#it’s been a lot of pain and heartache and nerves and

[allthesethingsthative-read]

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 111

`Jaskier and Geralt are playflirting a lot more than they used to. Geralt allows more touches than normal. They had a heartfelt talk one inebriated night about intimacy and longing for someone to hold. Clearly, they're ready to move forward from friendship into romance, right? Geralt's finally caught wind of Jaskier's hints and is dropping his own? Geralt gave him a custom ring the other day! They're clearly about to embrace each other and make out wildly and it'll be the best day of Jaskier's life! Even if Geralt had just grunted when Jaskier confessed, Jaskier would prefer it to Geralt being disgusted and hating him forever. Jaskier finally plucks up the courage one night to tell Geralt how he feels. Jaskier picks wildflowers and makes a clumsy bouquet, and ties it together along with a handwritten poem about how much Jaskier loves Geralt, and how beautiful he finds him. He finds Geralt sat by the fire, and Jaskier stares at his back for a moment, before clearing his throat, and softly asking Geralt what Geralt thinks about love. Geralt speaks of grief, and loss, and pain. About how it's not worth it in the end. Jaskier is heartbroken but he laughs it off and hides the bouquet deep in his bags. He goes to bed early, and prays that Geralt can't smell his soul-crushing devastation.

Geralt is beginning to panic. Jaskier and him have been flirting, and Jaskier touches him more and for longer, and That One Talk they had that night. But everyone to ever love Geralt has died. Quite horribly. Sometimes by his own hand. He can't love Jaskier, for it'll end with his bard's beautiful lively blue eyes unseeing as he lays dead on the ground. He has nightmares about it for four nights straight. One night, he's poking around at the fire at camp when Jaskier from behind him asks him what he thinks of love. He gives his honest answer. Loving Geralt just isn't worth it. It always ends with pain and heartache.

A few nights later, Jaskier asks Geralt to grab him something from Jaskier's bag. It's nothing. It's simple and unassuming. And yet while Geralt rummages through the bags, he accidentally stumbles across a crumpled little withering bouquet of flowers, complete with a beautiful poem about loving... Him. Jaskier wrote a poem about loving Geralt? Were the flowers for Geralt? Why is it in Jaskier's bag? Did Jaskier lose his nerve? Did Jaskier think better of it? Or was- FUCK. The night at the campfire! Shit, he always does this- This is precisely why he didn't want them to fall in love in the first place! Jaskier would get hurt. But it's too late to stop them falling now, he supposes... He'll think more about the repercussions about it all later. First thing's first, Geralt has to make a bouquet and try his hand at writing.

[always-andromeda]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Father Paul Hill x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 2925

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ okay, I haven't exactly finished a piece in a good while. so this one is sort of serving as a warm-up and if it's terrible (which I have a good feeling it is lmao), I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be gentle on me. I've loved this man for a while now and this is sort of experimental. tl;dr: I am a sensitive little baby right now so treat me as such.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), obviously a pretty massive gap in both age and power, depictions of blood and death, could be read as dub con at first (if you squint really hard) but firmly lands on the side of full con, a lot of religious mumbo jumbo (lmao let's ignore the fact that I know almost nothing about Catholicism <3), so much blasphemy, oral (female receiving), a twinge of sub!Paul, and that's all I can think of!! let me know if more is needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

Behind closed eyelids, all you saw was darkness. And through that darkness came white hot agony. It was practically blinding as it shot up your spine before detonating in your brain. Those little fragments of pain speckled across the inside of your skull.

You wanted to scream, hurl, cry, something. Anything to physically release the intense pain assaulted your nerves. But you wouldn't be granted that mercy. No.

For now, your suffering was confined to this unending darkness. For now, you waited in the void of your own being for the tragedy to subside.

For weeks you anxiously waited for the return of Monsignor Pruitt from his mission trip. Though spending your afternoons looking after the dementia ridden clergyman wasn't exactly your idea of a good time, it was far better than slumming it with Beverly Keane. After all, you were 99% sure that whatever Bev heard managed to make its way all around the island.

Crockett Island was a melting pot of rumors. By now you'd heard the stories; the mythology of the island's residents had woven together to form a complex tapestry. And the longer you stayed, the more you realized how little you desired to be a part of it all.

But you didn't have a choice. Whether you liked it or not, Crockett's citizens had already spun your narrative.

Everyone knew how your mother had taken you away from the island at the ripe age of five years old; saving you the heartache of being raised by an alcoholic father. Part of you had always been grateful for it despite how tough it had been being raised by a single mother who hardly had anything to her name. Yet you couldn't help the guilt that poured into your lungs like cement whenever someone mentioned how much your father had suffered before he died.

