene you nearly come from that alone. The gasp you give is nearly a sob, grinding your cunt against his face to urge him to keep going.

Din fucks his fingers into you as his tongue increases its pace. For seconds or minutes you have no idea, it feels like you’d lost control of the ability to speak hours ago. Without warning, something deep in your stomach pulls painfully tight.

You’re barely able to recognize what’s about to happen before your orgasm snaps through your body. You can’t muffle the strangled sound that leaves you, reflexively trying to close your legs as you ride through it. He keeps them pressed open with both hands, gently lapping at your clit as you shake with what feels like your own muscles twisting around themselves.

He expertly draws the orgasm out, keeping the rhythm of his fingers and his tongue at a steady pace. You’re practically a puddle by the time the last pulses of it go through you, his tongue working at your raw bundle of nerves until you flinch away with a whimper. Din pulls away, gently kissing your inner thigh as he eases your legs back down.

Still panting, you impatiently pull him back up to you, shaky hands messily working to push his pants down. He pulls away for a fraction of a second to pull them off for you, then plants a forearm beside your head so he can hover over you again.

Your hand almost goes to cradle his face but you catch yourself before you can, quickly pushing it back through his hair to push his face back down to you. You take your time, tasting the wetness still coating his chin, dragging your teeth over his bottom lip before resuming the kiss. The moan he gives into your mouth is electric. A flock of birds takes flight in the confines of your ribcage.

Feeling down the length of his body, your fingertips trace over his collection of scars. You relearn him through touch alone, relishing in the poorly muffled moan he gives when you rediscover the trail of hair below his bellybutton. 

You take his cock in your hand, jerking it off slowly as you adjust your hips to bring him closer to your pussy. It’s messy and impatient, but Din still stutters something unintelligible as you rub the tip of him up the length of your entrance.

“Is this…” he’s breathing so hard it sounds like he’s in physical pain. “Ngh, fuck you’re so wet.”

“Fuck me,” you breath into his ear, hooking your legs around him in order to urge his hips to forward.

He presses his nose into the crook of your neck, easing himself into you as soon as the words leave your mouth. You inhale sharply, relaxing into the near-painful stretch of him inside you. You think you might be cursing, or pleading, it feels too good to keep track of what’s leaving your mouth.

Din steadily increases his pace the longer he’s inside you, every stroke chipping away at some resolve he was attempting to maintain. He seals a hand over the back of your thigh, pressing your leg back to reach somewhere deep inside you. This combined with the small sounds he makes as he fucks you—the sharp inhales, the restrained grunt of an exhale that eventually follows each one—are enough to have another pulsing wave of desire roll through you.

“Harder,” you’re able to gasp before his mouth is slamming against yours again.

Without warning, he flips you onto your stomach. You barely have time to prop yourself up on your knees before he’s snapping his hips back into you, one hand gripping your hip so tightly you think it might bruise, the other reaching around to rub your over-stimulated clit.

“Maker I—Din,” you’re incoherent, eyes in the back of your skull as his hand releases your hip to snake around your throat, forcing you to crane your head back towards him. Din’s teeth dig into the exposed, tender skin of your neck as he continues his ruthless attack on your clit. The rhythm of his cock pushing into you is unceasing, despite the way he’s twisted your body to accommodate his. You take it.

“Good girl,” he growls in your ear. The praise is taught with desire, razor-sharp. “Such a… fuck—such a good girl. Look so pretty with my cock in you. T—take it so well—”

You come a second time, unable to contain the ragged cry that leaves your already exhausted body. This one picks you up and slams you back down again, hard and fast and unexpected. Din releases his hand from your throat when the height of your orgasm passes. You’re barely able to hold yourself up by your forearms as his hips press into you for a few more hard strokes.

Din pulls out, one hand tightly gripping your hip and the other jerking himself off with your slick. With a low moan, you feel his come spray over your back.

For a moment, there’s only the ragged sound of your joined panting. Din stays kneeling behind you like that for a second. You feel his come begin a slow drip down the concave arch of your spine. And then his tongue, warm and wet, presses against the small of your back, lapping at the length of it. Cleaning you off.

Finishing the job, he collapses against you, forehead rested against the back of your shoulder that’s beginning to ache again.

“Was…” he clears his throat, breathing fast. “Was that okay?”

It was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced and you’re so wrung out you can’t muster anything but a breathy, I can’t believe that just happened, laugh.

“Yeah, Din,” you huff through your giggle. You’re able to reach your arm back to give his thigh a reassuring pat with your bandaged hand. “I’d say a little more than just okay.”

Din joins you in exhausted laughter, kissing your shoulder to stifle the jerk of his chest before easing onto his back on the mattress beside you. You gladly collapse onto your stomach, head still shoved in the pillow below you.

You only rouse when his hand begins to run up and down your back, giving a little hum low in your throat. You turn your head to face him, closing your eyes under your blindfold out of an abundance of caution.

His hand lifts from your back and hesitantly—so, agonizingly hesitantly—brushes the pads of his fingertips against your cheek.

The motion is tiny and brief. But it quiets something within you—a sudden, sacred stillness that comes with an intimacy you’d never felt before. Your breathing goes low and shallow.

Din pulls his hand away, shifting up for a moment to pull one of the blankets he’d taken from your mattress around the two of you. You shift your body to face his as he does, resting your head on a bent arm. He gathers you back in his arms in order to press you tightly against his chest. It feels like a distraction. You readily play into it, even if it is. Especially if it is. You say the first thing that comes to mind, oddly desperate to fill the silence.

“Thank you for bringing this over,” you wiggle into the fabric he’s pulled around you.

“For someone who complains about how cold it is,” he says, propping his chin back at the top of your head. One of his fingernails traces a ticklish line where your hip meets your thigh. “You sure don’t wear a lot to bed, usually I mean.”

You grin against his chest, nipping his collarbone in joking reprimand. “I know you don’t do the whole ‘creature comforts’ thing, but being in a warm bed when it’s cold out is probably the best way to sleep. Highly recommend it.”

“I’ll have to give it a try, then,” he murmurs.

You nestle against, savoring the way his torso feels against yours. His hand continue to trail over your body as you settle, up and down the length of it. There’s something so innocent about the way he touches you, the soft nature of it, that’s hard to wrap your head around.

That isn’t to say he wasn’t gentle or kind. You knew he was more than capable of both of those things. He leads with kindness. That fact has become increasingly clear the longer you’ve been able to spend time with him. In any situation he can, he will. He’s just unafraid to correct that kindness whenever the recipient proves themselves unworthy. After that, Maker help them.

What you really mean is that his ability to be this gentle remains jarring in terms of where he comes from. What it has taken for him to get here, in this moment, with you. All that bloodshed and loss. When you start to consider that, his capacity for compassion becomes a marvel in its own right.

It’s the first time you’ve really noticed that, or at least thought the whole thing through. There’s the feeling as if something was opening somewhere in your chest. You gladly settle into it, relaxing your body fully as your eyes drift shut.

Din inhales deeply before speaking, voice low but casual.

“I saw your project, in the cockpit.” Your body is fitted so tightly to his that the low tenor of his voice reverberates through your chest. You can’t help but sink into the sound of it, an embarrassed smile inching its way up your lips. “You had one like it, at Am’ile’s, right?”

“Yeah,” you wrinkle your nose, stifling a yawn. It seems silly now. “It was something we would do at home. It’s like… a house warming gift, where I grew up. They’re supposed to be given to you but I made my own.”

“Have you ever considered going back?”

The question is so unexpected you half think you’ve misheard him. It pushes off the heavy droop to your eyelids a few moments longer, too intrigued not to stay awake longer. “Huh?”

“Have you ever considered going back, to your home planet?”

“I haven’t… really given it much thought,” you confess. “Honestly never really wanted to. I’m lucky enough that I don’t remember being captured, so it’s not like I have any real reason to be avoiding it. With my parents gone I just... I don’t want to accidentally ruin what little memories I have by chasing after them like that.”

“What do you remember?” As he asks, you feel his fingers trace the shell of your ear. There’s something relaxed about the way he questions you, slightly out of character with the ease in which he continues conversation. Maybe you’re only attuned to it now considering the circumstances. You decide that you like this version of him, whatever that implies.

You tilt your head up from where you’ve laid in on his chest, as if to look up at him. With the blindfold, it’s more of an act of presentation.

“You don’t have to say,” he clarifies, rubbing your earlobe between his thumb and index finger. “I just like the way you describe things.”

“How’s that?” You ask earnestly.

Din thinks for a moment, toying with your ear as he does so. “When you describe things you do it like you’re trying to get whoever you’re talking to right there in the memory with you. It’s generous.”

Your brow furrows. You think that might have been the best compliment anyone has ever given you, and you’re not exactly sure what to do with that fact.

So you tell him what you remember: the cold nights by the fire, trees so thick with moss and fog that the forest would remain a hazy, dull green color throughout the winter months. There were summer festivals, where your mother would braid your hair with long lengths of ribbons. You and the other kids would make a point to try and jump in the lake with all your traditional clothes on in retaliation for having to dress up in the first place. Your father’s joy was always something loud and boisterous enough to fill an entire room. You had long forgotten your mother’s face, but you knew she was beautiful.

Din’s breathing pattern changes slightly once those words leave your mouth. You can’t exactly determine from what, but you shift your stories away from your family after that.

You tell him how you think you needed your time with Am’ile because you understood her desire to retreat from it all. Her cabin reminded you of the one where you were raised, but there, with her, you were your own person. Living with her was a homecoming in its own right, you think.

A part of you knows that’s why you sought her out after escaping. You were arrested by Republic officers--for good reason, you clarified when Din bristles protectively at the idea of you in cuffs. You’d been caught as a stowaway, caked in blood that clearly wasn’t yours so they obviously weren’t going to hear you out until they got you under control. They took you to a med-bay after you were able to tell them what happened.

One of the officers mentioned serving with a Bardottan woman as they interviewed you. He told you how she’d made a name for herself helping those like you. How she now lived a solitary life in the mountains of some remote planet when it got to be too much.

You think he told you that to give you solace in the fact that there was still a life, even after being reduced to what you were reduced to: a shaking mess sitting on a hospital bed, barely able to stutter out a name for yourself, let alone any details of what happened. It was hard to imagine anything beyond the next few seconds, back then. But something in your brain locked onto that story. The promised hope in his voice.

When that soldier came by again to fill out more paperwork, you pressed him more about the healer he told you about. He looked at you strangely, but gave you the information you needed to begin your search for her. You escaped the hospital that night and left, hidden in the cargo of a ship, by that morning.

When you finish, there’s a few moments where you just match your breath to his, unwilling to fill the silence. You’ve never said it all out loud before. Din had stayed quiet the whole time, expect for the occasional squeeze of your shoulder when you plowed through the messier details.

Then, there are two fingers pressed to the underside of your chin, tilting your head upwards towards him. He kisses you, long and slow. It feels like he was thanking you, but it’s too weighted of a feeling for it to be just for the stories alone. You accept it, graciously, regardless.

And there’s a rapid sound of beeping coming from somewhere within the Crest. Din gives a frustrated grunt, pulling away.

“Sorry. Give me a second, we’re almost at Nevarro,” he speaks as he disentangles himself from you. You quickly wrap yourself up in blankets before the cold air of the cabin has the chance to reach you. There’s the soft sound of his bare feet hitting the ground, a pause while he dresses before opening the door and disappearing into the hull.

You dose until you feel the Crest rumble in descent, the ship jerking sharply once landed. A few minutes later, you hear Din enter the room again, sliding the door shut.  

“Is the kid still asleep?” You speak through your yawn, propping yourself up on your forearm. You hear him drop something that sounds like fabric.

“Out cold. Febhana must have spiked his dinner with something,” he sighs with relief as he settles back beside you, naked. You giggle as you open the blankets for him, to which his face immediately presses into your neck. He scoops you up again, settling your chest against his again.

You take a deep breath before you open your mouth to ask what you know you have to. For some reason you think you’re going to need it.

“Din?”

“Hm?”

“What’s next?”

“Drop the quarries off. Hide out somewhere remote for a bit. Karga might give me more fobs but I’m positive he’ll send us somewhere remote. Wait this out a bit.”

“I um… Didn’t mean in that way. I uh—I mean, what happens now…” you gesture at your entwinned naked bodies. “You know.”

The truth of the matter is that you don’t think you’d be able to keep this casual. You care about him and the kid too much to be able to corner this off as a meaningless fling in your head.

And that’s fucking terrifying. Genuinely fucking terrifying.

You feel him swallow. Something in the air shifts. You brace yourself.

“Could we talk about this in the morning?” He’s using his normal voice. You hadn’t realized the tone switch before, but now—contrasted against the gentle hum of his tone just seconds earlier—it’s jarring. Enough for you to physically stiffen.

“I’d like to get an overview,” you keep it short, steely.

Din waits for a long time before speaking again.

“I’m still figuring that part out,” he finally says. “Things were simpler, before the Mando’ade scattered. Before my covert was destroyed. So I don’t know, anymore. I really don’t.” He swallows. You feel it against your temple. “This life, the dedications that come with… with our faith, there’s so many ways you could be hurt--along with the danger you would be put in, if those I associate knew about you. About this. None of it affords room for relationships in the traditional sense. Not anymore.”

You take three deep breaths. You know because you count them, it’s the only thing that keeps you from screaming or weeping or both.

“Would have appreciated that little speech beforehand,” you do your best to keep your voice even, but it warbles slightly on your last word. You sit up to distract from the fact, clutching the blanket to your chest, suddenly mortified by your nakedness. To think you’d just spent the past… however long, giving him some longwinded story when all he wanted was to get his dick wet. Maker, that’s embarrassing.

“I’m sorry—hey! Hey, darling, I’m sorry,” his hand slides over where yours has made a fist in the bedsheets, you snatch it away. He has the balls to keep running his mouth. “I’m just as at a loss for what to do as you are. It happened. We can… we can figure something out. Deal with it later. Please.”      

“Bold of you to call me darling and say some shit like that in the same breath,” you snatch your hand away. You deflect hurt with anger--it was the safest thing to do. The easiest. The most familiar. It hasn’t failed you once. Not once. “Don’t you dare try to sweet-talk me right now, asshole. It’s cheap and something you would never call me and you know that.”

He starts to say something. You ignore him, pushing yourself away from his body and sitting on the edge of the bunk. Your spine curves with exhaustion as you try to will away the tears burning at the corners of your eyes, grateful for the blindfold that wipes them away as soon as they appear.

“Stars,” you scoff. You do a good job keeping the warble out of your voice this time. “You corrected that nursery worker when she mistook you for the kid’s father. Couldn’t even manage that when he’s your damn foundling. Why should I be surprised.”

He’s quiet. Because of course he fucking is.

“You know,” you’re babbling. You know you’re just talking to fill the silence but you can’t help it. “I wouldn’t have asked if—I… You don’t… Maker, you shouldn’t have been so kind if you…”

“Pel kar’ta.” His voice goes gravelly in a way you can’t place. You turn your head slightly as he runs his knuckles down the length of your spine. “Please don’t leave.”

“I—” the fire within you is extinguished almost as quickly as it appeared. You’re so tired. “Mando, I don’t want this to get complicated either, I just don’t think I should...”

“Don’t call me that anymore. Not when it’s only us.” You flinch with how sharply he corrects you. He seems to register your surprise, his next words more soft. If you didn’t know any better you’d say pleading. “Know that I care for you, deeply. Don’t ever think otherwise. I’m only trying to do what’s best.”

You pause, taking a few deep breaths. You know it would be best to just walk away, curl up in your own bed to lick your wounds. Yet, against all rational judgement, all you want is him. The raw comfort of his body against yours. His distinct kindness, though conditional.

His voice again. It’s a supplication, low and taut with some withheld emotion.

“Just… just this one time, stay. Please.”

Collapsing back into him is one of the easiest things you’ve ever done. Din seals both arms around you, pressing you so tightly against him that the pressure is almost uncomfortable. You bury your head back into the side of his jaw, breathing him in. If it were even possible, he curves further into you, a hand threaded through the hair at the back of your skull keeping your face against him. When you breathe, it feels like a shared act.

Closing your eyes, you’re met with a dreamless sleep.

**

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[winchesterxxi]

Tolerate It (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: PG-13 my dudes. 

Type: Angst and some undercooked tasteless fluff cuz I’m a mess and extremely rusty.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Unrequited love, because that’s all we have these days and that shit hurts.

A/N: Based on Taylor Swift’s “Tolerate it” because I deadass listened to that song for the first time and could just picture this scenario ALSO I’m extremely rusty. As in, I haven’t written jackshit like this in over a year. Pardon this crap, but i was really emotional and in need to project onto a newly released song.

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I sit and watch you reading with your head low

The three of you were sitting in the cockpit. The Mandalorian resting his head against the leather of the pilot chair as you sat behind him, The Child in your arms, entertaining itself by tugging and twirling some of your hair strands as you smile down at him and wiggle the occasional finger against his side making him laugh.

This adorable green creature didn’t even phantom about your existence 4 months ago and now you would kill and get killed for it. And admittedly, the same goes for the man resting with his back to you.

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch you.

You were a servant at the tavern where he was set to meet the Client and hand over the child, which was all part of a bigger plan, you later found out. Just like him and his team,  you got trapped when the stormtroopers and deathtroopers surrounded the building and opened fire, killing the Client and sending a bullet flying dangerously close to your head. When Mando, as you called him,  found a vent into the sewers he made sure that you were not left behind.

And that started it for you. He directed no more than 10 words in your direction between entering the location and offering an escape once it was crumbling down, but he was willing to save your life. Once out of danger, the questions started: “who are you”, “what’s your name”, and “don’t you have a place to go”. You told him then, the answers to all of those questions. And you also explained how, given that you were a servant you didn’t actually have a place to go back to. 

So he did a logical thing. Or at least, then and there, it was a purely logical thing. A pro-quo, if you will. He offered you a place to stay,  in return of you working as some sort of a makeshift assistant of his own; someone to look after The Child when he couldn’t and proceed basic maintenance to the Razor Crest when needed.

And you accepted. You know, the logical thing.  Or at least , then and there, it was a purely logical thing.

Though small, you had your own bed in the lower part of the ship giving you some privacy, occasionally disrupted by The Child that insisted on being cuddle against you in order to fall asleep or when there was an emergency that required your help, but, even then, Din wouldn’t just barge in; He’d always knock and make sure you were okay with him opening the door.

You told yourself that he was just being respectful - giving you the privacy that he hoped you’d retribute, which you always did. When it came to such things, you’d tip toe around him, not asking too many questions and only talking when spoken to or when you wanted to break an incredibly heavy silence. You respected The Way.

I notice everything you do or don't do

Eventually, you started to pick up through his body language traits and quirks of his personality that you couldn’t capture through the enclosed and hidden facial expressions: how he’d always lay The Child against his left arm while on a hunt as to work the weapons with his other hand, how he’s close his fists whenever he realized that he was about to shoot someone; or how after encasing any creature in carbonite, he’d always look over at his capture for a few moments in silence, before rolling his shoulders back and walk away, without uttering a word.

And those little things started to change with time. Changing, as in, new instincts and unconscious movements came to be concerning you: small things, like he’d never walk you in front of him, so as to be on the lookout to any danger or making sure to deviate any conversation that a badly-internationalized creature might want to direct at you.

Eventually, it became bigger. Or at least you thought. He’d make sure that you were covered whenever you fell asleep anywhere that wasn’t your bed; he started to crack jokes with you and have the occasional fight over whose time it was to bathe the kid, like an old married couple.

You're so much older and wiser, and I I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

Lay the table with the fancy shit And watch you tolerate it

One day he’d be like that, and the next, he’d come back after a hunt in which it was too dangerous for you to go, and you’d been waiting all day (when it wasn’t a whole week) for him to come back, not injured and very much alive, and he almost wouldn’t acknowledge you, going straight into the fresher and locking himself in there.

Every time you’d be at the ready with cloths in your hand, prepared to clean any blood splatter or to wrap any open wound. But he’d dismiss you and lock himself away, somewhere in the ship.  

If you didn’t know what mixed signals were before, you sure as hell knew now.

I take your indiscretions all in good fun I sit and listеn, I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

One day, you had enough.

It was dark night already, and Mando made a lousy entrance through the main portal, struggling to push ahead of him a man much larger than him, draped in canvas coverings.

“Just walk.” Mando grunted, at the same time as he pushed against the man’s back. You were just sitting there, as always, first aid at the ready by your side, watching the scene unfold, unbothered. That is, until you caught the man’s eye.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

“Last time I heard you were a lone rider.” He wickedly grins at you. “But maybe that was all talk and you were just keeping this all to yourself.”

You slowly sit upright as your body tenses up. Mando doesn’t utter a word.

“Who’s that pretty thing anyways?”

“No one. Keep walking.” He grunts, pushing the man once more and away from you.

No one. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so bothered by that description because, truth be told, he was probably trying not to get you involved in any unnecessary interactions with that disgusting being. But it’s as if those words were the final straw you needed to snap out of this passiveness you’ve held on to for the past few months.

“You know virtually everything there is to know about me, my life, and my planet. You gave me shelter and I owe my life to you. But I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s The Way.”

“Oh would you shut the fuck up with that, already?”

“You don’t talk to me like that.”

“Does The Way say that you have to be an asshole 90% of the time. Shutting out the world around you whenever you just don’t feel like dealing with them. I never even got a single thank you for rewiring the central system which prevented us from freezing to death.”

“You won’t even acknowledge me every time you come back from a hunt and you just told that guy that I was no one. Those were the exact words you used.”

“I ditched the very peaceful and stable life that I had because I wanted to help you. I have done nothing but be loyal to you for the past few months, doing everything you ask me to, yet here I am begging for footnotes in the story of your life.” 

You are too close to him, almost pressed against his chest. He steps past you, brushing against your shoulder, leaning over the cockpit’s panel, his hands supporting him. He answers, with his back facing you, like he always seems to do these days.

“If it was so peaceful, maybe you should go back to it, because obviously you weren’t cut for this life.”

“What, I wasn’t cut for The Way?” you walk in his direction, blood boiling and fists curled by your side.

“Exactly.”

“Fine, maybe I’ll go.” And in that moment you could almost swear his face dropped, even if you couldn’t see it. Taking advantage of the moment you step in his direction, tilting your head up, summoning all your strength “But first tell me it’s all in my head.”

“What?” he is caught off guard, turning to face you.

“Tell me that you haven’t stared more than a couple of times. That your heart didn’t drop to the bottom of your stomach when I almost drowned in the Mamacore cage. Tell me that you don’t need my help and that I mean nothing to you.  Tell me that I am taking up too much of your space or time.”

“You can’t know if I stare at you.” Really? That’s the one thing he chose to answer?

“That I can.” you straighten your back, trying to look taller.

“How would you know?” comes the distorted voice through the helmet speakers.

“The same way that you don’t need to have eyes in the back of your head to know when someone is coming at you with a sword or pointing a gun at your head.”

He is silent but you can hear his breathing through the helmet - how it’s slightly accelerated.

“Din.”

“What was that?” you furrow your eyebrows, thinking that he only uttered a random sound.

“Din Djarin. That’s my name.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He finally told you. It took almost a whole bloody year but he told you. He trusts you that much.

“Din and in D-i-n or Dean as in D-e-a-n?” you genuinely ask, walking over to the control table leaning your lower back against it. Din mimics your action, turning around and leaning himself against it, next to you.

“I just revealed to you a piece of information that I have never told anyone and you’re worried about the spelling.” he scoffs crossing his arms.

“I’d like to know what name will be written on my death certificate if I ever get killed because of you.”

He laughs. He actually laughs. Suddenly the heavy and tense atmosphere that was being held between the both of you dissipates as you both relax.

“You have quite the sense of humor.”

“And it only took you 7 months to find that out AND tell me your name.”

Then, silence again. But this time it isn’t uncomfortable. Not like the one there normally is. It’s as if you’ve quite literally cleaned the air. It is now comfortable to just be in his presence, nothing else. Not like it wasn’t before, don’t get me wrong, but you always needed something else, something more. But now? You were content.

“Sorry about what I said earlier, the you’re no one part.”

You smile up at him “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, you said it yourself, I was an asshole.”

“No I shouldn’t have --” he cuts you off.

“You should. You are right. I just...” “The real reason why I dismiss you so much is because I am scared.” Now that catches you off guard.

“Scared of what? Of me? Because trust me you have fought with creatures much more --”

“No, I am scared that if I let you in, I’ll end up going the wrong way. I’m scared that if I let myself look at you when I want to or if I let myself give in to how much I want to come back to you at the end of every day that I’ll end up destroying all this discipline that I’ve insisted on myself all these years.”

Wow. You have to steady yourself with your hands with this information that just hit you right in the chest.  “If I let myself give in to how much I want to come back to you at the end of every day” those words echo in your head and make your heart beat faster. Does he really feel that way about you?

But you decide with your better judgment not to push that particular point as the simple fact of him revealing the tiniest bit of his true feeling has already pushed him much farther than what he was willing to.

“I never asked you to take off your helmet.”

And little do you know that maybe you two are more similar than what meets the eye as now it’s his time to think Really? That’s the one thing she chose to answer?

“I know. And you’re the first person to not ask me that.” he says.

“Because I respect you. And I know how much it means to you, to keep your principles.”

“Is that all it is? Respect?” his heart is beating so fast and his body heat as come way up that the canvas and beskar around his body suddenly feel too itchy and warm.

You decide against your better judgment and toy with the idea.

“Why, did you expect anything else?” 

“What- no no I didn’t ---” he stumbles over his own words, trying to still seem like the bigger person, but you cut him off.

“Din.”

“Hunh?” his helmet snaps in your direction and, maybe you are seeing things, but you can almost swear that you can see a pair of worried eyes through the black visor.

“I like you too.” and just like that the galaxy stopped. He almost forgot how to breathe weren’t it for your own alternated breathing that reminded him to allow that mechanism to happen again in himself. “And I’m willing to wait for whatever it is that you need to feel to be comfortable enough around me, and to let me in.”

There’s a sweet silence as you rest your warm hand on top of his leather-gloved one, your warmth passing through the fabric and he looks down at it in awe, his heart swelling like never before. 

Suddenly you feel yourself being pushed in Dean’s direction from the opposite side from where he is leaning against the control board. You try to subtly resist it but the force gets too strong at once and you are plunged to his front. Thankfully he is quick enough to catch you and press you flush against his chest.

Both of your breathings are extremely accelerated and your heart is pumping in your your ears with the sudden movement. You can feel his gloved hands on the lower of your back. Then, you both slowly look to the side, to the sound of a coo only to find the kid, on the ground in front of you both, little hand outstretched.

“That little shit.” exhales Din.

You get your hand up and swiftly smack the back of his helmet.

“A little respect, that’s your son.”

TAGS

@tillytheslytherin​

[cocochannel00]

Quarantine Date

Boyfriend!Harry plans a date in the era of social distancing...

A big PSA to all of my lovely followers: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WEAR A MASK AND SOCIAL DISTANCE WHEN IN PUBLIC. DON’T PUT YOURSELF AND OTHER PEOPLE AT RISK

Harry knew how important your work was to you. You were an essential worker during the COVID pandemic and had been working rigours 12+ hour shift at the hospital. You had barely seen or talked to Harry over the last couple of months, mainly because he had been locked down in LA for the first half of quarantine and you had been basically living in the hospital lounge. You had been dating Harry for almost a year now so you knew what it was like to have him far away, but this time it felt different. This time all you wanted to was spend your day off curled up in bed with Harry and watch as he tried to imitate Heath Ledger's accent in 10 Things I Hate About You instead of watching it by yourself. I guess you’d just have to spend the day wallowing in self pity with your tub of ice cream. 

You were half way through your movie when your phone rang. Too lazy to look at who’s calling to picked up the phone and spoke a quick hello.

“You. Me. Date tonight. No excuses” the person said through the phone.

“Why Tom Holland I’m flattered, but I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend already” you replied back as a joke.

“Ha ha very funny (y/n) and besides I know you don’t have Tom’s number yet. But seriously, I’ve been home nearly a week and I haven’t seen you in person.” Harry spoke.

“Haz, 4 patients on my floor tested positive for COVID this week. I don’t want to expose you or god forbid Anne or Gemma to it”

“We can do a social distance date, I’ll plan the whole thing,” Harry practically begged.

“Harry I don’t know...” you stated with a sigh.

“I know today is your day off and you’re probably curled up in bed with some ice cream right now so hear me out. You stay in your room and relax for the rest of the day and I’ll spend the day planning our date tonight. Please, love, I really want to see you even if it’s six feet apart and with a mask” Harry pleaded.

“Ok ok fine I’ll go on a social distancing date with you but only if you promise to stay 6 ft away” you said sternly.

“I’ll bring a measuring tape so you can double check” he replied as you laughed.

“Wonderful, I can’t wait. Do I need to wear something special to this date tonight?” You asked curiously.

“That’s a surprise for later”

“Harold you know I hate surprises” you whined over the phone.

“I know that’s why I love them. Now I need to go, I have lots of planning to do for tonight. Love you”

“Love you too, H. See you tonight” you replied before hanging up the phone.

You were excited yet nervous to see Harry in person. Seeing his face through zoom was one thing but seeming all of him in person without being able to run up and hug him could very well crush you on the spot. All you knew for sure was that thinking about this date was take up your entire day. You weren’t one for grand cheesy gestures and you hated being the center of attention so you prayed that Harry didn’t go overboard on the whole evening.

You groaned quietly as you rolled over the the other side of your bed (usually Harry’s side) and checked the alarm clock to see it was only 5 pm so you had at least another 3 hours of wallowing in self pity until Harry came back. For once you just wanted the clock to move faster. Sinking back down into your sheets you ran a hand through your wet hair from your morning shower. You knew you should have brushed it earlier so that it didn’t frizz , but you hadn’t been expecting company and you didn’t really care what you looked like under all your PPE at the hospital. Just as you were beginning to detangle your hair you got a message from Harry.

Harry: Wear pajamas tonight, we’re going extra comfy. Love you - H

You smiled at the message and placed the phone back onto your lap. Nothing could ever put a smile on your face faster than Harry’s name popping up on your screen. Back when you first started dating and you had been stressed about going back to work after visiting him on tour he would send you pictures of puppies every morning just to cheer you up. Now he’s resorted to other much less innocent tactics to try and cheer you up when you’re have a bad day, but you couldn’t complain (especially during quarantine). With all that said, Harry continues to surprise you daily so to say you were excited for your date night would be an understatement. The only thing getting you through the wait was knowing you needed to take at least a 2 hour nap before he got there otherwise you would pass out during your date tonight.

——————— /// ——————— // ——————-

You woke up to the sound of “Kiwi” blasting in your ear as the timer you had set went off. Carefully, you untangled yourself from your excessively long phone charger before check the time and realizing you only had ten minutes to get ready. How many times had you pressed snooze in your sleep? You were in too much of a rush to figure it out as you raced to your closet to put on a comfy pair of pajama shorts and an old college t shirt. Even though Harry said it was going to be casual you decided to still go through the effort of putting on a bit of concealer and foundation to try and cover up the bags under your eyes. You were just rubbing in your moisturizer when you got another text from Harry.

Harry: I’m downstairs, don’t look out your window. Come to the backyard when you’re ready because our date night is about to begin. - H 

You grinned widely at the message and quickly finished putting on the rest of your make-up while also running a brush through your hair. Your hair had definitely had better days but it was too late to do anything besides put your hair in a bun to try and keep the frizz down with the growing humidity. With one last look in the mirror, you went downstairs to go meet Harry.

You carefully made your way to the door and grabbed one of your cloth masks off of the counter before putting it on and opening the door to your backyard. Your porch had been covered in fairy lights and two mountains of pillows had been placed on opposite sides of the backyard. In the middle their stood a giant sheet with a projector set up underneath it. It looked like something out of a rom-com and you were shocked that Harry was able to set all of this up without you knowing. Just as you were about to call out Harry’s name you saw him walk in through the back door with a mask on, a bottle of wine in his hands. He was wearing one of your favorite striped shirts that you said made him look like Where’s Waldo’s cousin. 

“I know it’s not exactly how I would have liked to see you on our first date in months, but I made sure to measure out the 1 meter (6 feet) for the cushions” Harry stated as he placed the bottle of wine down on a table next to a box of pizza. 

Your eyes began to water at the sight of him in front of you. It had been so long since you had seen him in person and so much had happened in your life in the last couple months that all you wanted to do was run up and wrap your arms around him. You impulsively put your arms out and took a couple of steps forward before you remembered that you couldn’t touch him and put your hands down. A tear fell down your cheek just as Harry looked up from the bottle he was attempting to open.

“Y/n what’s wrong love. Did I do something wrong?” He asked cautiously as you shook your head.

“Just missed you a lot. Wanted to give you a hug, but I don’t want to risk it” you replied softly as you took off your mask and wiped the stray tears from your face. 

Harry slowly took off his mask and gave you a sympathetic smile, “Wish I could run up and hug you too, love. Missed you so much these past couple of weeks. Thought I was going to go crazy with Jeff and all that baking in LA”.

You chuckled softly at his efforts of lightening the mood before scrunching your nose the extensive facial hair you didn’t remember seeing before.

“When did you grow that fuzz ball on your face?” you questioned sarcastically as you made your way over to one of the pillow piles. 

Harry scoffed at your remark and ran his hand across his face, “Excuse me miss [y/l/n] but this has taken me nearly four months to grow and I’d say it is much more than just a fuzz ball” 

“You’re right Har, you definitely grew it out to pornstar level. Proud of you baby” you said with a giggle as Harry glared at you. 

“I did not come here to get harassed about my new look” Harry grumbled jokingly as he gave you his cheshire smile. 

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make fun of your tremendous accomplishments. Thank you by the way, for putting all of this together. This was really sweet. Oh my god, stop, is this your fuzzy sweater” You said with a squeal as you put on his multicolored cardigan he had placed on top of a blanket. You inhaled the smell of his Tom Ford cologne and smiled.

“I figured since I can’t give you a hug yet, you could wear that” he replied back as he carefully opened the box of pizza he had placed on a small table in the middle of the porch. 

You moaned softly as you stared at the pizza just a few feet away from you. 

“Why have I never heard you moan like that for me in bed?” Harry joked as you glared at him.

“That was my foodgasm moan. You know damn well I don’t keep quiet with you so I don’t want to hear any complaints. Now, give me two slices of that delicious pizza please” 

Harry laughed at your response as he placed his mask back on and put on some hand sanitizer before placing two piece of pizza on a plate and pouring you a glass of wine. He walked over to you carefully and placed the food and the glass on a tray next to you that you hadn’t seen. You thanked him before placing the tray in your lap and taking a sip of your wine. Harry began to grab himself a slice when you shouted his name and took out your phone. 

“Wait I want to get a picture of you in person. I can’t keep stalking your fans’ accounts to get pictures of you.” you mumbled as you tapped on your camera. 

Harry nodded grudgingly before he took off his mask and began posing with the bottle of wine. 

“I think I could be one of those influencers” he joked as he nearly spilled the wine onto his shirt. 

“I think maybe we should leave that to the pros” you replied jokingly as you curled up into your pillow fort and began munching on your food. 

Harry sat down in the the pillow fort adjacent to yours on your porch. The two of you talked as you ate and tried to catch each other up on anything that you had missed on your various facetime calls. It was nice to be able to see him in person and know that he was okay. You had been so worried he would catch it while in LA and even though he wasn’t in one of the high risk categories you had witnessed several health people die of the disease and you didn’t even want to think about Harry in that situation. After you had both finished your meals Harry decided to put on “10 Things I Hate About You” and proceed to jump up next to the sheet you guys were using for a screen and act out the entire bleacher serenade live. 

You could not keep the smile off of your face that night. Harry had this way of making you forget all of your problems when you were with him and you were grateful to have found someone as caring as him. 

“ I love you H, thank you for a wonderful night” you whispered as the credits rolled onto the screen. 

“Anything for you love. Glad I got to see for a bit even if you did fall asleep on me halfway through the movie.” He replied back with a grin.

“It wasn’t my fault! You made my pillow fort to cozy, how could I resist a cat nap?” you stated as you smiled at him.

“Can’t blame you for it. Got a couple of cute pictures of you sleeping for my lock screen though.” He replied with a smirk as you groaned.

“Harry I was definitely drooling, you need to delete those” you said as Harry shook his head. 

“Can’t do that. Got to show mom our lovely date night”

“Fine, but no one else sees that picture besides Anne. I can’t have Mitch and Jeff teasing me everytime I see them like with the whole ketchup fiasco.” you mumbled as you began to fold the blanket you had wrapped around your body during the movie. 

“Leave everything there love, you need to go get some sleep before your shift tomorrow. I’ll clean all of this up, you just head inside for me” Harry stated as he turned off the projector and began taking down the sheet. 

“Are you sure?” you asked hesitantly. 

‘Yes, love, you need your rest. Go, come on. I can’t have you falling asleep while taking care of your patients.” Harry replied.

You hesitated for a minute before buttoning up the sweater Harry had given you and putting your mask back on. 

“I don’t want to leave here without giving you a hug” you stated softly as Harry looked at you with a small smile.

“(Y/n) if you want a hug all you have to do is ask, would have given you one the minute I got here. Let me grab my mask.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this? I got tested two days ago for COVID and the last 6 have been negative but I don’t get the results till tomorrow and I don’t want you to get ill” you replied with a hesitant look. 

“Love I think with all of the hand washing and the masks we’ll be okay, but I’ll only give you one if you want it” he said as he put on his mask and adjusted the nose wire. 

“I want one” you said as Harry opened his arms up for you.

You practically jumped into his arms and nearly started sobbing from the first really physical contact you’ve had with anybody in weeks.

“God I love you so much (Y/n)” Harry stated as he tugged you closer and placed a kiss on your temple through his mask.

“I love you too H” you replied back as you closed your eyes tight and tried to hold on as long as possible.

“Good now come on, get to bed so you’re well rested for tomorrow. I’ll come back tomorrow night with some dinner after your shift so we can eat together again. Would that be ok?” he asked as he placed his hands on your hips.

“That would be lovely. I get off at 8 tomorrow”

“I’ll be waiting for you here, don’t worry” Harry stated. 

“Ok, I’ll go. I love you” you replied as you carefully untangled yourself from Harry and slowly made your way inside.

“I love you too. good night Haz” 

“Night love, see you tomorrow”

———————————————————————

@thereal(y/n) Someone tell my boyfriend that he’s not cool enough to be sponsored by this amazing wine

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@harrystyles Tell that to Gucci

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Masterlist

[words-for-holland]

Happier (2) | T.H.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Kate and Harrison question Y/N on why she really left Tom. Natalie and Harrison become Tom’s shoulder to cry on. Another message?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

A/N: By popular demand, Ive decided to continue Happier! Thank you for the support !

Traumatic

The only word that can describe Y/N and Tom’s experience after being apart for a whole week. The feeling where you wake up from an awful nightmare praying to never experience it again. The only difference, this was no nightmare. It was very much real.

Happiness and love were now just meaningless words for them. Days and nights can pass, but the emptiness in their hearts stayed. While Y/N had her fair share of reasons for being apart, Tom still couldnt understand. She had to have known that no matter what, Tom would always pick her. With the slightest ounce of hope, he’d text Y/N at least once a day to make sure she was okay. But each unanswered text brought a wave of disappointment.

“Hey mate...Cmon I know you’re waiting for her, but now’s not the time.” Harrison explained, his heart breaking for his best friend. “You need to give her the space she needs.”

“I just cant believe she really left me.” Tom muttered. His head hung low, hair an unruly mess, and his facial hair sprouting, but his eyes remained the same. Brown, puffy and welled up with tears. “All because of these stupid fucking rumors!” He yelled out in frustration throwing his phone at the closet. Tom sulked into the closet to grab his phone, right next to it was a small box that contained a promise he was going to make to her, had everything not gone all to shit.

“Shit...” Harrison muttered. “You were going to propose to her.” He knew Tom was bound to pop the question to Y/N, but he never thought he’d see the day that she would fall out and leave his best friend. Yet, it all seemed off. In the time he knew Y/N, she was never the one to give up, especially when it came to Tom.

“Yeah...I was going to ask on our anniversary next month. I love her...more than anything.” Tom confessed, staring at the diamond cut ring. “Before she left, she wished me happiness. Saying I’d be happier with Natalie, but i just don’t believe that.”

Harrison was about to open his mouth, when Natalie popped in their doorway, giving a small sympathetic smile. “Hey...I heard you two in the hallway. Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Mmm..Nat. I don’t think now’s the —”

“No it’s okay. She can come in.” Tom interrupted Harrison as he gestured Natalie to sit with them.

“Look. I know you’re upset by the whole thing, but you shouldn’t have to be.” She explained, her hand rubbing Tom’s for comfort. “She left you. For what? Because she couldn’t ignore a few comments about us...When there wasnt an us to begin with? She just didn’t care about you as much as you thought she did.”

“Yeah, but Natalie this is Y/N and Tom. The bond between them was supposed to be unbreakable. They’re practically soulmates.” Harrison argued. “It doesn’t mean that Y/N didnt care for him.”

“Look Im just saying if she really loved Tom with all her heart she wouldnt have left him because of me.” Natalie spoke out, flipping her dirty blonde hair to the side. She grabbed Tom’s hand again, and gently stroked soft circles. For Tom it felt good, but it wasn’t Y/N’s touch. Y/N would have traced squiggly lines on the top of his hand because it was less boring.

Harrison scoffed at her gesture. Sure he had known Natalie to be a flirt at times but never picked her to be the friend that got too friendly with another after a messy breakup. “I’ll be back. Have to make a call.” He muttered as he walked away from the most cringey and awkward situation a person has ever been in.

As Harrison made his call, Natalie scooted closer to Tom, leaning on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. “Tom...I know it hurts, but you have to believe she wasn’t right for you. There are so many girls out there that could treat you better.”

“What like you?” Tom rolled his eyes as he put the ring away.

“If you wanted me, yes I could. I’d handle your career and your personality better than anyone else. I dont want to seem forward but I always imagined you’d end up with me. Its silly but I wanted that with you, the whole romantic movie experience.” She explained, endlessy spilling out her idealistic fantasy with him.

Tom was shocked by what he heard. To him Natalie was just a friend he had known most of his life. Maybe there was one time he did have a slight crush on her but that was just it. It was an attraction and nothing more. He thought for a great deal, wondering if this was where it all went wrong. Maybe he should have listened to Y/N more. “Tom did you hear what I said?” Natalie spoke up again, this time threading her fingers on the nape of his neck.

Tom shrugged her off, as he shook his head. He couldnt do this right now, he needed to be alone. “Look lets deal with this another time. I just...I really need to run right now...alone.” Tom excused himself as he grabbed his airpods and quickly left the room. Truthfully he always hated running, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Meanwhile back in the States, Y/N still felt the affects of her heartbreak. She trudged through the New York apartment like a zombie with no purpose, waiting for someone to finish her off already. It wasn’t like she wanted to break it off, but it was the only logical solution at the time. The only problem, it built off a lifetime of regrets.

Kate watched Y/N from afar, the message she read still clouding her mind. Her best friend was terrible at keeping secrets, let alone she was always the first person Y/N would go to if she ever had one. She observed her very closely, waiting for Y/N to come to her.

Kate felt the usual vibrations of someone calling her phone. Again another unknown number? It was almost similar to the one Y/N had recieved. Maybe it was a robo-call or a psychotic fan, which if it was she’d have to talk with Tom about. A mental note she promised she would get too.