Because that was the only way you would've gone back to the island that lived in the shadows of your memory: death. And upon meeting Monsignor Pruitt, it became clear that death would also be the only way you'd want to leave.

The relationship that had bloomed between you and him was a humble one. He'd offered to talk you through your grief which you'd promptly denied. Though you attended services, you weren't much for religion and you weren't about to embrace it fresh off of the death of a father who was practically a stranger. It felt disingenuous.

Finding God is reserved for real tragedies, right?

You'd asked the question like it was a joke.

Monsignor Pruitt had merely tilted his head before replying in that lilting, raspy voice of his: Depends on what you think qualifies as a tragedy.

With a quick eye roll, you'd written the answer off as one of those unbalanced moments of his. Over the course of a few months, you'd become well acquainted with them. Going to services and keeping him company was something to do. Something other than rifling through decades of your father's clutter and further entangling yourself with the community. Something other than being reminded of your own wasted potential.

Strangely, the monsignor felt less like an all seeing eye and more like...a friend. And now, faced with his "temporary" replacement, you were finally certain of what qualified as a tragedy to you.

From the moment Father Paul had addressed the church, you were unsettled. He may have been perfectly kind and personable enough, but his mannerisms edged on the uncanny valley. It was the way he spoke during sermons and how that tone rarely changed during one-on-one conversations. Though he couldn't have been older than thirty, he often held himself as if he'd been around the block more times than anyone could fathom. It was easy to chalk it up to his nature. Of course the man of God had an eerie way of making you feel like a puny mortal.

But Monsignor Pruitt had never made you feel like that. You couldn't brush the thought of the old man out of your mind.

Every time Father Paul attempted to placate your worries, it only pushed you deeper into the depths of distrust. Somehow you just knew he was lying.

And for all of Father Paul's wisdom and mystique, he wasn't a good liar. His tone would shift as he glossed over your concerns with a quick reassurance that Monsignor Pruitt was recovering just fine on the mainland. When you felt brave enough to press him for more, he'd wring his hands or squeeze them into fists. Almost as if he had to physically stop himself from reprimanding you. After all, who were you to question him?

When your eyes finally opened, your vision was overwhelmed by the light. Softly, slowly, the light haloed around the head of a figure that carefully came into view. As your sight sharpened, you quickly realized who stood over you. 

The man you held the most wariness for was kneeling over you. His long face wrought with concern, the alarm bells were already blaring in your muddled mind. But as much as you tried to force the air from your lungs to scream, you could only let out a pathetic, strangled squeak.

That was when he spoke. His voice shook with what sounded like uncertainty, "You mustn't overexert yourself. You're still coming back. But don't worry, you'll be yourself again soon. All in due time."

No matter how much you tried to speak, to move, neither of the actions came to you. All you could do is watch as Father Paul pulled your paralyzed body into his arms and cradled you. And as the potency of your helplessness settled in, you vaguely felt tears prick at your waterline. 

Normally, you would've rather died than allowing yourself to cry in front of someone, especially in front of the father. This time you couldn't control the few tears that slid freely down your cheeks, landing on the father's hand where he gripped your still aching shoulder.

He noticed them immediately and let you out of his grasp long enough to stare into your glossy eyes.

You couldn't quite decipher the intent behind the softness of his gaze. But somehow it was enough to allow the nausea that had slowly been rising in your chest to subside.

Father Paul raised a hand to cup your face. His thumb carefully stroked your cheek, sweeping away the wet trails left by your despair. And whether it was from your sensitivity or the intimacy of the act, you didn't know. But your skin shivered. 

As you gradually regained the feeling in your body, you realized that the first thing you felt after the pain was him. The inherent warmth of his embrace. And in some fucked up way, it was comforting. Feeling like prey, you blinked back the rest of your tears and allowed yourself to soak up as much of him as you could; anything to get rid of the dull pain that plagued your nerves.

You noticed there were tears brimming his own eyes as he smiled softly. "There, you mustn't cry. You've been so brave and in return you've been blessed."

It was then that you began to regain enough cognizance to question what was happening.

Flashes of memory played each time you blinked.

That damned question had been on the tip of your tongue again.

So you found him in the recreational center. There he’d been, on his knees, praying fervently.

Hopefully you're praying for the monsignor's return.

You regretted the words almost as soon as you'd said them. Because as soon as Paul turned, he gave you that dark look that rarely graced his features. This time he hadn't even tried to hide it with his usual discretion.