“Listen I dont know who you are, but if its the same person that sent my best friend a threatening message that she’s better off breaking up with her boyfriend...I swear to God I’ll fucking punch you in the face.” Kate threatened, her eyes glaring and fist balling up on the counter.

“Whoa...chill out. It’s me, Harrison. Im a friend of Tom’s.”

Kate looked up with surprise with a helpful pinch of embarassment and relief. “Oh. Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to know how Y/N’s holding up. I know she broke up with Tom, but something’s just not right about this. Has she told you anything?” Harrison confessed.

Kate shook her head as she continued to watch Y/N lie on the couch mindlessy scrolling through an already watched list on Netflix. “No. It’s like her soul left her body. I can barely get through to her.”

“Blimey, it’s the same with Tom. This is ridiculous, we should just get them together so they can talk about it.” Harrison groaned, thinking how stupid this all was. They could have saved each from the heartbreak and depression. “Are you sure there’s nothing she told you?”

Kate hesitated for a moment on whether she should answer. “Well... there may be one thing, but she didnt talk per say. It’s more of what I found.”

Harrison stood up, intrigued by her response. “Oh really what did you find?”.

Kate was about to answer until she hear a text go off on her phone.

Unknown:

I wouldnt say anything if I were you 😚

She squinted at the text when another popped up.

Unknown:

That is...if you want to keep your friendship with Y/N 🤫

“Uhh..it was nothing actually. Just found a wallpaper of her and Tom. She hasnt changed it since they broke up and she got a couple of messages......from Tom.” She lied haphazardly.

Harrison was confused and disappointed by her answers, knowing it led to nothing. While Kate was a great liar among all things, this wasn’t her best work. Of course it was all planned in hopes that Harrison, if he was really smart enough, could figure it out.

Harrison was not that smart, but he was a good lie detector, and that was all he needed to know something was definitely up and Natalie, although may be a good friend of his, became a prime suspect.

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @ifilosemyselfagain @hevjadams

[ladylouoflothlorien]

Heal My Heart

anonymous asked:

I see you have requests open! I'd love to see something with Dwalin awkwardly courting a sweet little hobbit healer reader who also takes no shit.... is that too specific? I just need more Dwalin content! ~cassiabaggins Ok so, I swear to god are requests supposed to be this long when you write them ^^;;;? I guess when I did the other request I got for Dwalin before and I said “any excuse to write for Dwalin” I really meant it. I’ll tag you just to make sure you see it! @cassiabaggins SO HERE YOU GO: Heal My Heart Dwalin x Female!Hobbit!Reader Words: 3676

“Tea’s at 4.” Bilbo had said. “Don’t bother knocking.”

Well there he was outside of Bag End at precisely 4pm – he’d timed his arrival perfectly.

Dwalin had been looking forward to his visit to the Burglar of Bag End for many months. He’d spent one winter in Erebor after the reclamation and, as much as it pained him to admit it, it was not the home he once remembered. There were too many ghosts in the stone walls for him, not least the death of his great friend and King who he hadn’t been able to save. Dain had graciously offered him a decorated position in the Royal Guard, and though Dwalin truly appreciated the offer, he’d declined. He had his share of the treasure, so there was no need for him to work. Apart from that, he knew deep down that no King would ever hold his loyalty in the same way that Thorin had, and how could he dedicate his life to protect a King he cared little for when he’d already done that for a King he did care about and had failed. Not long into that cold winter, he’d began entertaining thoughts of following Bilbo back to The Shire, if only for a change of scene. He needed to get away from that mountain mausoleum.

It surprised him just how much he longed for soft grass and rolling hills, perhaps because it was the exact opposite of the things that reminded him of his pain. Balin had been the one to convince him to wait until the winter was over before heading out, especially as he intended to undertake the journey alone. Azog might be dead, but the roads were still far from safe. The snow had come, and stayed for months, but as soon as it had melted Dwalin was ready to leave. He’d completed all his preparations weeks before.

Bag End was exactly like he remembered, although the mark Gandalf had placed on the door was gone. The Shire itself didn’t seem any different, though he’d hardly gotten a good look at it the first time he’d been there, considering he’d arrived under the cover of darkness. He stood in Bilbo’s front garden, stalling, for now he had finally arrived at his destination he felt a strange hesitancy to complete his journey. That, and he was still debating as to whether or not he should actually knock, or simply walk in. Which would be more of a surprise? After a short internal debate, he decided to heed the Hobbit’s advice, and he pushed the door open without knocking.

When Dwalin stepped into the Smial he was suddenly transported back over a year before, remembering how he felt setting off on such a mighty quest. Had he known quite how it would end, he most likely would have done everything in his power to prevent it from happening, for what was a Mountain Throne without a King to sit in it? The tall dwarf was pulled from his moping by the sound of voices. The first, Bilbo’s, but the second he did not recognise. Intrigued, he walked towards the voices and found himself hovering outside Bilbo’s Kitchen.

“Bilbo really, this is the absolute last time I stitch you up because you slept with that silly knife in the bed.”

Dwalin heard the tell-tale sound of Bilbo sniffing, and just knew he was wrinkling his nose. Beorn’s nickname for Bilbo had been rather accurate, hadn’t it?

“It is not a ‘silly’ knife. Its name is Sting, and it’s my sword.”

“Sword or no sword, it does not belong under the covers Bilbo Baggins!”

Bilbo being scolded? Now that Dwalin had to see. Quite as a mouse – or at least a mouse that was close to 5ft of solid muscle – he moved his body so he could peek around the open arch-way that led into the kitchen. As silent as he’d been up until that point, the sight of Bilbo sitting on his kitchen bench – blushing – as a sweet female hobbit tenderly examined his arm, made him forget himself.

“By Mahal buglar, ye’ never told us ye’d found yerself a wife!”

---

As it turned out, Bilbo had not found himself a wife, thank you very much Mister Dwalin. The Hobbit had been blushing because he’d been embarrassed, as it was not the first or even the second time he’d needed patching up after cutting himself on his on sword whilst he slept. Dwalin understood the underlying meaning behind the injuries; the Hobbit had been sleeping with his sword because he felt unsafe somehow. Dwalin didn’t need to be as smart as his brother to work out why that might be.

If he’d needed an excuse to stay in The Shire, he could’ve used the excuse of staying to help Bilbo feel safe, but as it turned out Bilbo was more than eager to have his friend stay at Bag End for an extended period of time.

“Now you’re here you surely won’t be off again in a hurry, Dwalin! I’ll have the guest room ready for you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Dwalin hadn’t been quite sure how lambs’ tails came into anything, but he wasn’t going to question an invitation to stay, not now he had yet another reason for wanting to remain in The Shire for the foreseeable future. By Durin’s beard if she wasn’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld, beardless face and all. Having found out that she was not in fact Bilbo’s wife, but rather his cousin – once removed on his father’s side, and thrice on his mother’s – and The Shire’s most knowledgeable healer, he’d felt a sense of relief he could compare with none he had ever felt.

It had taken Dwalin all of 10 minutes to realise that she was his One, and he was not at all disappointed that she was a Hobbit, though he realised that Hobbits did not love in quite the same way as Dwarves did and he knew he would have to properly win her affections. He felt up to the challenge, though the very thought of courting her made him jittery all over. Still, if he could face down a pack of warg-riding orcs with less than a handful of fear then surely he could face this new challenge head on.

---

The day you met Dwalin had started out no more remarkable than any other day, but it had not ended so. You’d been rather exasperated to find that, upon your visit to one of your more cherished family members for afternoon tea, you had yet another injury to tend to. You were growing rather concerned for your cousin Bilbo, though it came out of you as exasperation. So far he had only given himself gashes – rather nasty gashes, but gashes all the same – but you knew that sleeping with a sharp object could never bring anything but harm. How long would it be before he gave himself an injury that would be much more difficult to fix, and more difficult to heal from?

You’d barely finished the business of stitching up his latest cut when a third party had made itself known in Bag End, and by the Lady you were glad he hadn’t shown up before or else you might not have had the presence of mind to complete the stitches properly. You didn’t think you’d ever seen anyone quite so attractive in your entire life. You felt certain that his biceps were larger than your head, and oh sweet Yavanna, he really did tower over you, being a respectable 3ft and 6 inches yourself. You finally understood why the Lady had taken Aulë as her husband. It seemed a very wise decision if he looked anything at all like the beings he’d created.

You were rather busy for a week after the Dwarf, Dwalin, had arrived, but after that time you began to find more and more excuses to visit Bag End. Your cousin, who seemed to see right through you to the real reason of your visits, also began to invite you to dine with him more regularly than before.

A week more, and strange things began to happen. A strong wind had blown a tree down, which had in turn damaged the fencing in the front garden of your own Smial. You’d mentioned this in passing whilst eating dinner at Bag End one night, as you hadn’t yet had a chance to get it fixed. Then the next morning as you left your Smial to go and collect healing herbs, you found none other than Dwalin himself in your front garden. The tree that had fallen was no more, having already been chopped up – by one of Dwalin’s axes, you assumed – and the logs piled neatly. The gruff dwarf was already going about the business of mending the broken fence when you greeted him. Naturally, you thanked him profusely and asked him what he wanted in return. He’d seemed about to say something, but a wonderfully pink colour had spread across his cheeks, partly hidden by his facial hair, and he’d clammed up. He’d quietly grumbled something about not expecting anything in return, and that it was the least he could do for any cousin of Bilbo’s, and so you’d thanked him once again and gone on your way feely very grateful but also thoroughly confused.

The second incident occurred two days after the first. At about midday you’d gotten a knock on the door, and when you opened it you’d been surprised to see Dwalin once again at your front door …. holding a brace of rabbits. He held them towards you, and you’d taken them, for there seemed nothing else to do.

“A-are these for me, Mister Dwalin?” You’d asked, and he’d nodded to confirm it, but had said no more.

You floundered a little at that, having never been gifted meat before, but you’d stepped to the side slightly and asked him inside. You supposed the least you could do would be to offer him some refreshment – it was time for lunch after all. Dwalin had once again gone that rather delicious red shade and had muttered something about ‘not wanting to impose’ so quietly that you almost missed it. He’d bowed a little then, and hurried away, and you were left feeling as confused as you’d felt at the conclusion of your last meeting, although this time the confusion was tinged with disappointment. You’d rather wanted to spend some private time with the gorgeous Dwarf, but he didn’t seem interested at all. His kindness towards you was rather frustrating if that was all it truly was.

After a few more similar happenings, you finally snapped. You’d waited until you knew Dwalin would be away from Bag End – several Hobbits had been employing him to do menial tasks they were not strong enough to do themselves – and when the coast was clear you snuck in to have a private word with your cousin.

“And that’s not all, Bilbo!” Your hands tugged at your hair in frustration as you paced the floor of his study, whilst Bilbo himself remained seated calmly in his chair.

“First it was the fence, and then the rabbits, but he’s also given me furs ‘in case next winter is too harsh for ye’ lass’..” You paused to glare at Bilbo as he laughed at your poor imitation of the dwarf’s accent.

“Yes yes, well you laugh, but he’s also given me a brand new dagger to make it easier for me to collect herbs. It looks like he made it himself Bilbo! No-one around here would either make or own a knife with dwarvish runes carved into it!”

At that Bilbo sat up a little, suddenly alert. All the gifts Dwalin had been giving you, and the order, seemed to be ringing a bell in his mind, he just couldn’t quite remember why.

“Now, don’t you worry. I’ve been writing letters to his brother Balin, you see.” He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and held it aloft.

“It’s my turn to write, and write I shall. I will ask Balin if there is any greater meaning behind this, and when the raven brings his reply we shall know all, if there is anything to be known.”

---

Another fortnight of you enduring an adorably blushing, extremely helpful, frustratingly unwilling-to-explain-his-actions dwarf and Balin’s letter finally arrived.

Dear Bilbo,

As always it was very nice to receive your letter, but I won’t waste your time with needless chatter, as I am sure you will be eager to hear what I have to tell you next.

It would seem that my brother Dwalin has forgotten the first rule of Dwarven courting, which is tell the person that they are being courted, for though he is as stone-headed and iron-fisted as our father could have ever wished for, he is sensitive in his own way.

As you have no doubt deduced from that previous statement, it would appear that my brother is trying to court your cousin. Dwarrow do not go about sharing the details of our rituals and habits, but it is necessary in this case, and though you are a thief I know you to be an honest one, my friend, so I know I can count on you not to spread this information further than is needed.

Our courting is about showing your intended that you can take care of them, provide for them, keep them safe and protected. From what you say Dwalin has been doing, it seems he has covered these steps and is moving on to the next. The dagger you could say is a gift with the purpose of protecting her when he cannot do so himself, even if he has used the herb-gathering as a cover story. I would not be surprised if he soon gives her something more expensive – there should be at least one gift given to enhance something about her that he finds beautiful.

Do write again Bilbo, if all goes well I hope I shall soon be able to call you family in more than just combat!

Yours,

Balin.

“Well.” Bilbo said to himself as he leaned back in his chair, bringing his pipe to his lips. “Well, isn’t that something?”

---

You sat in your front room, twisting your skirt between your fingers anxiously. You’d heard about Balin’s letter from Bilbo, and now whenever you weren’t busy you were anxiously waiting for Dwalin to come around with his next gift. You hadn’t seen him for a few days, and you could only assume that the next time he came, it would be with the ‘expensive gift’ Balin’s letter had mentioned. Your stomach was twisted in many, many knots, for you knew that you had to get Dwalin to admit that he was courting you – your heart could only take so much, and though Balin’s letter had done much to confirm your own sneaking suspicions, you couldn’t get the nagging voice of doubt to shut up. Besides, Balin’s letter had said it was only right and proper that Dwalin actually let you know that he was trying to court you.

Then it came, that knock at you front door, and you practically jumped a foot out of your chair at the sound. You took a deep breath to steady yourself before going to open it, and were rather disappointed to see that it wasn’t in fact Dwalin, but a rather frantic looking Hobbit that you didn’t know that well. As it turned out, their husband had come down with a fever, and before you knew it you were rushing off to treat them, your worries about Dwalin temporarily forgotten.

By the time you got back to your Smial, it was dusk, and you were exhausted. You almost didn’t notice Dwalin sitting on the bench in your front garden, patiently waiting for you to return with a box in his hands.

“O-oh, hello Mister Dwalin!” You stammered out, and felt rather put-out that you hadn’t had any alone time to prepare yourself for meeting him.

“Good evening, lass.”

As always he was rather quiet when addressing you, seemingly unable to look you in the eye for more than a second in total. He shuffled where he stood a little, and then held the box out to you, telling you to take it without using his words. You steeled yourself before replying, pushing your shoulders back in an attempt to physically force confidence into your small body.

“I… Dwalin I…” You took a deep breath and tried again.

“Dwalin I cannot take this, I-”  

You’d been ready to continue, to explain everything, but Dwalin’s face visibly fell so dramatically that it caught you off guard and your words escaped you. His whole body seemed to deflate and sag until he was almost your height, and you swore you could see his hands tremble slightly around the box they were still holding.

“O-of course lass..” He began, his voice trailing off until it sounded more like he was grumbling at himself than really responding to her.

“Don’t know wha’ I was thinking… ugly brute like me… of course ye’ wouldn’t…”

You were so stunned by the things he was muttering about himself that you couldn’t do anything, and only when he turned to leave did you finally regain control of yourself. You reached out your hand and held his arm to keep him where he was, and he stilled, though you did not doubt he could break out of your hold in an instant If he chose to. He looked at you, his face a heart-breaking picture of self-doubt, confusion, and a small amount of hope.

“M-mister Dwalin.. that is to say..” You could feel your own face growing red as you tried to force out the words you’d so carefully prepared by yourself, in front of your mirror.

“I-I will gladly accept it… but isn’t there something you need to say to me? That is.. I.. Balin’s letter said…” You trailed off, your embarrassment and anxiety having risen to no-doubt dangerous levels.  

Dwalin on the other hand finally seemed to have regained the ability to speak at a normal volume around you.

“Ye’ had a letter from my brother Balin, lass?” He asked, utterly confounded by the idea, for how would his brother even know to send you a letter? You shook your head quickly.

“N-no.. his letter to Bilbo!” As you continued to speak, you voice got quieter and quieter until Dwalin had to strain to hear the words.

“He said.. that dwarven courting … needs to be… told plainly.. I mean..” You swallowed, once again consumed by the thought that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t actually been trying to court you at all and this was all some cruel trick.

The truth of the situation finally dawned on the old warrior.

“Oh Mahal.. lass I’m such a fool…” He groaned, and finally all the words he’d been yearning to say but hadn’t had the courage to came spilling out like a flood from a burst dam.

“I wanted to tell ye’ really I did… but I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. I should’ve stopped then lass, but I did not have the strength …”

You let out a shaky, but relieved breath, and let go of his arm in favour of gently taking his – much larger – hands with your own, curling slim fingers over thick fingers where they still grasped the box.

“Dwalin. One question, just ask it.”

You could visibly see him swallow, buying himself time to gather his courage.

“Will ye’ let me court ye’, lass?”

“Yes, yes Dwalin I think I will.”

You laughed out loud, euphoria filling your small frame, and you flung yourself against Dwalin. Your arms found his broad shoulders and thanks to his warrior’s reflexes he managed to catch you with one hand, still holding the box with the other, all the while not even realising what had happened. Before he had time to process that you were in his arms – well, arm – you kissed him, and when his brain finally caught up with reality, he kissed you back as well.

---

Several months later, you lay sprawled out on your marriage bed, feeling practically weightless. Dwalin lay beside you, on his side with one arm resting over your stomach.

“Did ye’ enjoy that lass?” He asked, a teasing note in his tone as he looked at you, though there was an undercurrent of insecurity. He still didn’t quite know how an old, battle-scarred dwarf like him had managed to wed a sweet wee hobbit like yourself.

You turned your head slowly to look at him, your eyebrows raised almost to your hairline.

“Dwalin love, are you kidding? That was incredible.” You smiled softly at him and reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, and when your fingers lightly brushed over his facial hair he groaned a little and pressed into the touch.

“Oh? Dear husband, would you like to go again?”

His eyes snapped open in surprise. Of course he would very much like to, but he’d imagined that you would probably want to sleep after the first, as the wedding had been a long and – though very happy – rather tiring.

“A-again?” He choked out, and your smile turned mischievous.

“Oh yes, I think so.”

You pushed your hand against his shoulder and watched with satisfaction as he rolled onto his back, though you knew he could easily resist if he wanted to. You swung one leg over his thick waist and settled yourself above him, and he thought he might go blind to see such a vision above him.

“This time, however, I think you should lie back my dear, and let me take care of you.”

“Oh Mahal.”

Dwalin realised then that he would get little sleep that night, but as your form shifted over his, he realised that he did not care.

The End.

Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea @cd1242 @strongandfreedc @pixierox101 @jotink78 @luna-xial @underthemoon-imagines

[kriscme]

One Life to Live

Hi, so now we come to the end.  The final two chapters.  Thanks to everyone who’s been following this story.  It can be read on AO3 too.  My name is Kris22 there.  As always, thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” available on AO3 and Fanfiction.  And thanks to Loueze for her encouragement and support.  Chapter 37 By the time the television crew was due to arrive, Peeta and I were as convincingly in love as two people could possibly be.  Of course, it was helped a great deal by the fact that we actually were.  Even so, we were hardly looking forward to our private lives becoming public again and cameras following us around as we went about our daily routine.  We worried about how intrusive it might be. Cressida had promised it would be tasteful, but the Capitol idea of tasteful can be very different from the districts.  I was afraid that it might be like that show I once saw on television about a houseful of people under constant surveillance.  They couldn’t even shower in privacy.  Would it be like that for Peeta and me?  Would they follow us into the bedroom?  Expect us to perform?  Our one consolation was that we’d be left alone once filming had ended and we vowed to ourselves that we’d do nothing newsworthy for the rest of our lives.   The day came. The house had been cleaned and tidied.  Everything was where it was supposed to be to reflect a couple who lived together as romantic partners.  Buttercup was bathed and freshly groomed.  I had the scratches to prove it.  Peeta, always considerate, had baked an assortment of breads for the crew, although I told him he shouldn’t bother.  At 7 am everything was in readiness.  10 am came and went.   And then 11 am.   At 2 pm we were still waiting.   At 4 pm we wondered if we’d got our dates wrong.   It was 6 pm when Haymitch finally got around to telling us.  They weren’t coming.  At all.   The video Remus took had violated victor media protection.  I had been filmed without my consent, wasn’t engaged in illegal activity and hadn’t voided my own protection by taking on a public role or seeking publicity.  Plutarch knew this but gambled that in our ignorance, we could be coerced into co-operating.  And once filming had started, our media protection was automatically revoked, since we had clearly consented to it.   It took only one phone call from Haymitch to President Paylor to have it sorted.   I suppose it’s of some consolation that Plutarch was severely reprimanded and threatened with dismissal.  And that he was also out of pocket for the purchase of the video and pre-production costs. As for Haymitch, I couldn’t decide whether to thank him or kill him.  He had certainly saved us from our lives being turned into a media circus for a second time but he’d let us have the worry of it for a whole week.  Peeta calmed me down and reminded me that it had brought us together.  Haymitch’s defense was that he was sick to death of our crap and wanted an end to it. He thought that a week of living together would get us sort out our differences and he was proven right.   I argued that it would have happened anyway, although I had to concede probably not as quickly.  With that in mind, I decided to let him live.   The year rolls around.  Peeta doesn’t move back into his house. It was never discussed; it was simply taken for granted.  We keep busy.  Peeta still works at the bakery as a specialist cake decorator.  He’s a partner now.  The sign above the new premises reads “Carter and Mellark Bakery and Patisserie.”  I teach at the school and on weekends I hunt. Marcus wrote to ask if I was interested in culling pest species such as wild dog and feral pig.  I jumped at it.  It seems you can be a hunter and a conservationist.   Haymitch works at the council and raises geese, which he does a pretty good job of considering he’s inebriated most of the time. We attend two weddings and one toasting.   Arthur and Lace don’t wait long before they tie the knot, or to be more accurate, thread the needle. Predictably, it was the source of much hilarity for Max, who was also invited.  At least he refrained from making jokes until after the ceremony.  I enjoyed catching up with Sateen and her husband Roy. They have a little boy.  They called him Felt.   Poor kid.   The second wedding was Octavia and Thom’s. Octavia made a beautiful bride with her rich auburn hair and fresh complexion.  Venia’s fear that their past as prep team to the Games would jeopardize their position in 12 proved needless.  Everyone knew who they were.  They’d seen them on television.  Flavius’s bright orange hair and Venia’s facial tattoos made them easily recognizable. But people had moved on.  They were tired of holding onto resentments – especially for three harmless beauty therapists whose former “victim” still willingly availed herself of their services.   The toasting was ours.  One day, we just did it.  There was no planning, no prior understanding that we’d have one.  It was the middle of winter.  We were snowed in and confined to the house.  Peeta got a roaring fire going and we picnicked in front of it using odds and ends from the pantry.  We had some stale bread to use up and toasted it by the fire.  He’d hold the toasting fork with a piece of bread to the flames and offer it to me when it was done.  The significance of it entered our heads at the very same moment. It was just a look followed by a kiss. Nothing needed to be said.  One day we might make it official, but for us we’re more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.   Johanna won the election for District 7 mayor. She’s kept very busy but we talk on the telephone regularly.  She’s coming to visit 12 for a few days next month.   Doubtless she’ll be as disruptive as ever.  But sometimes we can use a little stirring up.  That’s what Johanna says anyway.  She takes full credit for getting Peeta and me back together and I can’t say she’s entirely wrong.   And we had a visit from my mother!  I had her possessions shipped to her home in District 4 and it seemed to have jolted something inside her, because soon after she was making plans to travel here.   It was a short visit.  She was nervous about coming here, of the memories it could evoke.  But aside from the Village, there’s nothing left of the old Twelve.  The debris from the bombs has long since been cleared away, new buildings have replaced the old, and the grass grows long and thick over the meadow.   We had a long talk about her reasons for not joining me in Twelve after I’d been released from the Capitol.  She feared being pulled down into a depression along with me.   I understood.  When you’re in the grip of it, you can see no way out.  My mother, having recovered once, was deathly afraid that she wouldn’t recover a second time.  And since misery feeds on misery, she would likely have only made mine worse.   Peeta is somewhere in the house repairing the painting of the primrose he did for me.  I don’t visit Prim in her room anymore except for that one time I when I wanted to tell her about my toasting with Peeta.   She wasn’t there.  She hasn’t been for a long time.  It was then I realized that Prim doesn’t reside in any particular place.  She’s with me every time I think of her.  I took down the primrose painting from the top of the dresser.  It belongs somewhere where I will see it every day.   I had an idea for a book, similar to my family’s plant book.   It’s to preserve the happy memories of the people we’ve lost.   Lady licking Prim’s cheek, what Cinna could do with a length of silk.  In my best handwriting, I carefully record all the details it would be a crime to forget and accompany it with a photo if we have one, or a sketch or painting by Peeta. There are photos of Finnick strewn across the dining table as I try to make my mind up on which one to use - a publicity shot that shows off Finnick’s sea-green eyes or a photo taken of himself and Annie at their wedding.   “Katniss, I was looking for some kind of adhesive tape to fix the painting and I found this letter in one of the drawers in the study.  It was addressed to me, so I opened it.” I look up, wondering what Peeta’s talking about.  He holds the painting in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other.  He leans the painting up against a wall and then pulls out one of the dining room chairs to sit across from me.  He lays the letter down in front of him.  I immediately recognize the handwriting on it as my own.  It’s the first letter I wrote to him after the mayor’s party before I thought better of it and wrote a second.  But not before putting it in an envelope and stuffing it in a drawer.  I’d forgotten all about it.   I try to snatch the letter away but he swiftly puts it out of my reach.  “Dear Peeta,” he reads. “I’m writing to you because – ““You don’t have to read it.  I know what’s in it,” I say.  “Give it back.”  I make another grab for it but he’s too fast. “. . . because I’m sure to get it wrong, or miss something important if I do this face to face.” He stops reading and hands me the letter.  I take it from him, refold it, and slip it beneath the memory book, hoping against hope, that this will prevent any more mention of it. “Did you really want to break off all contact with me?” he asks, frowning.  “I didn’t think it ever got that bad.  When?  Why?” I sigh. Why didn’t I throw the damn letter out? “It was after the mayor’s party.  I was very upset when I wrote it.  And then I had second thoughts and wrote you another. That’s the one I slipped under your door.  I’d forgotten about this one.” He gives his head a shake. “I don’t understand. Nothing happened that night.  Not between us, anyway.  Did someone say something?  Was it Max?”  His lips thin in anger.  “That – “ “No,” I say quickly.  “It was nothing Max did.” I let out a breath, and plough forward. “It was something you did.  You and Lace.  It was when you sneaked off to have sex.” There’s a moment of stunned silence.  “What?” “You know what I mean.  I saw it all.  Well, not all, but I did see the two of disappear through those swinging double doors only the staff used.   And when you came back, Lace’s hair was all mussed. And if you didn’t have sex exactly, it was something close.  That was really tacky, Peeta.  Civilized people have more decorum than to do that.  Civilized people wait until they get home.  Civilized people – “ “Katniss, we didn’t sneak off for sex. Cass invited me to see the kitchens once the dessert course was over.  That’s where we went.”   Oh.  I guess that’s a reasonable explanation.  But that dream had been so vivid.  “Then why was Lace’s hair messed up?” “Was it?  I don’t know.  I don’t remember anything different about her.  We went to see the kitchen, Cass showed us around, and then we came out. Nothing else happened.”   “But it was sticking out,” I insist.  I know what I saw.   The scene plays again in my head.  I was at the bar with Haymitch and Max, sampling shots of whisky and getting drunker and more agitated by the minute.  Agonizing over what they could be doing.  Kissing, fondling each other, maybe even fucking. “And then you didn’t even look to see if I was still there when you came back,” I add in a small pitiful voice.  It sounds so pathetic, saying it aloud.  It’s a trivial reason for cutting someone out of your life. Just because they didn’t look for you when they came into a room.   But after everything, that’s what tipped it over for me.  What finally made me give up hope and decide to end it. He reaches across the table to take one of my hands.  “Katniss, look at me.” I turn my face away, and he gives my hand a tug.  I reluctantly meet his gaze.  His eyes look earnestly into mine.  “I can’t explain the hair, okay?  But I can tell you what I do remember about that night.” He pauses, as if waiting for my approval before he proceeds.  I shrug.   “Go ahead.” He closes his eyes for a few seconds.  “You, looking so beautiful in your Cinna dress.  And me, assailed by memories of other entrances and other gowns.  Being dragged around by Lace from one boring conversation to another, unable to resist looking around to see what you were doing.  And Max, who didn’t leave your side for a minute unless it was to get you another drink. I was jealous of him without knowing why but attributed it to a fear of losing your friendship.” He pauses and adds, “At the time, you didn’t seem very happy with me.”I feel a twinge of remorse.  He’s right.  I was often moody and distant with him.  The tape viewings weren’t going as I wanted and I’d recently learned of a pattern book he was making for Lace, similar to my family’s plant book.  “You seemed to be having such a good time together, at dinner and on the dance floor. So, when we came back into the ballroom, I just didn’t want to be reminded of it.  I kept my head down and headed for the nearest group of people.  And then I did my best not to think about you.  I’m sorry.   I hurt you and used Lace to hide from my feelings.  But that’s the truth, awful as it is.”   But not nearly as awful as what I’d convinced myself of.   I don’t know what to say.  I feel so foolish.  So much anger and pain for something that existed only in my imagination.   And I’d also assumed that Peeta’s willingness to help me with the Marcus thing was due, in some part, to either empathy or guilt for having being in a similar situation himself. “No, I’m the awful one for jumping to conclusions.  I thought the worst.  You’d never be so crass as to do something like that.  I owe you an apology.  I should never – “ “You don’t owe me anything,” he says, interrupting me before I can go further.   “In fact, the opposite is true.  You wouldn’t have thought it if I hadn’t given you reason to.” He reaches across for the memory book and flips through the pages we’ve done so far.  My father. Peeta’s father.  Boggs.  It stops on Rue.  Peeta has drawn her poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight.  There’s a reason why I asked him to portray her like this.  It’s how I want to remember her.  You can’t change the past, but you can bring the best of it into the future.   “Let’s make a deal.  Only good memories for us from now on.  Like this book you’re working on.”   He walks over to where I’m sitting to pull me out of my chair.  “Now come show me where you want this painting hung.”  I take him into the living room.  It’s the room we use most and where I’ll see it every day.   As I decide where to place it exactly, Peeta comes to stand at my back to hug me from behind.  I lean back against his broad chest and luxuriate in the strong arms that encircle me.   My dandelion in the spring.  The lullaby that Prim liked as a baby comes to mind.   Here it’s safe, here it’s warmHere the daisies guard you from every harmHere your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them trueHere is the place where I love you. “I was thinking over the mantle?  Or maybe on the far wall . . .”    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 38 Lace’s story: what happened on the night of the mayor’s party.   It wasn’t fair!  This was supposed to have been her night.   She had been looking forward to it for weeks ever since Peeta casually mentioned it on one of their date nights.  The mayor’s inauguration party was to be the biggest social event in District 12 in living memory.  All the important and influential people in the district would be there.  For ambitious Lace, it was invaluable in terms of creating contacts and securing the kind of clientele that could afford to buy her evening wear, a design niche she wanted to develop.   Besides, she dearly loved a party and she hadn’t been to one in ages.  The last one had been the district party where she had met Peeta for the first time.   He didn’t remember it though.   That was fortunate since she had come to District 12 for a new life and a new identity and didn’t want her past in District 8 compromising it in any way.   Since she was to be her best advertisement, she put a great deal of thought and effort into her gown.  She hadn’t much money saved but she splurged the lot on pale yellow satin and then spent many hours making it up.   The final touch was a trip to the salon to have her hair colored and styled.  It was an extravagance, keeping up the hair color.  But she loved it and it formed something of a disguise as it was subtly different from the typical ash brown of the natives of her home district.   As she entered the ballroom, Lace felt she was at the beginning of an exciting new phase.  After a slow start, her business had gained momentum and she was making a steady income.   A few family members had also made the move to 12 which added to her sense of security.  But best of all, was the man on whose arm she clung.  How did she get so lucky?  Peeta Mellark!  Her teenage crush.  The romantic heartthrob whose posters had adorned her bedroom wall.  The boy she had married in her dreams every night.  What a fortuitus twist of fate it had been that day when he came into her shop to have a coat made.  A flirtation had led to a date at a restaurant and then another, until she could now, without exaggeration, call him her boyfriend! True, he wasn’t quite what she had expected.  He seemed a bit aimless, and he liked activities she had outgrown, like hanging out at the ice-cream parlor and the swimming pool, but he was Peeta Mellark!   And he really was so sweet and considerate with his little romantic gestures and compliments to her beauty.  He told her she was a wonder.  And the more she kissed and flattered and stroked, the more wonderful she became.  It was a mutual admiration society that she was more than happy to live in.  The one blot on her happiness was Katniss Everdeen.  Lace had mixed feelings about meeting her. Katniss was intimidating.  Her reputation as romantic heroine, fearless symbol of the Rebellion, skillful warrior and (privately thought by most of the populace) savior from another Snow, preceded her.  But most intimidating of all was her relationship with Peeta.  He talked about her all the time. Not in a romantic sense, it was true, but it was clear she occupied a great deal of his thoughts.  The Games had been mandatory viewing and Lace, like everyone in Panem, had watched Peeta gaze at Katniss with love in his eyes.  But Peeta had an explanation for that.  It had been an illusion.  He thought he had been in love with her, but it turned out that he was in love with his idea of her, rather than who she really is.  But now he thought of her as very good friend with whom he shared an unbreakable bond.  As for Katniss, well, she had never loved him.  It had all been an act on her part. That should have been reassuring.  And it was.  Sort of.  But Peeta had lost many of his memories and what was left was distorted, so how could he be certain? But what gave her most pause wasn’t Peeta.  It was Katniss.  It was clear at the first meeting that Katniss didn’t like her.  Katniss wasn’t rude, but she was cool, even giving her the once over when they were first introduced.  And when Lace and Peeta discussed a housewarming gift from the two of them for Lace’s brother, a shadow passed over Katniss’s face.  It was subtle but unmistakable.  Katniss wasn’t as disinterested in Peeta as Peeta made out. That’s why Lace gatecrashed the tape viewings.  If there was anything going on, she wanted to know about it.  She didn’t trust Katniss one inch.  Unfortunately, the second of the tapes triggered the memory of a traumatic incident for Lace and she reacted hysterically.  Peeta asked her not to attend anymore and she had no choice but to do as he said.   However, despite Peeta watching video tape of hugs and kisses and romantic slow dancing at Capitol parties, nothing changed between herself and Peeta.  If Peeta had ever loved Katniss, it appeared that he no longer did.   Even Leevy’s revelations in the salon that day didn’t worry her for long.  So what if the star-crossed lovers had been real?  It still aligned with Peeta’s version.  What had happened in the Games and during the tours was before Peeta had realized his true feelings for Katniss.  And she’d already guessed that Katniss was in love with him.   The party was everything Lace had dreamed of. So elegant. The women in evening gowns, the men in dinner suits.  Waiters with silver trays laden with flutes of sparkling champagne. The tables resplendent with starched white tablecloths and napkins and gleaming cutlery.  She turned to Peeta to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” she said. “You really are the best boyfriend.”  He brushed her lips with his and gave her a fond smile.  “Only because I have the best girlfriend,” he replied.   She beamed and squeezed his arm.  She could hardly recall a happier moment.   And then Katniss Everdeen arrived.  Lace’s practiced eye immediately recognized her gown as haute couture.  Cinna, probably.  Deep blue, the bodice studded thickly with diamonds – were they real? – with a strapless sweetheart neckline and more diamonds scattered on the skirt.  It dazzled and Katniss dazzled with it.  Luxuriant dark hair cascading down her back in loose curls.  Smooth olive skin, fine features and those surprising eyes.  Silvery gray, the colour of storm clouds.  She had a man for each arm.  The school teacher Max Matson, who all the girls agreed was very good looking if you could get past his personality, and – it couldn’t be – Arthur!  Lace’s friend who adored her since they were children together.  She knew he was coming tonight but not with her!  She felt the arm beneath her fingers stiffen and her glance swiftly turned to his face.  Peeta appeared stunned, his mouth gaping slightly.  There was admiration, certainly, but also something darker and more sinister.  Recognition. A memory, perhaps several, had resurfaced.   Lace’s happiness dimmed as if a cloud had passed across the sun.  But she rallied, pulling Peeta quickly along to greet the new mayor and his wife who were momentarily on their own.  Lace was in her element.  She was a natural networker.  She loved to interact with people and was always searching for opportunities.  Peeta seemed a little distracted though. Looking around, not quite keeping up with the conversation.   She followed his gaze, and it led directly to Katniss Everdeen, who, no surprise, was looking directly at him.  They both looked quickly away, but that was of no comfort.  It was clear that they were on each other’s mind. Meanwhile, she was pleased to observe, Arthur had detached himself from Katniss and was busy working the room too.  Now there was a man with get-up-and-go.  He didn’t let his natural reserve get in the way of achieving his ambitions.  Lace waved him over and he changed direction to come to her side.  Soon they were talking business, a fascinating subject for them both. She didn’t notice how restless Peeta was during the exchange. Dinner was announced and everyone made their way to their allocated seats.  Unfortunately, theirs was a dull table and not even Lace’s pearly laugh could liven it up. A burst of laughter from nearby grabbed her attention.  Arthur and Haymitch seemed to be at the center of it.  It caught Peeta’s attention too.  He seemed envious, it appeared to Lace.  But whether it was over the entertaining company or because Katniss was seated there too, she couldn’t tell. After the food had been served, people resumed their mingling, moving from table to table. Peeta wanted to talk to Katniss.  Ordinarily, Lace wouldn’t feel particularly threatened by this.  Over the preceding weeks, Peeta had confided to her that Katniss seemed uninterested in spending time with him unless it was watching the tapes.  And even then, she often seemed angry with him. Lace immediately guessed the situation. Katniss had grown frustrated with Peeta. He hadn’t responded as she’d hoped and she was distancing herself as a form of self-protection.  As long as this status quo was maintained, Lace felt safe. But after tonight, she wasn’t sure of anything.   Lace demurred.  Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea.  Katniss appeared occupied and hadn’t he told her that she didn’t seem keen on his company lately?  It was best to leave her alone.  But Peeta said that they should, that it would look odd if they didn’t.  So, when Max headed off in the direction of the bar, leaving Katniss on her own, Lace reluctantly let Peeta lead her to where Katniss sat.   It was an awkward conversation.  Lace embarrassed herself with her ignorance on what it meant to be a victor at the district parties and having to face the families of the dead tributes.  Worse, she let it slip that she had been to a district party.  Her story was that she’d been a factory worker in 8. Factory workers weren’t allowed to attend district parties.  Fortunately, Peeta didn’t pick up on it, but Katniss appeared to sense that something was amiss.   There was an awkward pause.  Peeta broke the silence.  “Are you going to let me talk to Katniss?” he said to Lace, pretending to be annoyed.  She had intended to stay at Peeta’s side, but perhaps it would be better to leave before she dug herself a deeper hole. “Okay, okay,” she said, in mock surrender.  “I know when I’m not wanted.  I need to go to the ladies’ room anyway.  Just stay out of trouble and don’t bug Katniss.” There, that would show Katniss who’s really in charge and hopefully plant a seed that Peeta wasn’t exactly happy in her company either.  She stroked his hand and kissed his cheek, enjoying her Svengali-like effect, knowing that his eyes would follow her as she walked away. She went to the ladies’ room as she said she would and did the usual things women do there.  She wanted to get the timing right and was gratified to see Peeta waiting for her at their table when she returned.   The dancing started up soon after and Lace pulled Peeta to his feet.  She loved to dance.  Peeta didn’t. His prosthetic leg made it a chore rather than a pleasure and he had faint memories of dancing at Capitol parties. But he wanted to be a good boyfriend, so up he got, and shuffled dutifully around the dancefloor with her. But then Katniss and Max came into view. Max had Katniss pulled tightly against him and he swung her around in a series of fancy turns, almost lifting her off her feet.  They were making fools of themselves, thought Lace.  That’s no way to behave at a formal event. So undignified!  So tasteless!  She turned to Peeta, expecting him to be as unimpressed as she, but his face was hard, giving away nothing.  Suddenly, he put his head close to hers and whispered words in her ear.   She nodded and followed him through the double swinging doors the staff used to bring food from the kitchen.  It had been pre-arranged.  Peeta had told her about it.  Cass from the bakery was to show Peeta around the kitchens. He had never seen a commercial kitchen before.   While he marveled at the long row of ovens, the walk-in freezer, the huge storage room, Lace could barely stifle her yawns.  So boring, and it was fricking cold in there after the warmth of the ballroom. But she stuck a smile on her face and did her best to appear interested but she was hardly in the mood to hear about the merits of blast chillers when her heart was breaking.  Somehow, she had to widen the gulf between Katniss and Peeta. She had to ensure that any fledgling signs of a possible reunion between them was snuffed out before it could begin. And then she had an idea. Just as they were about to re-enter the ballroom, Lace ruffled her carefully styled hair and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth to wipe away some of the lipstick, smearing it a little. Let Katniss believe that she and Peeta had snuck away for some canoodling in a dark corner.  Isn’t that what Peeta and Katniss did as star-crossed lovers?  Sneaking off to be alone when they were at fancy events? It was in a fan magazine she’d read, anyway.  With a bit of luck, Katniss’s mind would go straight there.   She scanned the room and saw Katniss by the bar with Max and Haymitch.  The hour was growing late and the crowd had thinned but there was a group of merry young people standing around nearby.  She started to lead Peeta in their direction, but he seemed to have the same idea and led her.  And when his arm went around her waist and he pressed a fond kiss to the crown of her head, relief flooded through her.  Everything was as it should be.  She turned in his arms slightly to look over his shoulder and managed to catch a glimpse of Katniss’s stricken but resolute face, just before her hasty exit with a startled Max close behind her.   Satisfied, she leaned her head against Peeta’s shoulder and he squeezed her waist.  She had worried over nothing.  It was inevitable that as Peeta regained his memories they’d be focused on Katniss. They were, after all, the memories that Snow had meddled with.  It didn’t mean that Peeta was wrong when he said his feelings for her had been an illusion. The real proof of who he loved was in who he chose to be with.  And that was her, Lace Bomul from District 8.  

[write-like-you-mean-it]

A Hunter’s Prey: Doors and Hotel Rooms

I suddenly realized how all of this might look to an outsider. I, a fully grown adult, was talking with a child about the whereabouts of his best friend. He seemed so young and hopeful yet I could see some anguish deep within his eyes. It's the same look Illumi gives me when I ask about his past. It's the heartbroken look a mother gets when discussing an unborn child. 

Gon’s facial expressions scrunch up the rest of his face. “You’re friends with Illumi? Why?” This child’s hand was firmly on the door with the look that he'd shut in on my face if I said anything wrong. 

“Well,” I sigh looking down at the ring on my finger. “It’s a long, long story. Let’s just say that I had no way to not be his friend.”

“Are you being manipulated?” asked the green-haired boy. His eyes were squinted why he pursed his lips into a frown. “Do you need help?”

A smile crossed my face before I shook my head. “No I am completely alright. I’m here to see you.”

“I know that,” said Gon. “Are you going to give any information back to Illumi about Killua.”

A chuckle came from my lips. The sky had become a deep mauve before turning to night. Sea air held a misty feel around the small house. “As much as I would love to, he’s gone on a business trip far away. He told me that he’s going to be gone for a month at least.”

“Where would he go?”

“He’s with the Phantom Troupe on a mission. Illumi refused to tell me more about it,” I sighed while shifting the backpack. 

“Illumi joined the Phantom Troupe?” shouted the little boy as if this was a huge revelation. How did he know about the Phantom Troupe? Who was this kid? I felt as though I was back in the manor and Illumi was refusing to tell me anything once again. He’d sent me on a mission with so little information that it was going to be a struggle to even survive, let alone, find information about his brother. “Kurapika is going to be so angry. I should try to call him again. Maybe Leorio can tell him.”

Kurapika? Leorio? These names sound so familiar. Where have I heard those names before? No. I read them. They’re in the little book that Illumi had. I pushed the backpack off my back and started rummaging around inside until I felt the hard leather. My hands skimmed the pages until I found those stars. 

“You’re talking about Kurapika and Leorio Paradinight right?”

Gon’s eyes beat down on me as if I was going to attack him. He must be waiting for something dangerous to transpire. “Why do you know them? What’s in that book?”

“Oh,” I exclaim while closing the book. “It’s nothing. Illumi gave it to me before he left. I saw it when I was at the house and looked through. Yours, the other two, and Hisoka’s name were the only ones treated with a little star by them. It seemed harmless enough when I asked. He just said you guys were friends of Killua.”

“Illumi talked about me?” 

“Not really. Just enough to say that you’re Killua’s best friend.”

“I thought Illumi didn’t believe in friends.”

“No. Hisoka’s his friend.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No. He told me the opposite but he was upset when Hisoka died,” I said nonchalantly while closing up the backpack once again. 

“Hisoka’s dead?” gasped the little boy. “What? How? What happened? How do you know? How did he die?”

I shook my head at the questions before the flashbacks would appear once again. Flashbacks of Shalnark att strung up and bleeding from the swingset or Kortopi’s head sitting next to them. Even the ferocious look Machi gave to me when I had to cut her out of his trap. “Hisoka’s not dead now. He fought with someone in Heaven’s Arena and almost died. Well, he was dead and now he’s not.”

Gon’s face changed to a quizzical look. “So Hisoka isn’t dead.”

“Gon,” called the woman from inside the house. The boy turned to look back inside his abode.“It’s getting late. You still have a lot of school work to do tomorrow. Tell your friend you’ll see them tomorrow.”

He turned back to me before slowly starting to close the door. “I’ll meet you in the marketplace tomorrow. I’m not going to tell you about Killua just yet. He’s my best friend and he’s running from his brother.”

“Oh,” I say while cocking my head to the side. “I didn’t know he was running.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N,” said the boy as he finished closing the door. I was left in the pale light of the house's interior. My head began pounding at the thoughts that rushed through my brain. This was going to be much harder than I originally thought. 

I turned to go back to the central square of the small island. I‘d hope there would be a hotel that would allow guests. The once crowded, bustling square became desolate in the night. Shop keepers had closed down many hours ago. All that was left were a few empty stalls and a small building on the side. The lights were still on and a sign was hung stating: vacancies.

I walked into the quant building that seemed more like a bed and breakfast rather than a hotel. The front desk person was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a sign that read “ring bell for service.” A shiny silver bell was placed next to the sign. 

A single tap was enough to ring throughout the small entrance. A groggy woman stepped through the door. “Want a room?”

“Yes please,” I said while looking for the card Illumi had given me only hours ago. Had it only been hours? Time seemed to move so quickly whenever I wasn’t near my love. 

“How long will you be staying?”

I looked down at the fully black card with gold lettering that read: Illumi Zoldyck. “I’m not sure. Let's start with a week.”

“You’re going to stay here a week?” questioned the lady. A heavy scent of cigarettes filled the air every time she spoke. “No one stays here a week.”

“Okay,” I questioned. Her apathetic attitude threw me off. “Then we’ll say 4 days. Is that much better?”

“It’s your money sweetheart. Not mine. You can do what you want.”

The lady typed on an old computer. She picked up on the other keys that hung behind her in a rack. “Your room is on the second floor to the left. You’ll have to find your own breakfast. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” I said while taking my card and key from her hand. I climbed the stairs that were only a little further than the front desk. Indented in the key was the number three. Passing doors one and two, a thought ravaged my head. This was the first normal thing I was doing without Illumi. Getting a room and going to sleep as if I was on vacation or a small business trip. 

Loneliness settled deep within me. Freedom was always a prideful thought that pursued my life. Now I was a sad puppy with the hopes that Illumi would return to my side once again. I shook away the insecurities as I arrived at my door. 

The room was quiet. The designer must’ve been someone much older than myself. A quilt was placed on top of the bed to give some pizzazz to the bland space. The white walls were a different shade than the white carpet. 

A sigh left my lips while I flung the bag onto the bed. My body followed soon after. I rubbed my aching temples while my eyes stayed firmly shut. It wasn’t until I noticed a small shine that I fully opened them. The light reflected so beautifully off the diamond ring. “Lumi,” I mumbled while cuddling into the sheets. “What should I do?”

I knew Illumi wouldn’t tell me even if he was here. This was my problem to solve without him. Illumi was such an ass when he wanted to teach me anything. This mission was no exception. Illumi’s the biggest ass that I’ve ever known. But he’s mine. I miss him. 

I need to learn more about Gon before I can continue to tell him about secret information. If I could reverse time, I’d kick myself for giving away information about Hisoka. I could’ve used it as leverage for information with Killua. I’m so stupid. I don’t deserve the Zoldyck name. 

I groaned while finally sitting up in bed. I have to get down to business. If anyone would know the dirt on anyone, it would be the Zoldycks. Sadly, my favorite one was out of the picture. Kalluto should be on the ship too. Killua wouldn’t answer the phone. This leaves one Zoldyck sibling to call: Milluki.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Full Masterlist

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

You woke up alone and confused. None of your surroundings looked familiar and you racked your brain trying to remember where you were. 

Ah, right. The wolf pack. This was their house. And you were in some random wolf’s room. 

Soomi was no longer beside you, nothing but rustled sheets where she’d fallen asleep so easily last night. She must have already gone downstairs. Great. Now you’d have to make the descension on your own. Gathering up your toiletries, you slowly pulled open the door and searched around the hallway. Voices echoed up from the living spaces below, but besides that there didn’t seem to be a soul around. 

With the coast clear, you hightailed it over to the bathroom, finding it made easy by the fact that someone had left it wide open. Double checking that the door was securely locked, you went through a quick version of your morning routine and then rushed back to the bedroom to get changed. 

Once you were ready to head downstairs, you found yourself frozen, unable to tackle that first step. 

Come on, (y/n). They’re just wolves. They won’t hurt you. What’s the worst that could happen?

Bravery at its highpoint, you buckled down the nerves bubbling in your stomach and headed down the stairs. 

The kitchen felt like chaos personified as soon as you stepped foot in its boundaries. 

Wolves and their mates were scattered all over the linoleum; eating, standing, talking loudly, and overall creating an atmosphere that made you want to turn around and jump back in between the covers. Unfortunately, you were spotted before you could even try. 

“(y/n), you’re up!” Soomi oh-so-graciously pointed you out as soon as she saw you. Too many eyes to be even remotely comfortable whirled on you, creating a silence that was even more compressing than the noise. 

Unsure of what else to do, you waved with a strained smile on your lips. “Hi.”

“(y/n), go ahead and sit down,” Junmyeon offered as he half-shoved, half-urged one of the wolves out of a chair from the table. 

“Hey!” the black-haired wolf whined with a pout as he stumbled to his feet. 

“You’re done eating, Jongdae, and she’s a guest,” Junmyeon huffed. He said it like such a mom you couldn’t help but choke back a snort. 

You tried to cover it up with a cough while several of the wolves smirked at you. Waving your hands in front of you, you insisted, “No, really, it’s okay. I’d rather stand.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Soomi asked, concerned. 

“I’m good for now,” you said. It was mostly true. You were too nervous even think about trying to get food down to your stomach. Feeling a bit exposed in your current position, you shuffled across the room until you were next to Soomi at the counter. 

One of the wolves dressed in very casual athletic wear handed you a fresh mug that was a comfort to your sweaty cold fingers. 

“Thank you,” you told him quietly. He gave you a wide gummy smile before walking away. 

“So, should we get started?” Junmyeon suggested as he clapped his hands. 

“What about Sehun?” a tall wolf with ears sticking out asked. 

“He stayed out late last night,” said the imposing wolf with a deep voice and an air that radiated authority. He was seated at the breakfast booth with an adorable little girl with long hair sitting on his lap. “If he wants to keep sleeping, let him. We’ll catch him up later.”

Sehun? Was that who you saw last night? Too bad you didn’t have a face to add to the name. All you had were a pair of shoulders in a white t-shirt. If you were going to be here a while, you might as well start learning the names of the crowd. Junmyeon was the only one you knew and that was from a brief encounter several years ago. He wasn’t mated back then….

“(y/n)?”

You blinked, coming back to the present. “Yeah?”

“Can you go into detail about your last vision, please?” Junmyeon asked. 

“Um, sure.” Scratching the back of your head, you searched for the best way to verbalize what you had seen so that they would understand. “This one was the most clear, I guess? I was in the woods, at night. The blood moon was high and bright. A woman I didn’t recognize was there. She had platinum hair, but that’s all I could tell. I couldn’t see her face.”

“So, in your visions, you’re physically there as well?” one of the wolves asked. 

You nodded in response. “That’s what it feels like anyway.”

“Is it possible that this woman might be a witch?” Junmyeon hypothesized. 

The wolf named Jongdae growled threateningly and pulled the woman standing next to him in closer to his chest. 

“Calm down, Jongdae,” said the authoritative wolf. “That business is over. I doubt someone else is coming after your mate. Especially now that she’s marked.”

“Well excuse me for being cautious over the witch and blood moon combination,” Jongdae scoffed. The woman in his arms patted his hands caringly. 

“So what should we do?” one of the younger wolves asked with great concern. His face was a strange combination of sharp and soft. Judging against the others, you guessed that he was one of the younger ones of the pack. 

The wolf with the ears pushed his mouth into a pout. “Is there anything we can do?”

Junmyeon ran a hand through his hair. “Soomi and I are going to do more research on who this woman could be or what significant events could happen under a blood moon. Kita is looking into it as well and will update me if she’s found anything when she gets back.”

You couldn’t help it. Even if you’d been fully awake you didn’t think you would have been to hold back your facial muscles from forming a look of disgust and sending it Soomi’s way. Was she really going to put herself through that?

As soon as she caught your stare, Soomi elbowed you in the stomach to make it go away. 

“Ow,” you hissed under your breath. Rubbing the sore spot by your hip, you happened to look up and meet eyes with a blonde haired wolf. He looked at you curiously, his head tilted to the side and a confused frown pulling on his eyebrows. You looked away as you formed your face back into a neutral expression. 

“Do you realize how much significance a blood moon has in different cultures?” another wolf scoffed. 

“Baekhyun’s right,” the authoritative wolf agreed. “You might be able to narrow it down, but there’s no way to get a definite answer. What good does that do?”

“It gives us a starting point at least,” Junmyeon argued. “In the meantime, we’ll see if (y/n) has anymore visions. Since the girls are staying here, we’ll know right away and be able to add whatever she sees to what we already know.”

“Which is an extremely short list.”

“Wait, they’re staying here?” Baekhyun looked like his alpha had just told him he wasn’t allowed to phase for a month. “Isn’t this place crowded enough?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Junmyeon was getting visibly frustrated. You felt a little sorry for the alpha. He was only trying his best. The circumstances didn’t exactly allow for much wiggle room. Granted, you weren’t too pleased about this whole thing either, but you’d done your arguing. Now you were going to just take whatever hits were sent your way. It couldn’t get any worse anyway. Right?

“I know construction on the other house isn’t finished yet, but we’ll have to make do. I promised Mother Willow that we would keep Soomi and (y/n) safe. I’m not going to risk them staying an hour away in the city where we can’t protect them.”

“We’ll stay out of your way as much as possible,” Soomi promised before looking pointedly down at you. 

With an obviously fake cheerfulness, you added, “Staying invisible is what I do best!”

Junmyeon didn’t find the joke particularly funny. “(y/n), that’s not neces-”

“Why is everyone having a meeting without me?”

All heads in the room turned to look at the newcomer. 

Standing at the bottom of the steps just inside the kitchen was the final wolf, the one you’d barely caught a glimpse of the night before. He was just as tall as you’d thought and your memory hadn’t exaggerated his wide shoulders. But when your eyes settled on his face, your heart did a cartwheel, banging against your sternum painfully. You looked away quickly, pretending to be uninterested in hopes of getting your heart rate back to normal. 

“Nice for you to finally join us, Sehun,” Jongdae said mockingly. 

“What did you do to your hair?” Junmyeon exclaimed in a very parental voice. But Sehun didn’t reply. 

Too curious for your own good, you looked back at the wolf to see why he didn’t answer. When you did, you frowned. 

Because he was staring right back at you, a confused expression scrunching his features. Was he not expecting you like the others? 

Your heart was nearly in your throat by now and you couldn’t get it to calm down. What the hell was wrong with you?

“Sehun!”

**

Sehun blinked, finally pulled from his confused state of mind. 

“What?” he snapped. Everyone was staring at him, including Soomi and another female he’d never seen before. 

“I asked ‘what did you do to your hair?’” Junmyeon repeated. 

Sehun bit back a smirk as he ran a hand over his new hair. 

It was supposed to come out as a more neon orange, but he didn’t completely hate the more copper tone it took on. That’s what he got for dying his hair blonde for years, he guessed. The new length was taking some getting used to, but he liked the lightness of it, already feeling cooler than the heaviness of the longer hair. 

Shrugging, he finally answered, “I wanted to try something different. Not like you haven’t done it before.”

Junmyeon looked like he wanted to argue back, but he held it back, only releasing a sigh and shaking his head. 

“So what did I miss?” Sehun asked, refusing to allow his eyes to flicker over to the additional females. Well, to one specific female really and it wasn’t Junmyeon’s old crush. 

When he’d first reached the kitchen, he’d been surprised at the fact that literally everyone in the pack – mates, members, and even little Mei – was shoved inside the food area. The atmosphere felt serious and tense, which was the exact opposite of what Sehun was wanting this morning after had gotten very little sleep. He wanted the chaotic yelling and roughhousing that he was used to. And food. He really wanted food. 

Stepping further into the kitchen, he forced himself to a stop when he realized what direction he was headed for. Why his body was headed for you was lost on him. Now he was stuck awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen with no way to play if off. 

“We were talking about what to do about (y/n)’s visions?” Kris answered. 

Sehun frowned. “Who?”

“That would be me.”

Turning to the voice that had called out, Sehun braced himself. Now he had a name to go with the face that had made him feel so confused. But why was he so confused? You were the witch who had seen something coming after them. Okay. Big deal. They were a large pack. They could hold their own against whatever came their way. They’d proven that with the hybrids years ago. So what were you doing here now and when would you leave?

The wolf in Sehun’s chest growled at his last question. What was that about? Sure, you were pretty, but that never moved Sehun before. He never cared about looks or anything like that before. But now there you were, holding a hand up and wiggling your fingers at him sarcastically and he was feeling… something. 

It took effort, but Sehun managed to tear his gaze away from you to look at his alpha. “Did she actually see anything this time?”

“Excuse you! I’m standing right here!” you barked. 

Rolling his eyes, Sehun shifted to face you head on. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as your eyes met. There was no control over it no matter how hard he tried to shove it down. Even if he couldn’t put a stop to it on the inside, he managed to stay composed on the outside. “Alright, then. Did you actually see something this time? Or do we still only have to go by what you felt?”

“Screw you!” 

Having touch a very sensitive nerve, you pushed off the counter and stormed up to him. However, instead of stopping in his face, you kept going, checking him with your shoulder before you continued on your way out the door. 

In any other given situation, Sehun would have mouthed off some sarcastic comment to get the last word in. But in the shove, your bare arm made contact with his, sending a shockwave through his body. It was a hot electricity - not the kind that hurt, but the kind he might find himself chasing after. Unable to help himself, he turned and watched you disappear into the backyard. 

“Was that entirely necessary?” Junmyeon whined. 

“Leave it to Sehun to piss off the witch,” Tao snickered behind him. 

Sighing, Soomi started for the back door. “It’s alright. She’s just having a hard time right now.”

“I think Sehun should go apologize to her.” Junmyeon gave the younger wolf a very pointed look. And for once, he wasn’t going to argue. He’d even taken a step to go find you. 

“No, that’s not a good idea right now,” Soomi argued. “Trust me. It’s better if it’s me that goes after her.”

Sehun didn’t argue. In fact, he whirled on his heels and headed in the opposite direction, right out the front door. As soon as his bare feet hit the grassy carpet, he shifted. 

He was only beginning to understand what had happened when he first saw you. And to be honest, he didn’t know how to feel. So, for now, he’d simply ignore it. He didn’t know if you felt or understood what was happening and he didn’t really feel like explaining it to you while everything else was going on. As long as you didn’t outright reject him, he had time. 

So, he was going to take all the time he wanted. 

**

You’d found a rather large tree to hide behind once you thought you were deep enough into the woods. Right now you wanted to be alone. There were too many bodies, too many eyes watching you and you hated it. How did they live so cramped in there? How were you supposed to live like that?

The worst was you were going to have to be around him. Sehun. 

Sure, you’d had similar thoughts in the beginning, when the visions first started. You thought everyone was making a bigger deal of them than necessary. But you got past that. You came to terms with the fact that this was truly something to be worried about. And now no one understood that more than you. To be questioned now...

Leaning your head back against the trunk, you tried to push away the scene from the kitchen. The best way to ignore your hurt feelings was to focus on something else. So you did. 

You were all alone out here and, while there wasn’t any water, you had plenty to work with. There was a slight breeze in the air, rustling the fallen leaves that were scattered around the forest floor. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on moving the air at a faster speed. 

At first, nothing happened, but then you could feel the wind picking up against your skin. For some reason, that element was always the easiest for you to manipulate. All you had to do was let go, be light. And then you could make it move. 

“(y/n)?”

Your eyes snapped open and you peeked around the tree. Then you snorted. Soomi was standing just a few feet away, her hair whipped all around her face and stuck in her mouth. She blew out the hair and fixed it the best she could with her hand before taking a few more steps forward. 

“You really need to relearn restraint, (y/n),” she scolded as she sat down beside you. “These wolves are weary enough as it is. If they found out what you could do… I’m worried about how they’d react. I don’t want them to be scared of you.”

“So, I’ll always have to hide who I am, huh?” you scoffed. Why should you expect anything different?

“It’s not hiding who you are,” she insisted. “It’s simply protecting yourself. The last thing I want is for you to get used.”

“I can take care of myself,” you argued. 

Soomi gave you a smile before pulling you in close. “I know. But that won’t ever stop me from being protective over you.”

You couldn’t resist. You wrapped your arms around her waist and shuffled in deeper to the hug. After a few minutes of silence, you commented, “Coming here was pointless, just like I said.”

Soomi huffed. “It’s not pointless. We’ll find out the answers we’re looking for. Just give it time. Please?”

You didn’t answer. Because you didn’t want to. Even though you were out of Mother Willow’s house and away from the coven for the first time, you were feeling just as trapped. All you wanted was to be free. Free to see the world. Free to be who you were. 

It seemed no matter how hard you chased it, however, it would always be just out of your reach.

[the-tragic-hero-and-you]

Let’s make a secret

A/N: I’m just being an idiot. Let me have this. Anyways, a little Actor!Mark x Y/N for those of you who like rats. Angst and drunken seduction in this chapter. Also, Ethan get's fired for being an idiot butler.

Story: You and Mark use to be fast friend, but these days you barely talk to him anymore. Now with the Divorce approaching, Damien is worried for his dear friend and sends you to Markiplier Manor to keep him company. Mark doesn’t want to talk about life, preferring to just drink his troubled away with you. . .

The elections went well for Damien. Not only did he get the vast majority of the minority votes, but from others as well. It seemed to be quite a land slide of a victory for him, and you were proud to see how far he had come since the two of you met back in University. It was just him and another candidate now. If things go well, it looks like Damien will have another term to keep his Mayor title.

There was still a few months though, so you had to be at the top of your game to make sure he claims this victory as well. It’s what friends do. Sure, there was the controversy still going around since the last election, about how the two of you were using Damien to climb up in the ranks by giving him ‘special offers’. So many speculations arose, drugs, illegal trafficking, seduction. But no matter how ‘damnable’ the evidence was, It all fell flat and proven false in the end. Now people are just saying you both are secretly a couple. Granted, Damien is a handsome bastard. You can’t help but stare at him sometimes and smile. But he wasn’t your type. You and Damien preferred that the two of you stayed as fast friends til the end of your days, no matter what trials come before you. Nothing would shattered the bond you have.

It was another Sunday.

Or was it a Tuesday?

Doesn’t matter.

You were in your office, shuffling through some paper work when there was a light tapping on your door. listing your head up you noticed Damien peeking his head in. wit ha smile, you motioned him to come in, setting the papers to the side and giving him your full attention. You immediately knew something was wrong due to the look on his face, his gaze to the ground and his footing slower than usual. Damien was never forward when there was an incident that he had to address you about.

“Sorry, old friend. I certainly hope I’m not interrupting anything too critical towards your work.”

You shook your head, reassuring him that  whatever was on his mind was far more important. This seemed to relive him by a small portion as he forced a smile and approached your desk.

“Good, good. That’s good to hear. Uhh, look, the reason I’m asking, and the reason why I’m here is because. . . Well . . .I need to ask a favor of you. It’s important.”

He had your attention before. But with that tone and those words? All your plans for the rest of the day can wait. you leaned forward form your seat a little, resting your hands on your desk as you waited for Damien to continue. He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze off to the side as the man went through his thoughts, possibly rethinking what he was going to request of you. Eventually he shook his head, returning his attention towards you and finally spoke.

“It’s Mark.” He muttered, now nervously fiddling with his cane in hand. “He’s going through a rather rough patch right now. I’d love to go see him, but. . .I’m not sure if I’m the right person he wants to see right now. I figured that maybe a familiar face and trouble maker might lighten up his spirits right now.”

Ah yes, Mark. How on earth could you forget such an egotistical man? You did appreciate the actor coming to Damien’s defense about the whole ‘Sex scandal’ incident. Possibly had enough of people spreading rumors about his childhood friend. Nice to know there was still some decency in him ever since he became a big shot actor.

Honestly, you were on the fence about this. But is was Damien asking for this huge favor. The man was far too kind. No matter how big the asshole was, Damien treated him like a brother.

Well, a brother-in-law at one point. . .

You started organizing your things and put them away, indicating to the Mayor that you would do this for him.

“Thank you, my friend’“ He breathed with relief, his smile sincere as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he needs the distraction right about now. Who knows, maybe reminiscing about your shenanigans will lighten his spirits. Just don’t get him into trouble. The ban against you two at the Cafe la Ritz is still holding strong.”

You still don’t regret that night either.

After you left work and freshened up a little at home, you make your way to Markiplier Manor. You tried to recall the location and roads to take in your head as you turned your headlights on, realizing how dark it was becoming. you’ve only ever been to that house once. Even then, you didn’t exactly go inside, rather you just dropped Damien and Mark off at the place. They offered for you to come inside, but something didn’t feel right as you looked at the place. Anything that seemed like it was pulling you in was something you avoided greatly. But at this point, you didn’t have a choice. It’s not like you were going to force Mark to hang out with you outside for the rest of the evening.

You did miss him though. Very much. You might not have known him since childhood like Damien, but the two of you were like Partners in crime, always getting into trouble back in your University days. You were surprised that neither of you got expelled after the gun powder indecent at the museum. Maybe because it didn’t ignite. So many close calls and late nights just causing trouble, sometimes sober, sometimes intoxicated. Honestly, Mark really helped you forget about the crushing stress of life. After graduation though, things seemed to drift between the two of you. There would be the occasional call here and there, but eventually things went quiet. Life just got too busy. You were in law, he was in Hollywood and in between was Damien trying to hold something together.

Eventually even Damien stopped talking about Mark and just focused on running the city.

Finally you pulled up to your destination.

You sat in your car for a moment, looking up at the extravagant house. That uneasy feeling never left, that pulling sensation sent shivers down your spine. It felt like looking at a casket for yourself. Taking in a deep breath, you get out of your car and make your way towards the entrance, each step feeling as though it wasn’t your own as you draw closer to the house. The door was intimidating somehow, it wasn’t that big in your opinion, but you were too uneasy to knock. non the less, you brought your hand up, bringing it into a light fist and gave a knock. Almost instantly the door opened as you were greeted by a rather pencil neck looking butler with glasses. He looked like the kind of guy who would drown you in a tub or poke a hold in a cardboard box while you’re in it.

“Bonjour!” He greeted with a smile, “Do you have an appointment?”

you probably should have asked Damien if he called ahead and let them know you were coming. You shook your head a little, just in case arrangements were not made and you didn��t wanna be caught lying.

“AWW! I’m so sorry. . . Whatever it is you are. But the master is not to be disturbed with non appointed guests.” He said in an obnoxious and overly fake accent.

Just then you heard a familiar tone, a bitter one as well coming from the room behind the butler, the voice getting louder as the person walked up to the door. 

“Look, I don’t want to deal with any donations, salesmen or journalists right now! I just want to be left the fuck alon-!”

He caught glimpse of you just as you did of him. The raging voice that rang out seconds before halt the moment he recognized you, stepping closer before opening the door a little wider to get a better look at you. The man standing before you looked nothing like he did when you two last encountered. His eyes and cheeks were silken in a little, his hair unkempt, facial hair developing into nearly a beard and seemed to have lost some weight. As for his choice of clothes? Just as poor. Nothing more but a wrinkled red robe that’s barely tied on. His eyes scanned you just as much as you were him before he finally spoke.

“My God. You haven’t aged a day, you asshole.” Mark muttered, finally giving you a weak smile before gesturing you inside. “Come in, come in!” He enthusiastically offered. At least he was happy to see you, which was a relief. Walking in, the butler took your coat as you slipped out of it, looking around the rather nice layout before you. 

The balcony over head strangely caught your eye. . .

“So! Wow. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Mark spoke, snapping you out of your hazy thoughts and instantly towards him. You gave a nod and a warm smile as you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and a shake to greet him more properly. “Ah, God, that was. . . 4 years ago, wasn’t it? Man, how time flies when you’re going through so much to what life chucks at ya, huh?” He spoke while guiding you towards one of the visitation rooms, “Sorry I’ve been so out of touch. You know how it is. You going the opposite direction of how we use to be in our youth, and me just making matters worse. Personally, I think I make it more interesting.” You couldn’t help but shake your head to this comment. Mark has always been the one to justify his actions, being rather narcissistic as ever. You didn't look down on him about, not this time. The way he was walking and forcing a smile to stay on his face, it was clear he was trying to hide away whatever emotional pain was eating away at him.

You only knew what you've read in the papers about it all. How the upcoming divorce was effecting his acting and all that. You still felt terrible about missing the wedding, though now it seemed kinda pointless to have such regret now that it didn't work out.

He leads you into one of the front rooms in this place (The man has about 5 possibly, just like his ovens), offering you have a seat on the couch the moment he sits as well. “Sorry about being such a mess. A call ahead of time would have been nice, BUT since it's you, I can forgive it this one time. I mean, how often do you even come by anymore? Just give a little heads up next time, alright?” You gave a nod in agreement and apology, not really needing to voice how you didn't mean to be an inconvenience with an unannounced visit. That was something you liked about him, he seemed to know what you were meaning to tell him with just simple little gestures, both him and Damien in fact. It's as if just looking into your eyes tells them everything that's on your mind, which was very helpful since you didn't like to speak up very often, only when greatly needed.

“Well, since you're here, we can catch up more properly and forget about life for a change. Would you like a drink? Ha! Stupid question. Of course you would! BUTLER!”

“BoNJoUR!” The rather obnoxious butler said, suddenly popping up from behind the sofa the two of you were sitting in.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and get us a bottle of wine. Be snappy about it!”

“Bonjoooooooooour~!” He said as he slides his way out of the room.

You and Mark sit there for a moment, watching the heapass of a mean leave before tuning your attention back to one another.

“Anyways. . . It's so good to see you again, face to face.” Mark expressed in a sincere tone, taking your hand into his own and gave it a little pat. “Things have been pretty insane lately, so it's nice to have an old, non back stabbing friend in my midst.” That last part in his statement brought worry to grow in your chest, recalling how Damien assumed that Mark didn't want to see right now. Maybe there's been a bitter feud that occurred that you were not aware of.

Best to not let Mark known that this was Damien's idea.

You reassured Mark by giving his hand a gentle squeeze and a smile, scooting yourself a little closer to show you're comfort for being around him, despite the complete train wreck he was. Honestly, you've seen him look worse, like that time when the both of you got into a fight with a hand full of jocks. Those bruises stayed around for what felt like forever.

“BONjour!” The Butler finally arrived, shuffling his feet along the carpet s he approached the two of you, handing mark the bottle of wine as requested. The man looked at the bottle before looking back up to the butler with a look of grimace.

'. . . And GLASSES! Are we suppose to drink this with our god damn hands or what!?”

“OOF! Bonjour!” He spoke before dashing off in a rather odd manner.

You were rather taken back a bit by the sudden outburst from Mark. Normally he was level headed and was sly with his insults, doing such critical stabbing with his words with a smirk on his face. Not once have you witnessed him being so furious before. It was rather concerning, almost terrifying.

Mark noticed how uneasy you had become, seeming a little frantic as he placed the bottle of wine on the table and held your hand a little tighter. “Sorry! Sorry. It's difficult to deal with incompetent people these days. It's been nearly unbearable lately, you know.” You took note of this, how he became worried about scaring you away.

Mark was truly going through so much, wasn't he?

You tried to play it off like it was no big deal, giving a shrug and nod of understanding just as the butler returned with the glasses, setting them down on the table next to the wine bottle. With one last irritating 'Bonjour', the butler took his leave, allowing you and Mark to finally be alone.

The man reached over and popped open the bottle, pouring you a drink and handing the crystal glass to you. Graciously to took it from him, taking in the scent of the rich red drink before noticing how much more he was pouring into his own. Bringing your free hand forward, you tried to take tilt the bottle away from his glass. Mark pulled away from your hand and shook his head, not looking at you as he spoke. “Look. . . I know you're worried about me about the whole ordeal, and I appreciate you being here for me. But please, I don't want to talk or even think about it right now.” Saying this, Mark looked to you with pleading eyes, having another sober moment during this crisis was becoming far too much for him. As much as you didn't approve of heavy drinking with a broken heart, you couldn't help but feel a voice nipping a the back of your mind.

'He needs this. You're here after all. It's fine. . . I͍t᷾'s f̧ȋn̈e᷃.'

He's right. You both need to unwind anyways. You relaxed your posture as you raised your glass to him, Mark responding with a weary smile and tinked his glass against your before the both of you took a drink.

One glass of wine before two, three, four? Did the last one even count as a glass of wine since you never finished it and had more poured in? It should count as the same glass, right? The counting didn't matter as the night started to become a blur, a second bottle of wine being brought in and finished as well. Or was it a third bottle? You were not sure anymore, nor did you even care.

'Nothing wrong with letting go with an old friend. . .'

The night continued as the two of you became more rambunctious. Pointless jokes made and laughed at, tossing random items in the fire just to see how it would burn, flipping the table over, watching Mark fire the butler, you flipping him off after he drinks from your glass. Mark throwing an empty bottle of wine across the room, him with his arms wrapped around your neck as he sobs against your shoulder, you trying to stay up on the sofa only to collapse on the floor, another bottle of wine was ordered, both of you forgot that the butler was fired. Even on the floor the room continued to spin, vaguely seeing the actor crawling towards you and resting his head on your chest.

Everything felt warm, possibly from the fireplace, possibly from the body heat from the man who's weight pinned you to the floor, maybe it was the taste of wine that was still on your lips you tasted, maybe the taste was from his kiss, the firm hands that began to trail down your waist didn't hurt at all.

'See? It's not that bad. . . Not. That. B̠a̞d̅.̖ .ͅ "̂

(To be continued)

[rainey-staerie-daize]

A multi-day journal entry because it’s been a few: 03.10.21

Went for a nice walk around the neighborhood on Saturday because I felt like being outside and not at home. Found out where exactly Xan’s school is and how to get to it because I may or may not have to drop him off if Mom is scheduled extra days this month. Passed lots of houses and found out how all the nearby streets connect. Would've taken artsy pics except I forgot to take a phone with me. Met two or three tiny dogs and two big dogs at two different houses, and they all barked at me as I said hello. Oh, and one guy in a truck with tons of oranges in the back asked me if I wanted to buy some, but I declined. COVID-19, no money on me, and I don’t really like oranges all that much anyway because of the texture. Also passed by a house that was for sale with a kitchen sink that faces the front yard. There was a faucet zip-tied in its box in one side of it, and it’s the same faucet we have: Glacier Something, that detaches as a sprayer.

Getting to Xan’s school was kinda rocky for me because I was wearing my bad, thin-soled flats and I didn’t realize that there was a paved path on the other side of the wash until I got to the end at the school. Partway, I went to take off the mask because nobody was around and I needed all my depth perception, but one side broke as I did, so I spent a few minutes awkwardly standing at the end of the path as I retied my mask. Also tied my flannel shut because it’s too small to button, and it looked just a little odd with my AMBITION shirt and leggings.

Being at the school was kinda nostalgic, even though I never attended that specific one. Enough things were the same though: sun-faded signs, bike cage, playground equipment, fenced in area for the kindergarteners, portables in the back, a huge yellow field, clinking chains on the tetherball poles, and the silence of nobody else there but me.

Except, I wasn’t waiting for a parent to pick me up for once. I was there on my own free will. Other things that didn’t match my childhood include the entrance to the playground being nicely framed by four or so trees, a nice round gathering area painted like the sun around the flag pole, “welcome back” spelled out in blue Solo cups shoved into the bike cage fence, and one of the “no parking” signs by the drop-off area being scribbled out so it said “park here.” It was nice, and I yearn to be ten or younger again.

Partway through my little campus tour, it got a little windy, and I briefly thought about going home, but I ultimately decided to keep walking the same direction and circle my way back home. There’s a big dirt lot right next to the field fenced off, and then I could see the intersection that I’ve walked to the other way around before, so I headed over that way. Came across a shopping center with a bunch of stores, and looked at each one as I passed them. Was able to see inside of a dry cleaner place and look at the machines inside, but after the guy at the counter acknowledged my presence like I was a potential customer, I told him I had never seen inside one before and was just taking a walk, and kinda just... quickly walked away. The shopping center also had a Walmart Neighborhood Market, and I spotted a wild dark-haired Karen with no mask, that I felt was way to close to me. Probably three or four feet away, I don’t know. My depth perception sucks.

Rounding about the other end of the shopping center after looking at Panda Express, Denny’s, and a pizza place, I heard a familiar couple of notes come from one of the vehicles in the parking lot. The beginning notes of She’s a Beauty by The Tubes, which I almost never hear play on the radio or anything because it’s from the early 80s. Despite not being born until 2000, I know a few of their songs because my uncle is the bass player and I’ve been to a few of their concerts when I was younger.

So I started singing a bit as I was walking, and as it started getting more faint, I stopped walking, turned around, and cupped my right ear with my hand to keep listening. Pretty sure one guy looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t care. After it ended, or at least, I think it did, I continued on my way, the same route I use when I’m returning home from that street’s bus stop.

When I got home, Mom was out cold on her bed after the facial she did earlier. Skye later told me she never even noticed I left because she went straight to bed for an afternoon nap when she was done, never leaving her room.

I finally reset my sleep schedule enough to wake up at 4 AM on Sunday, which is good enough for me because I used to wake up then in high school anyway. I spent a while just waking up on the toilet, and then decided to do some light cleaning and picking up around the house to surprise Mom when she woke up. She never notices, but I didn’t care about that then.

After tidying up Kare’s hair accessories on the counter and finding her toothbrush still with toothpaste on it from the night before, I decided to rinse out her unicorn wash cloth sitting on the counter, and maybe clean up the toothpaste on the counter with it, but then Mom woke up from the couch. I got scared that she’d be mad I was doing stuff in her bathroom, so I snuck out to the other one. Was a little bored waiting for her to be busy with something so I could finish her counter, so I wiped down the counter of the bathroom I was in.

She tried to come in to get laundry, which startled me because I was right next to the door, and immediately spotted the unicorn cloth. She went off on me for using “something that she uses on her FACE” on the counters of all things. Briefly mentioned wiping the toilet, as if she thought that’s what I did before I walked in.

I didn’t even try explaining myself. Just stood there and let her yell. I know I got a little carried away with cleaning stuff, but like, it was soapy. It’s like Mom complaining that I used the dish sponge with antibacterial dish detergent on Roxie’s food bowls. It doesn’t make sense, but I was too tired and down on myself to care about her seeing my side.

During the visit, Skye and I stayed home and talked in our room, and I looked up that house I saw for sale. Not that nice, and currently off the market, but I found two others that I absolutely love. Kinda wish I’d had a job this entire time. Then maybe I could have enough money to put down a down payment and get one of them. Oh well.

Mom came home while the littles were still at the visit, and Skye and I both pretended to be asleep so we didn’t have to interact with her. Some of her behavior has seemed kinda... sus. I ended up falling asleep for real though, on the carpet, woke up briefly a few times, and finally got up at 1 AM.

Mom was still up, and told me how one of my old friends was trying to contact me but couldn’t because my phone was off, so I turned it back on and we talked for a while. I gave her my Google number in case my actual phone wasn’t working, and wished her a happy birthday, but she fell asleep before she saw the birthday message. Don’t remember much else of the day, except I turned in a Japanese quiz early and cleaned Roxie and her crate. Like always, cleaning took a while because I am very thorough, and because she pooped in the crate when I was washing her bowls. I had to rewash her and the crate floor, which, after last time, I now know slides TF out.

Ended it all with a hot bath for myself, which I fell asleep in. Woke up cold because half the water drained out through the faulty plug, so I ran it again, and fell asleep again. Woke up cold again, refilled it, and finally washed myself. Got out and was relieved to find Roxie and her “room” still clean, and I finished it off with her blankets and one of her beds from the dryer. I tried a new thing with the blanket where I tie one end (two corners) to the crate ceiling to almost make a tent, and she seems to like it.

Not counting the bath naps, I stayed up for over 24 hours, but didn’t realize why I was so damn tired until late Tuesday morning. Ended up falling asleep for a couple hours that afternoon, woke up for a while, and then went back to sleep at a decent time time at night, but I was woken up around 2:30 AM by Mom looking for her keys. She was panicking because March has blackout days and she’s already near her point limit, so being late could literally get her fired. She kept asking where I put them, since her purse and dealer apron were moved off of the crate by me to clean it, but I told her I hadn’t even seen them. I don’t think she believed me, because she still sounded like she was blaming me for not being able to find them.

Not my fault that you said “stop putting things on the dog crate,” and then you kept putting your own stuff on top of the dog crate, and then wanted me to clean it. Where the Hell was I supposed to put her stuff while I was cleaning it?

Skye eventually found her keys in the unlocked car, and she finally left, but was back by 4 AM because she signed the EO list. She tried to prank us when she came in by telling us she was fired, but I didn’t buy it because she wasn’t crying. Trust me, she’d be bawling her eyes out if that had actually happened.

Bringing us to Wednesday, I was a tired mess who’d done Duolingo all morning when I showed us to my Japanese lecture. I only remembered to do it because I heard Mom doing it. She’s apparently gonna learn Spanish.

I still have a few things to make up for that class, but at least I’ve finally organized my worksheets into homework packets. I’ve gone this long before remembering we own a stapler.

[neocityarchive]

ends | mark ft hyuck (pt 2)

summary | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Hyuck’s POV

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: language (a bit lol)

Chapter Summary: Happiness doesn’t always mean you and me.

“I’m always the one buying coffee. How about you buy our coffee this time?” Jaemin flashed a grin at Hyuck.

“I can’t,” Hyuck replied, plopping himself on the floor. “My legs stopped working.”

Jaemin shook his head before saying, “If you don’t play you lose, rock papers scissors,” leaving his friend no choice but to play.

Hyuck drew out a rock while Jaemin drew paper. It was obvious who won but Hyuck being Hyuck, he still tried to find his way around it. “This is stupid. Rock should beat paper. What does a paper even do? If you throw someone a paper, it wouldn’t even hurt. If you throw someone a rock—”

“Paper beats rock,” Renjun, who was supposedly minding his own business said. “Stop being so lazy.”

Finally, Hyuck gave up. He wanted to get out of the room anyway. “Fine, but just this once.” He sighed. “Does anyone else want anything?”

“Everybody, take advantage. This is a rare phenomenon,” Jeno said, a wide smile on his face.

“Hyung, I’ll have an iced choco,” Chenle said.

“Me, too,” Jisung followed.

Renjun wanted an iced chai tea latte while Jeno opted for an iced cafe latte.

“And an iced americano for me,” Jaemin said. “Thank you.”

Everyone has placed their orders except for one. Mark was quietly scrolling through his phone at the other side of the room, his headphones dangling loosely from his ears. Hyuck knew he could hear what was going on since he kept looking at everyone from time to time. But he was’t about to ask him if he wanted anything.

The air in the room grew awkward as the rest of the guys realized what was going on. They shared glances with one another, unsure of what to do.

There used to be none of this uneasiness between the two guys, but ever since Mark’s breakup with Y/N, he and Hyuck were never quite the same. None of the dreamies knew what happened or why, not even Mark. None of them had the courage nor the will to even ask. However, there was one person besides Hyuck who had a bit of a clue of what’s happening.

“Is that all? I’ll be leaving now.” Hyuck took his coat from the sofa and was halfway out the door when he was pushed outside by Jeno who closed the door behind them.

He looked around, making sure no one was there to hear before facing Hyuck. “Are you still not gonna talk to him properly?”

“What do you want me to do? I asked everyone what they want. He should’ve spoken up if he wanted something,” Hyuck replied, clearly annoyed.

Jeno sighed. “He knows something’s off between you two. You can’t just keep on making Mark hyung feel like shit without letting him know why.”

“First of all, I’m not even trying to. And second, he deserves to feel like that.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow. Hyuck somehow found it annoying that even when he’s frustrated, his eyes still smile a little bit. It makes him look insincere. Ironically though, fans love that about him.

“You can’t just take the most amazing girl in the world, date her, make her fall in love with you that much, only to break her heart as easily as he did. He didn’t even try to let her down gently.” Hyuck reasoned. “So, if he feels like shit right now, that’s cause he should.”

“That’s still your excuse?” Jeno has been asking him the same thing for a month now, but he just keeps on getting the same bullshit.

“It’s not an excuse. It’s a perfectly rational reason.”

“Sure, but it shouldn’t be coming from you,” Jeno pointed out.  “I still don’t understand why you’re so mad about their breakup. It’s not like you’re the one he broke up with.”

Hyuck just looked at Jeno, his eyes shooting daggers. “It would be better if it was me. At least, Y/N wouldn’t be going through all that pain.”

Jeno’s eyes widened. The corners of his lips perked up a bit. He wasn’t doing it intentionally, it’s just the way his facial muscles work, but Hyuck still wanted to punch the stupid smirk off his face. Why does this guy have to be smiling eternally anyway?

“You still like her!?” Jeno said. “After all this time?!”

“I don’t. We’re just really good friends,” Hyuck lied, but he could feel his cheeks heat up. He tried to keep a straight face.

“You do!” Jeno‘s face lit up. “I thought you stopped liking her when you found out she and Mark were dating! Damn, that’s so long ago. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s why I’m in this mess.”

“So you do admit it?”

“No!” Hyuck groaned.

“You’re impossible.” Jeno shook his head. This time, the smirk on his face was real and intentional. “So, this is why you’ve been such a huge pain in the ass. You definitely can’t tell this to hyung. He’ll kill you.”

Hyuck scoffed. “Why would he?”

Jeno rolled his eyes. “You’d be stupid if you think he doesn’t love her still.”

“If he does, he shouldn’t have let her go,” Hyuck said. He knew Jeno was right. He sees how devastated Mark has been. He kind of feels sorry for his hyung, but a part of him also wants to bury Mark in the pain. “I’ll be going now. Ask him if he wants anything, and just text me.”

Without another word, he walked away.

The whole floor seemed emptier today. There weren’t many staffs around since it was only NCT Dream that had a schedule. Suddenly, Hyuck was envious of everyone who was on a rest day. The weather outside is perfect. 

He walked past the recording booths and the empty lounge, suddenly worried about how the recording would be like tonight. He and Mark have to do some layerings together. Plus, this track is totally different from anything they’ve ever done before. 

Hyuck shook his head, trying to rid himself of the worries as he proceeded to the elevator.

He stopped walking from a few feet away after recognizing an all too familiar figure in front of it. His heart raced.

He hesitated. Was it really her? It was her height, her built, even the way she stands and the way she swings slightly from side to side when she’s bored or thinking, and the way she puts up her hair in a messy bun. It must be her.

“Y/N?!” Hyuck called.

The girl turned around, her expression changing quickly from panicked to relieved in just a millisecond. She looked different from the last time he saw her, but still as beautiful, if not even more.

“Hyuck?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking towards her.

“Oh, I got a call from advertising. They needed help.”

“But advertising is two floors up?”

She smiled sheepishly. “I know. I got stuck here on the way down. There were VIPs.”

“Right.” Hyuck nodded. He blinked. Once. Twice, before he realized he was staring. He cleared his throat. “Wow, I haven’t seen you in so long. You look…”

“Homeless?” She laughed. Her eyes and nose were a bit red. Her lips were more plump than usual. She just cried, he was sure of it. He’s seen her shed tears more often than he wanted to. She’d cry over the silliest things. Hyuck always wanted to come and comfort her, but there were already a pair of arms wrapped around her before he could even think of it. But other than that, her smile, her laugh, even her voice, they were as beautiful as ever.

“No. You look good.” Hyuck smiled.

“Are you alone?”

He nodded.

“Oh.”

“Actually, no. The dreamies are at the waiting room on the other side of this floor. They asked me to get coffee, so…”

“Woah. You getting coffee? Just how much has changed since I’ve last been here?” she joked, but her eyes drifted behind him momentarily. He could tell she was worried.

“I know, it’s weird. But I gotta do it once in a while or else they’ll kick me out of the team,” he said.

Just then the elevator doors opened. There was no one else inside.

“Hey, if you’re not busy, you should come with me. We have to catch up,” he said as the doors closed and started descending.

“Hyuck, I’d love to but…”

“Look, Mark hyung is upstairs, busy on his phone with God knows what. You won’t run into him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She sighed. “Was I that obvious?”

Hyuck let out a laugh. “No. It’s just common sense.” 

The elevator opened again. This time, to the ground floor. 

“Come on. I may not be as busy Mark hyung but I also don’t have a lot of free time.” Hyuck grabbed her by the hand and started dragging her around.

The cafe was only half full. Hyuck told Y/N to go ahead and find a table.

“You want the usual?” Hyuck asked.

“Do you even remember my usual?” Y/N returned.

“Iced americano with two extra espresso shots.” 

She smiled. “You’re good.”

Hyuck returned the smile and didn’t reply before he went to the cashier. If only she knew just how much he remembers about her, he thought. He’s the first member she became friends with after all. They’ve come a long way since then.

While waiting in line, he texted Jeno: will be a little late. had to do someth but don’t tell them. your coffees can wait.

Hyuck went back to their table with only two cups in his tray.

“I thought you were buying for everyone else?” Y/N asked.

“Well, if I buy their drinks now, it will taste like nothing when I get back upstairs,” he said. “For now, let’s just catch up. I haven’t seen you since…”

He wondered. She and Mark broke up two months ago, but the last time they saw each other was even way before that. It was during a music festival. They were with the 127 hyungs. Y/N came with a few of her friends to support them. She and Mark still looked happy then. Hyuck remembered exactly how he felt at the time, how he told Taeil hyung that wanted to pluck his eyes out while watching them not take their eyes off each other. It’s crazy how much people change so quickly.

“Wow. The last time I saw you, you weren’t even single yet,” Hyuck joked.

Y/N smiled, looking down. “It’s been a while.”

“Was the joke a bit too soon?” he asked, noticing her low energy response. She usually loves his jokes.

“No. It’s fine.” She let out a light laugh. “It’s not like it’s not true. Besides, I gotta move on at some point, right?”

Hyuck was going to joke around some more, but when he realized Y/N was being serious, all his gears quickly switched to comforting mode. “Come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s only been two months. I know how much he meant to you.”

She laughed again, but it lacked sincerity. “At least someone does. I don’t think he did.”

“Or maybe he just forgot,” Hyuck said.

Y/N looked at him, her expression curious.

“You and I both know how stupid he can be,” he added. “If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have broken up with you.”

“Pfft.” She rolled her eyes. “You convinced him into doing it.”

Hyuck froze. He didn’t see that one coming or even where it came from. He thought Y/N was being serious until her lips formed into a smile again.

“I’m kidding,” she said. “But I was there that day.”

“What day?”

She then told him about how she was listening to their conversation a few months back, about how Mark said he was getting tired of them, and how he and the Dreamies sort of helped solidify Mark’s decision to break up with her.

Hyuck felt guilty. Yes, a part of him always held onto Y/N even when he knew she and Mark had started dating. She had always been special. But he never wished her for himself if it meant hurting his friend or her. Along the way, he learned to be contented in seeing both of them happy. So when he heard what Y/N had to say, he wanted to punch himself in the throat.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he said, his usual loud voice now deafeningly quiet. “I didn’t mean–”

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” Y/N cut in. “It was bound to happen anyway. Eventually.” She sighed. Even Hyuck could tell she didn’t believe her own words.

“But you were right. We sort of talked him into it.” He sighed. “I mean, I wasn’t even thinking about it at the time. I just thought you didn’t deserve to stay in a relationship that he doesn’t want to be in.”

“And you’re probably right,” she said quietly.

“Still…”

“Hyuck, there’s nothing left for us if we stayed together. It was tiring, the endless fights, the nonsense arguments. You guys are always so busy, it was almost like dating a ghost. So this is okay, I guess. It’s for the best that we just went our separate ways,” she said.

“You don’t make it sound like it’s okay,” Hyuck said.

He always thought of her as something like the waves of the deep sea. Strong-willed, passionate, brave. But right now, she was like thin ice. Brittle, delicate, easy to break. It’s almost like if you made a wrong step, she would crumble, and you’d be submerged in a cold, unescapable depth.

She just shrugged.

“Y/N,” Hyuck said. He had no intention of walking carefully on the thin ice. Sometimes, ice has to break to let the water flow again. “Honestly, I’m the last person you should be putting this brave face on for. I know you too well to not see you’re struggling.”

She just continued staring at her coffee, her expression tight. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

He waited. Looking at her like this is painful enough in itself. But knowing he can do everything and still not make her feel better because he’s not the one she needs… that’s a whole different level of agony.

“I just wish it would’ve lasted a little longer.” Her voice broke. 

His heart shattered. He didn’t know what to do. Every nerve on his body was screaming at him to stand up, hug her, hold her hand, but he knows he can’t. He shouldn’t.

“It was partly my fault, too,” she said, a tear escaping from her eye. “When he said we should break up, I didn’t even try to convince him otherwise. But I knew he was tired, and everything was getting into his head. I told him I was tired too, but to give up on us? It was unthinkable.”

At that moment, it hit Hyuck harder than it ever did before. “You really love him… you still do.”

Just like that, Y/N broke down.

“Hey, no, don’t cry.” Hyuck was panicking, grabbing the napkin from the tray. He was about to wipe the tears from Y/N’s cheeks before he stopped himself and awkwardly handed her the napkin instead. “I’m sorry for bringing this up.”

“No, no.” She was trying to laugh behind the tears. “I had quite a bad day, so… Besides, I needed to let this out after keeping it bottled in for so long.”

Hyuck remembered the dreamies placing a bet on Mark and Y/N when they started dating, whether or not they’ll last longer than three months. Hyuck refused to join, but most of them bet that they wouldn’t (which resulted to a very wealthy Chenle & Jisung). But looking at Y/N now and knowing how Mark is, he realized there were a lot more happening behind the scenes and what they had was deeper than what it seemed. How could he ever compete with that?

“Y/N,” Hyuck said, gathering the courage to take her hand. He did it in such a friendly way that somehow, it didn’t feel awkward. “Listen to me. None of this is your fault, okay? I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but I know one thing for sure: this isn’t the end. You’ll find happiness again. Someone as kind and talented and beautiful as you, crying over Mark hyung? I mean, come on. You deserve better. Besides, you’re lucky enough. You know why?”

“Why?”

He cracked a smile. “Because I’m your friend. I’m fullsun, remember? Wherever I am, I bring happiness and good luck.”

She laughed, shaking her head. She removed her hand from his grip and hit him lightly. “Making me feel better by complimenting yourself? As expected of you.”

Hyuck shrugged, laughing. “Now, stop crying. You’ll start to look homeless for real. I’m just going to order the boys’ coffee, so you have to try and not be sad while the sun is away.”

“I’ll try.” She rolled her eyes.

When Hyuck was done, twenty minutes have already passed, so he really had to get back upstairs.

They stood in front of the cafe for ten seconds without saying anything.

“You can call me anytime, you know that, right?” Hyuck asked. Both his hands were filled with two trays containing the boys’ drinks. Who sends one person to buy six cups of coffee?! he thought.

Y/N nodded.

“You only broke up with Mark hyung, but you’re still friends with the rest of us,” he added jokingly.

She made a face.

“Still too soon?” he asked.

She didn’t reply. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck in an embrace. “Thank you so much for today,” she mumbled against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

Hyuck didn’t know how to react. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He couldn’t even hug her back since both of his hands were useless.“The, um, the… the coffee spilled,” he replied.

Y/N pulled away. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

“Just kidding,” Hyuck said. “But it did spill a little.”

“We should continue this ‘catch up’ some time,” Y/N said. “Tell me when you’re not busy anymore and no longer a ghost, okay?”

He laughed. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll call you.”

“Bye.” She smiled.

Hyuck watched as she walked away. The girl he admired for so long, knowing she was everything he dreamt of. The person he watched fall in love with his best friend, broken up with him, and beat herself up over it. She was the only one who made him want to be selfless. For a while, she was everything he wanted. But we can’t always get what we want, and that’s a fact he is slowly learning to live with. Time will heal the pain, he told himself. It always does.

When he turned around to get back to the building, he saw someone familiar walking slowly towards his direction. His head was bent down, his cap hiding his face from the world, but Hyuck could recognize him anywhere.

He let out a deep breath to muster up courage. “Mark hyung,” he called.

Mark raised his head, looking at him. “Oh. I was actually coming to get you and order coffee.”

“I already bought your coffee,” Hyuck said, handing him the other tray.

“But I didn’t–”

“Jeno texted me what you wanted,” he lied. Jeno never replied to him. 

“Where’s yours then?” Mark asked.

“I already finished it. I, uh… I met a friend. We talked for a while.” He looked back. Y/N was already out of sight.

Mark just nodded. He was staring into the distance, probably also feeling too awkward to look at Hyuck. The rift between them had gotten quite big lately.

“Come on,” Hyuck said. He wanted to get out of this situation as much as anyone. “Those brats are getting impatient already.”

[purplesurveys]

981

Name 10 Of Your Friends

1. Laurice 2. Angela 3. Luisa 4. Andrew 5. Kate 6. Gabie 7. Tina 8. Jo 9. Liana 10. Jane

Are you related to number 1?: I’m pretty sure we are not, not even distantly.

Do you love number 2?: Like a sister. She means everything to me.

Is number 3 older or younger than you?: She’s older by literally a few days. We were born in the same month, same year; but she arrived around a week earlier.

Are you romantically involved with number 4?: No. I’ve never been interested in them in that way.

Do you wish you could see number 5 more?: Absolutely. She was one of the best friends I made in college and I wish we had/have more opportunities to see each other. I don’t think I’ve hung out with her since the Christmas season last year :(

How did you meet number 6?: Mutual friends introduced us to each other and it was best friend-hood from there.

Would you ever kiss number 7?: Eh, she’s more like a sister to me so pass.

Does 8 share the same taste in music as you do?: We share some favorites as far as I know, but ultimately we have different tastes. Her favorite is the Vampire Weekend, a band I’ve never listened to.

Would you tell a secret to number 9?: I’ve met her irl only once, but sure. I find her reliable.

Would you ever live with number 10?: I think we can be roommates, but I also think we’d drive each other crazy. Also I’m a little intimidated by her so that might ruin my experience living wherever we’re staying in.

Have you ever dated any of the 10 people listed?: Yep.

Would 3 and 7 make a good couple?: Ooh I doubt it. They have very different personalities; I’m pretty sure they’d clash all the time and that they would be simply incompatible. It doesn’t help that Luisa’s gay and Tina’s straight, so.

Do 2 and 5 get along?: As far as I know they’ve never met. They could probably get along; they’re both super friendly and can fit in any crowd.

Are you secretly in love with number 6?: Well, it hasn’t been a secret for a very long time now.

When did you last see number 8?: :( :( :( Don’t do me like thissss. Oh man. I genuinely have no clue. Last year? January of this year? It’s been ages.

Does number 2 know number 6?: Very well. They’re my two best friends so we’ve been in the same room, same car, same bar, same house, etc. plenty of times.

Have you slept in the same bed as number 4?: I don’t recall ever doing so. We’ve lied on the same bed, but neither of us fell asleep that time.

Is number 7 single?: Yes. She’s had her fair share of crushes through the years that I’ve known her but she’s never had a boyfriend.

What do you like to do with number 5?: Drink, smoke, catch up, laugh.

Has your mom met number 6?: Like a million times.

Are number 4 and 8 friends?: I wouldn’t call them friends. I dunno if Jo’s opinion of them has changed in the last few months, but the last thing I’ve been aware of is that Jo does not like them too much. I vividly remember how Jo’s crowd and Andrew’s crowd had to sit at completely opposite tables during our Christmas party last year. Because I was friends with both groups, I spent the evening moving from one table to another before settling at Jo’s because I was closer to that group haha.

What does number 9 look like?: To be honest with you I barely know her. Covid kept us from hanging out but I’m so ridiculously sure that we could’ve ended up becoming great friends, so I’ll always feel crappy about that could’ve-been. From what I remember, she has curly hair and braces, but that’s pretty much all I was able to note down about her appearance in the one time we met in person.

When did you last talk to number 10?: The other day. I needed the contact number of someone who works where she works, so I asked her if it was possible to retrieve the contact details from her.

What was the last thing you said to number 2?: I showed her this meme, hahaha.

Have you ever hugged number 1?: SO MANY TIMES. She is such a hugger. Absolutely no complaints about it.

Is number 2 in a relationship?: Yes, with Hans.

Would 3 and 5 ever get in a fight over you?: I have no idea why two people would ever fight over me. I’m not desirable at all...so no.

How old is number 4?: They are 22, same age as me.

When will you next see number 6?: I don’t know. We have completely opposite work shifts and it’ll be that way for a while, so it’s really hard to tell.

Have you ever hooked up with number 9?: Oh wow, no. That feels wrong.

Do 7 and 8 live in the same place?: No, they’re a few cities apart.

Do you want to talk to number 10 right now?: Not really. I’m not annoyed with her or anything; there’s just nothing to say to each other at the moment.

Is number 3 in your phone contacts?: Yes.

You caught 7 and 9 kissing, your reaction is?: bruh what

Does number 2 smoke?: Socially.

You throw a party and invite 2, 3, and 4, would there be any problems?: For the most part not really, except Andrew tends to get really rowdy and raucous when they’re drunk and that might not go over well with Angela in particular. But who knows? They could also end up being a fun trio; they all have great personalities so I can definitely see that happening as well hahaha.

You're on a roadtrip with 1 and 7. Is it awkward at all?: Not at all. Those two have a great dynamic and are the bubbliest and friendliest people I know. It would be such an entertaining car ride and I wouldn’t complain about driving at all if they were my two passengers.

8 just kissed you. What do you say?: Ask her what it was for. But idk, I feel weird thinking about it actually.

3 and 9 just got into a fight. What might it be about?: They probably just disagreed on something ideology-wise. Luisa is a hardcore red and is very radical; Liana shares the same ideals but is several notches lower. It wouldn’t be a full-blown fight and they’ll most likely end up having an intelligent debate.

Does 7 hate 9?: No. That would be such a tricky spot to be in considering they’re part of the executive board for the org. They should make it a point NOT to end up hating each other lol.

How is 4 today?: I think they’ve been doing alright for the most part! They recently launched their new passion project, a podcast, and so they’ve been super excited and giddy over the last few days. As they should. The podcast looks so promising and I can’t wait for the first episode.

Where does 8 live?: In a city in Metro Manila.

Have you ever liked 6 more than a friend?: Yes.

Would 2 and 4 look cute together?: Not a fan. I’d rather they stick to their current significant others.

Would you ever borrow any of 2's clothes?: Sure! She has a lot of cute pieces. They’d be a size or two larger for my frame, but I’m willing to experiment if she’s willing to lend her clothes to me.

Is 3 taller than 10?: Yes. I think everyone is taller than Jane. HAHAHA

Are you taller than 7?: She’s taller by a few centimeters.

Would it surprise you if 9 got arrested?: I don’t know, actually. Like I said, I’ve barely gotten the chance to know her. At this point in our relationship I can’t really tell if she’s the feisty type.

Could you live with 3 and 4 for a year?: Sure. I thnk it would be the two of them who’ll end up having a blast living together as they’re obsessed with everything sports and sports will definitely dominate the TV and dining table discussions. I can be like their mom, I guess hehe

Do you like number 6's hair?: Yes.

Does number 1 know something about you that most people don't?: I’ve probably shared a secret with her here and there, yes.

8, 6, and 1 are hanging out together. Likely or no?: 8 and 1, for sure. They’re pretty much best friends. With Gabie, not so much. The only time Gabie will be in the picture is if I hang out with them as well.

When did you last hear from number 10?: Again, the other day when I asked for help about something work-related.

Could 3 and 8 be friends?: They already are; we’re in the same college friend group, the daydrinkers ha.

Who do you have more in common with, 4 or 9?: We’re both similar in different ways though...Andrew and I enjoy wrestling and Liana and I share a few interests like The Crown. Just because I know Liana a lot less, I’ll go with Andrew.

What do you usually talk to number 6 about?: Everything under the sun. She’s my best friend. There’s nothing she doesn’t know about me.

Is number 1 a good dancer?: I haven’t really seen her dance, so I wouldn’t make for a good judge.

Have you ever gone swimming with number 5?: Yes.

Would you ever have a sleepover with number 2 and 3?: It might be awkward at first as they’ve never met, but sure! We can give it a try. I don’t necessarily think they’re incompatible; they just haven’t met ever so it might just take some time for them to warm up to one another.

Could you see yourself having kids with number 7?: No. That is kinda weird to think about; I’ve never thought of her in that way.

Do you find number 1 attractive?: She’s pretty and has a nice, big smile, so yes.

You're in trouble. Who do you call first?: Gabie.

Is number 2 a good shoulder to cry on?: Absolutely. If I needed someone to run to and cry it’d be her or Gab.

Will you talk to 9 tonight?: Nope. I don’t really talk to her, but I’d love to be closer with her.

Does 10 have any irrational fears?: She probably does, but it’s never been raised in any of our conversations so there’s no way for me to know of them.

Do you know something personal about number 4?: A lot. They trust me with a few of their secrets and I’m honored that they do.

Do you text number 5?: Not really. We communicate mainly on Messenger and we talk at least once a month.

Does 8 have a nice body?: For sure. Jo is 5′7″ – which is gargantuan in this country – and I’ve always thought she was such a badass for being so tall. We all deadass look like ants next to her.

Do you approve of the people number 9 dates?: I’m not aware of her love life history, if there is one.

Would number 6 look good with facial hair?: I mean if she wanted to grow facial hair, I wouldn’t mind. I’d find her attractive all the same.

Would you ever date one of number 7's siblings?: Noooooo, her brothers are a little old and as far as I know one of them is already married lmao.

Would you go to number 10's wedding?: I would love to.

How would you react if you found out number 8 had a drug problem?: Try to reach out. And ask the other people in the EB if she’s been getting the help and support that she needs.

Did you go to school with number 1?: Just university, though she’s a year level lower. We went to different schools in grade school and high school.

How did you meet number 2?: I was class number 9 and she was class number 10 in Grade 1. And then I stabbed her palm with a pencil; the rest was history.

Would it surprise you if you found out number 4 was stalking you? It would surprise and anger me, yes.

Does 3 make you smile?: All my friends make me smile. That being said, yes Luisa sure does.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 4

Warnings: none. Just some cute Ovi and little kids ;)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

It is a fifteen-minute drive into town; a picturesque central area with a healthy mixture of both low and high end shops and numerous eateries and cafes. In the winter it is reminiscent of a Dickens novel; snow covered trees and streets, the Victorian area store fronts boasting immaculate decorations and displays in their front windows,  white lights strung from almost every available surface, and a skating rink in the centre of it all.  In the summer, when tourists flowed into the area and brought in the most money for the economy, the sidewalks were full of patios and lined with immaculate floral gardens. Telluride is a small town, and regular residents all seemed to know one another; conversing in front of the bank and post office, catching up on gossip and talking about high school sports. Tyler’s already exchanged pleasantries and small talk with five people, and that was when just stepping out of the car.

 When they’d first arrived, talk had spread fast about the new family in town.  They’d spent four months living with her parents and getting on their feet before buying able to buy a home with their joint savings and money that Mahajan had managed to scrap together and give as thanks for taking care of his son. Nik had taken it upon herself to act as the ‘small town gossip’, quickly using some of her contacts to spread small little rumours about who they were: an ex Australian Army soldier who’d been injured in Afghanistan and forced to retire at a young age, his young pregnant wife and their baby girl, and a kid that they’d adopted after losing both of his parents. It had managed to keep people from asking too many questions when they’d show up unannounced at the house with various casseroles and baked goods and welcoming gifts. Every so often someone would ask about his service record and just what happened that forced him to leave at such a young age and Tyler would just repeat the same old bullshit about arthritis and nagging injuries and show off some of the more prominent scars that marred his body. Just like five years ago in Dhaka, people had taken to them.  They were young, friendly, always willing to lend a hand if someone needed it.  Never too accessible, but just accessible enough.  Never free and easy with their personal information, but giving out just enough that kept people curious. And when he started his own business, word travelled fast and within a week he had a client list of over two dozen. On his first day of school, Ovi already had people waiting to meet him. Interested in who the kid with the ex Army Aussie dad was.

Even five years later it is a novelty of sorts: an Australian living in their small town. They’re intrigued by his accent and his slang and always want to hear stories about ‘the land down under’. Even now he couldn’t go into the hardware store or into the pharmacy to buy diapers without someone wanting to hear all about kangaroos and koalas and was it really true they had spiders the size of dinner plates? He humoured them for the most part; slightly annoyed when they attempted to copy the way he talked. What was the saying? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? He’d just laugh it off and they’d think it was hilarious whenever he called them mate.

The twins and Millie had decided to tag along; the boys wanting mohawks done at the barber and their sister wanting ice cream. The little mom and pop candy store was always one of their stops when they happened to make it into town, and she wasn’t about to let her father forget about it.

“I can take her,” Ovi offers, still trying to make up for his huge fuck up the night before. “I could use some ice cream too.”

“Oh please, daddy?! Please?!” Millie gushes, as she waits for him to unload her brothers from their car seats before tending to her. “Can Ovi take me for ice cream? Let Ovi take me for ice cream!”

“Sometimes I think you love him more than me,” he teases, as he leans across the back seat to unbuckle her, and in response she curls both arms around his neck and gives him a sloppy, noisy kiss on the forehead.

“I don’t love anyone more than you daddy.”

“Not even mommy?”

“Mommy is a close second. Don’t tell her that though. It might make her sad.”

“What about your brothers? Where are they on your list?”

“Oh they are wayyyy down there. Like between broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

“You hate broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

Her eyes narrow. “Exactly.”

He can’t help but laugh at the seriousness in her voice, at the frown that takes over her face, the way her normally brilliant blue eyes grow dark.  So much like him in so many ways. He sees it all the time; in all of his kids. Certain facial expressions and mannerisms that he long ago recognized in himself.

“Okay, I know they piss you off, but they’re still your brothers,” he reminds her, as she clambers out of the SUV.

“Maybe they’re adopted,” she sounds hopeful at the idea, and then rolls her eyes at them when they start harassing her about her dress and her pig tails.

“I hate to break it to you, but they’re not. They definitely came out of mommy’s tummy. I was there. I saw it happen.”

“But how’d they get in there? Maybe other babies got put in her tummy by accident.”

“Naw, I was there for that too. So sorry. You’re stuck with the brothers you have.”

She’s side eyeing them now, with absolute disdain despite the fact they’re actually behaving and just waiting patiently for their dad to lock the car and set the alarm.  He recognizes that look, too. He’s used it many times himself when someone’s mere presence has annoyed the shit out him.

“They’re just so…ughhh…” she huffs dramatically.

That’s definitely more her mother coming out.

“But at least I have you, right Ovi?” she curls a hand around two of his fingers and gazes up at him adoringly. “At least you won’t pick on me and pull my hair and do stupid boy stuff. You’re like an older brother, right? That’s what mommy always says. That you’re practically my big brother. Is that true?”

The kid looks as if he may burst into tears at the mere thought of it. “If that’s what you want. Do you want me to be your big brother? I’ve always wanted a little sister.” He’s always seen her that way. She’d been his first hands on experience with babies and he’d relished every moment. Never once complaining when he was asked to change a dirty diaper or she threw up on his clothes. He was a natural, calm, patient, compassionate. A surprise, considering he’d never been brought up experiencing any of those traits.

“I can be your little sister,” she offers, and picks his arm up and slings it around her shoulders.

It takes him a moment to compose himself. And he blinks his eyes several times and clears his throat and then smiles down at her.

“I’d like that.”

 ****

When he was a kid, this place would have been paradise. An entire wall devoted to clear plastic cylinders filled with a rainbow of various candy, display cases showing of chocolates in all kinds of shapes and even cartoon characters and over two dozen different flavours of fudge. There’s even an old fashion milkshake and ice cream bar on the far wall, serving everything from basic cones to sundaes with dozens of available toppings, and enormous banana splits.

Oh, to be a child again! He longed for those days. Not his childhood and his previous life in India; spent as a prisoner in his own home because of his father’s evil misdoings. But a childhood that would be much simpler. Worry free. Where he could actually be a kid and enjoy all the innocence that came with it. If he could choose, he would pick this moment, this place, this family, to experience as a child. In a home where he felt safe. Valued. Respected. Loved. Where his opinions and his feelings are validated, and he can speak without being spoken to. Where there is more laughter than there were tears. More smiles than harsh raised voices.

And love. Lots and lots of love.

That is what he witnessed in his new home, with his new family.  He’d been made to feel as if he was loved just as much as the biological children. He was valued. Seen as a person and not a thing. Tyler and Esme never said those three little yet powerful words, but he felt them. In the way they expressed pride in his school accomplishments, in the way they helped him battled his issues since the incident in Dhaka five years ago, how they encouraged him to always try his best and learn from his mistakes. Even when he was younger and being disciplined, there was love in it.  They only wanted what was best for him and hated to see him wandering down difficult paths.

No. They never said it. Neither did he. But it was all around him. And inside of him.

Half a dozen customers linger in the store; a small family picking out candy, a couple sitting on the stools at the counter, and a solo man sitting in one booth at the very back.  A trucker style hat pulled low over his eyes, sleeves of brightly coloured tattoos visible under his t-shirt, a mug of black coffee and that day’s newspaper in front of him.  He glances up as they enter; his eyes locking on Ovi’s for a split second, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ovi finds it a tad unsettling. He’s spent a lot of time wandering the town and in and out of the various shops and he’s never seen that face before. And in Telluride, newcomers stick out like sore thumbs.

Millie tightly holds his hand and happily skips alongside of him, pausing every couple of feet to spin in a circle; commenting on the way her dress looked when she twirled. Because that’s how the princesses’ dresses moved in all the movies she’s seen, and she would very much like to be a princess when she’s old.

And a firefighter.

“That’s quite the combination,” he remarks. “A princess and a firefighter? Are you going to wear your tiara and your princess dress when you go to fires?”

“Maybe the dress, but not the tiara,” she says. “Because I wouldn’t be able to get my helmet on.”

Pretty sound logic.

He notices the way people watch them, mostly out of curiosity. That sweet little girl in her blue and white gingham dress and her light up Frozen sandals.  With her unruly hair and her huge blue eyes, her hand tightly clutching his. They probably think he’s a babysitter. Or a family friend. But truth be told, he is closer to her than he’s ever been to any of his blood family.

“Let’s see what we want,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms, settling her on his hip in the same fashion he’s seen Tyler use so many times.  And she curls an arm around his neck and pushes her unruly hair out of her eyes and leans forward as far she can go in order to get a closer look at the tubs of ice cream laid out in the freezer before them. He doesn’t know why he bothers. She orders the same thing every time they’re there.

“Aren’t you a lucky little girl,” the cashier says, as she rings up their order. “Having a friend take you out for ice cream.”

“Oh, he’s not my friend,” Millie informs her. “He’s my brother.”

The woman arches an eyebrow.

“What she means is…” Ovi attempts an explanation of his own, but Millie jumps right in.

“Just ‘cause we look different doesn’t mean he’s not my brother. ‘Cause he is. My mommy and daddy adopted him when his mommy and daddy died. He didn’t have anywhere else to live so mommy and daddy let him live with us. I also have three other brothers.”

“Are they adopted to or…”

“Nope. They’re my real brothers. They have the same mommy and daddy as I do. Two little brothers were enough and when mommy was having another baby, I really wanted a little sister. Or a puppy. Puppies don’t cry all the time and wake me up in the middle of the night and steal my toys. But nope, another brother,” she’s clearly disgusted by that fact. “How come so many boys? Daddy says that some people just have lots of boys and others have lots of girls and some just have a little of both. But mommy says daddy is a boy making machine. Whatever that means.”

“I am so sorry,” Ovi apologizes. “She likes to talk.”

“My brothers that came right after me are twins,” she continues, taking the cashier’s wide-eyed interest and awe at her precociousness as her cue to keep going. “Tanner. And Tyler. Tyler’s my daddy’s name too. My baby brother is Declan. He’s the cutest one. The other two are just way too annoying.  And Declan doesn’t pick on me and pull my hair. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t…” she makes a fist, as if to signify she’s going to punch him in the face if he doesn’t tow the line.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ovi notices the tattooed man in the trucker hat slipping out of his booth; mug of coffee and newspaper in his hands as he moved closer to them. Dropping into one of the stools closest to the entrance.  He shifts nervously from foot to foot; keeping one arm tight around Millie as he pocked his change and then carries her and their treats to the nearest table. He makes sure that he’s facing the door. Tyler has always told him that is was the smart thing to do; you didn’t want to be surprised by trouble sneaking up on you.

He hates that he’s still so paranoid. That the nightmare he’d gone through in Dhaka still bothers him to this day. It’s his cross to bear; painful and heavy. And some days he just wishes he could ease the burden on his tired shoulders.

Instead of taking the seat across from him, Millie slips in right beside him, kneeling on the vinyl bench in order to reach her ice cream.  She happily digs in; spooning the bubble gum flavoured concoction into her mouth as she rattles on about gymnastics and martial arts and how she really wishes that daddy didn’t hate hockey so much, because she’d really like to learn how to play it. And how to hit people really hard and fight them. And as he listens intently and offers up nods and appropriate responses, he casually keeps an eye on the stranger seated at the counter.  Ovi knows he’s watching them. He can feel it every time he looks away to pay attention to Millie.

“Ovi?” she suddenly asks, as she licks ice cream off her fingers.

“Yeah?”

“What does daddy do? What’s his job?”

“He fixes up houses and makes them nice again. And helps people do things they’re not able to do in their own homes. You know that.”

“I don’t mean that job. I mean his other job. The one that Auntie Nik always calls him on the phone about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…”

“He always leaves in the middle of the night and then he’s gone in the morning and I’m mad that he didn’t even say goodbye,” she continues. “And then he’s gone a long time and mommy is really sad and cries about it. She tries to say that she doesn’t cry, but I hear her when she thinks I’m asleep. I know she’s worried about daddy. Is he doing bad things?”

“No,” he assures her. “He’s not.”

“I don’t like that he’s gone all the time. It makes me sad. And then I can’t sleep because I’m sad and daddy isn’t there to tuck me in and read me a story.  Where is he? Where does he go? Mommy says he’s far away, but he still calls us every night. It makes me feel better when he calls. ‘Cause I can hear his voice.”

“He’s a lot of different places,” Ovi explains. “He travels a lot.”

“But what does he do? What kind of job is it?”

“He helps people. People that are in trouble.”

“Are bad guys after the people?”

He nods. “The bad guys are after them and your dad goes and helps them get away. He rescues good people from bad people.”

Her eyes widen and her voice is above a whisper, speaking in astonished awe. “You mean like a superhero?!”

He grins. “Just like a superhero.”

“Like the Avengers?!”

“Just like them. Just like Thor.”

“Oh, he’s my favourite!” she gushes.  “Mommy’s too because she says he’s a total snack.”

“I wouldn’t tell your dad that. About mom thinking Thor’s a snack. Or about how you know he’s a superhero. He doesn’t see himself that way and he doesn’t like to talk about it. You know how some superhero’s keep it a secret and no one knows who they are? That’s how it is with your dad. So we’ll just keep it between us, okay? You don’t want to embarrass him, right?”

“I’m not brave, mate.”

“Of course you are. You rescue people.”

“Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I do other things.”

“You mean like killing people?”

Ovi can hear that conversation as if it were just yesterday. At Gaspar’s house, when he’d asked Tyler if he’d always been brave.  How could you not be? When you willingly put your own life on the line to save the lives of others? Even if there was money involved, it still took a lot of courage to go into a situation where you didn’t know if you’d survive or not.  Tyler and his father were nothing alike. His father had killed people with horrible intentions. Tyler kills because he has to. To save others and himself.  He would never tell the little girl beside him that. Those details are difficult to digest and painful to hear about, and she doesn’t need to know them until she is older.

And maybe not even then.

“Ovi?” she asks once again, and he uses the tip of his thumb to clear ice cream from the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“That man is giving me the creeps.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tries to play it cool. “What man?”

“That one,” her eyes narrow once more as she glares at the stranger in question.  “He keeps looking at us. Why does he keep looking at us?”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute. Or he’s jealous because you have ice cream and he doesn’t.”

“We could always ask him,” she suggests. “About why he’s staring at us.”

“Or we could just mind our own business and eat our ice cream. We don’t want it to melt, do we?” he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her a little closer and a little tighter to his side. 

***

The chime above the door sounds as it swings open and Ovi watches as Tyler and the boys enter; the twins being maneuvered over the threshold with a large, strong hand gripping the back of their shirts, effectively steering them in the right direction. Both have mohawks now; one with frosted green tips, the other blue, and Ovi grins at the sight of Tyler’s own new look. Or was it in an old look? Newish oldish perhaps? The same cut he’d sported when they first five years ago. He remembers how he’d been intrigued by it; no one at school would dare have their hair cut like that and there was no way his own father or any of those paid to watch him would have ever allowed him to get it done.

He also notices it’s a bad knee day. That limp a little more prominent than usual.

“Over here boys,” he says to his sons, and with a gentle push with his thighs sends them the right way.

Ovi clears his throat noisily, making it a point to catch Tyler’s attention. And when their eyes lock, he makes a small nod in the direction of the man sitting at the counter.  Pretending to be immersed in his paper as the cashier refills his coffee mug.  Through the lenses of his sunglasses, Tyler’s able to check him out without even being noticed, and Ovi sees the way his head barely moves as he gives the stranger a once over; his brow slightly furrowed, lips set in a thin line.

“Hi daddy!” Millie cheerfully greets as he approaches the table, and Ovi notices how the stranger finally looks up; no expression on his face as he eyes Tyler from head to toe. “What’s up with your hair?”

“Most of it’s gone. Why? You don’t like it?”

She frowns. “It’s kinda weird.”

“Blame your mother. She likes it like this. Get in,” he instructs his sons, and helps each of them by grabbing the back of their shorts and lifting them onto the bench.

“Nice hair cuts boys,” Ovi enthuses, and he gets high fives from each of them. “Very cool. What’s up with the colour though?”

“My wife’s going to kill me,” Tyler laments, and then heads off to purchase ice cream for the twins. Ovi notices yet again that the man at the counter watches him intently; brows arching as he takes in the tall, powerful frame.

Impressed, maybe? A little intimidated? Even now Ovi himself found it hard not to be. When you’re that tall and you’re back and shoulders are that broad and your muscles are that big, you tend to draw attention to yourself. Mostly it was from women. Ovi noticed that a lot. The females like Tyler’s big muscles and his blue eyes.

Tyler slides into the seat across from him, removing his sunglasses, placing them on the tabletop and then getting the twins settled with their ice cream.  He’s a good dad.  Ovi has always thought so. He’s a gentler version of himself when he’s in ‘dad mode’; his features softening, his voice not as gruff.  Calm and patient.  

“What’s up with that guy?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of the counter.

“He’s been staring at us,” Millie answers for Ovi, as she ducks under the table, crawls to the other side and then resurfaces and climbs onto her dad’s lap.  “It’s creepy.”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute,” her father reasons. “Or he wants your ice cream.”

“That’s what Ovi said. Hey!” she flashes a dramatic pout when he helps himself to some of her treat.

“He’s just been sitting there,” Ovi says. “He was here before we got here.”

“What’s he be doing?”

“Sitting. Reading the paper. Drinking coffee.”

“And watching us,” Millie pipes up. “Super creepy. I don’t like creepers.”

Tyler chuckles at the use of the word ‘creepers’, and running a palm over her hair, drops a kiss on the top of her head.  “You definitely are your mother’s daughter.”

“You ever seen him before?” Ovi asks. Tyler’s in town more than he is; always at the hardware store picking things up for his side business.

“Don’t think so. I think I’d remember a face like that. Definitely doesn’t fit in around here.” But then again, neither did he really. With the accent and the tattoos and the scars. And now the haircut.

“People are weird,” Tanner chimes in.  He’s the observant one out of the two boys; the kind that sits back and quietly takes in a situation or an environment, brain coming up with different scenarios and outcomes. Wise and intelligent beyond his years.

“You’re one to talk with that haircut,” his father teases, and nudges him playfully with his elbow. “You realize your mother is going to seriously hurt me, yeah? She’s not going to be happy at all. Think it’s worth it? Think it’s worth me having to sleep on the couch for the rest of my life?”

His son nods enthusiastically.

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus. Now I remember why your brother is my favourite,” he’s teasing of course, and reaches across the bench to gently and playfully pinch his name sake just below the ribs.

Ovi notices just how much they all actually do like alike.  The same facial features: blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes, almost the exact same colour and texture of hair, the same noses and ears. Even the same smiles and mannerisms.  The way they will each smirk and cock their heads to the side when they’re sensing someone else’s bullshit.  

There are definitely some extremely strong genes on Tyler’s side of the family.

“He’s coming this way,” Ovi whispers, as the stranger slides off his stool, and folds his newspaper and puts it under his arm before carrying his empty cup to the cash register.

He’s average height and has a stocky build. Nothing remarkable about him at all save for the arms full of tattoos.

Tyler casually watches him; legs stretched out under the table, an arm across the back of the booth.   If he senses something is up, Ovi can’t tell for sure.  There’s no darkness to his eyes or furrows across his brow.

The other man turns towards them now, briefly pausing at the side of their table as he looks down at Tyler, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Can I help you, mate?” Tyler asks. Calm. Cool. Collected.  It was a trait that Ovi admired; the ability to stare someone down yet remain completely relaxed and expressionless.

“Just admiring your family. I’ve got a few kids of my own back home. Just made me miss them seeing you all together.”

“Where’s back home?”

“Chicago.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I could say the same about you. Accent and all.”

Tyler nods slowly. “Here for business or…?”

Ovi enjoys watching the process. The way the questions come so easily and never seem prodding or invasive. Tyler’s expression and tone never wavering.

“You could say that. What brought you here?”

“The wife’s from Colorado. Decided to move here when we started having kids.”

“Definitely a nice place to be. Well you all take care. Enjoy your family.  Kids are a special gift. Don’t take it for granted.”

Tyler nods, then casts a casual glance over his shoulder, watching as the man heads through the shop and out the front door.

“Anything?” Ovi asks expectantly.  “Feels weird, right?”

“Felt like it’s just a guy away from home and missing his family. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like. He probably just wanted someone to talk to.”

“But the way he was watching us. The way he was watching Millie…”

“Maybe he has a little girl of his own and she reminds him of her.”

“So you felt nothing? You didn’t feel like there’s something weird? Something’s going on?”

Tyler smirks. “Not every strange person is out to get us, mate. Sometimes people are just weird. Or lonely.  Sometimes they just want someone to talk to and don’t know how to go about it. Remember how you felt when you first moved here? How different it was and you didn’t have any friends? It’s like that. But a hundred times worse. A guy’s thousands of miles from home, missing his wife, missing his kids, maybe having a shit day. So he wants to reach out to someone.”

“So you really felt nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Just a normal guy missing his family, kid. That’s all.  Thought you were getting a handle on this. The paranoia. It’s been five years. If someone from back home was after you, they’d have found you by now.”

“You don’t worry? About people from your past coming to find you?”

“If I just my entire time worrying about stuff like that, I’d never leave the house. And let’s not get too into it, yeah?” he nods down at Millie and then over at the twins. “Little ears and all.”

He likes to keep things on the downlow as far as the kids are concerned. They’re young and vulnerable. Impressionable. And telling them that their dad helps people is one thing, but telling them that he sometimes has to hurt and even kill people to do it, is a different beast all on its own.

“Does chocolate milk come from brown cows?” TJ suddenly asks, effectively breaking the mood.

“Excuse me?” his father laughs. “What?”

“Well if the white milk comes from the black and white cows, where does the chocolate milk come from?” his son continues. “Brown cows, right?”

“That’s not how it works,” Tyler chuckles. “That’s not how any of that works. It comes from putting chocolate in white milk.”

“What about the grass?” Tanner’s turn now. “How come the grass is green and the sky is blue?”

“That’s a simple one,” Tyler says.  “If the sky was green like the grass, you wouldn’t know where to stop mowing.”

Ovi can’t help but laugh at that. The way it is said with the utmost seriousness and how the kids are now both in awe that their dad knew that and thinking he’s apparently the smartest man on the planet.  He’s able to relax again. Calmed by the fact that he’s with his people.

His family.