He merely stared right past you with his eyes wide and pleading. 

You hadn't had the chance to see the thing that attacked you fully. But you felt its teeth at your neck. You felt your own blood dripping from your neck in such a thick stream that the dizziness came almost as soon as you hit the ground. You felt the rough, pale skin of the creature as it smothered you, greedily devouring every ounce of your life.

Of course you were surprised to find yourself lying on the sheets of Paul's bed in his modest home, but that shock was the least of your worries. How were you still alive?

He told his tale as your body mended itself. You didn't know how much time passed. All you knew is that you were enraptured with the sticky sense of dread that was growing in your stomach as he spoke.

You were acutely aware of just how much it sounded like a sermon. How, whether he was aware of it or not, he was pulling out every stop in the preacher's handbook to try and convince you. And if he didn’t sound so convinced himself, you would swear this was deliberate manipulation. But nothing else could possibly explain his youthful appearance and all that he knew. He could recite your history right back to you despite the fact that you’d never once trusted him nearly enough to give it. Only the monsignor knew your deepest fears and your darkest secrets. But this wasn’t your monsignor.

Father Paul was some new beast; an amalgamation of the sweet old man you’d once known, the deceptive preacher who took his place, and some other supernatural force that you couldn’t quite name.

Though you’d only caught half a glimpse of the creature, you attempted to express your terror. That only spurred him on further as he contended that when an angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds upon the birth of Jesus, it deliberately told them to not be afraid.

But none of that explained himself. None of it allowed you to comprehend how Monsignor Pruitt could've shed decades of life; how the old man could now stand there, blood drying on the bottom half of his face, and look at you as if you were something he could have.

You didn't have to ask. You knew by then that when the creature had had its fill of your blood, Father Paul had pulled the scraps of you away for himself. The thought hit you dangerously and made something deep inside you rumble. Like a natural disaster, this had unearthed a litany of complications that you never could’ve anticipated.

“We are at a crossroads," Father Paul said gently before letting his conviction surge again, “Now, you once said that finding God was reserved for those experiencing tragedy, correct?”

You nodded sagely. 

Father Paul grasped your trembling hands in his own, “Have you not experienced one of life’s greatest tragedies? The ending of it? You fell right over the edge of life and before the waters of death could claim you, He brought you back. Hebrought us together.”

You shook your head in defiance.

“This was meant to happen. This was part of His plan, for our faiths — our lives — to be renewed.”

With your throat still stiff and dry, you croaked angrily, “There was nothing wrong with my life! There was nothing that needed to supposedly be renewed!” 

He raised his voice suddenly, “Why did you come to this island?”

“Because my father died.”

“A father who was no better than a stranger to you,” he recalled your own words quickly. If the monsignor had been wise, Father Paul was as sharp as a knife, taking his jabs at you with complete accuracy. “You didn’t have to come here. You didn't have to make friends with a crazy old man. By the grace of God, you were led here. You were led here so you could be shown this truth; this gift. And you are denying this gift."

You had to admit that your draw to Crockett had been strange. At first you'd attested it to some childhood curiosity. But you'd deliberately put off taking care of your father's run down property, instead opting to spend time walking in the light of Pruitt. In truth, his companionship had been a breath of fresh air. 

Though the people of Crockett adored him, it was always tinged with pity. You'd never pitied him; only admired him for his wisdom and his resilience. 

Paul's expression softened as he held your face in his hands. "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you." That was when you saw the edges of his wisdom begin to lift and fall away like a second skin he'd crafted over his own vulnerability.

Underneath it...he was simply a man. A man who wanted to save you. 

“Let me give you more. Let me show you how you can trust me," he whispered.

The first kiss inspired an odd mix of emotions in your chest. There was the coppery tang of dried blood on your tongue, strong enough that it took everything in you not to flinch away from his hold on you. But you remembered his reference to the angel and the shepherds.

Do not be afraid.

So you continued, deepening the kiss with a turn of your head. And for all of the worldly experiences Paul had, you became acutely aware that this sort of connection was not among them.

Whether there'd been any true romantic feelings for the aging monsignor, you couldn't quite say. But your fondness of him had transferred to the man before you. Granted, the transfer wasn't smooth, but it was there nonetheless. Somehow it was stronger than ever as he took your hand and brought it to his lips. The kiss he pressed against your palm was slightly tacky with your own half dried blood still lingering.

You brushed a lock of his wavy, dark hair back so you could properly meet his gaze. With the shroud of time having fallen away from his features you could see just how handsome the man was. It was a hesitant sort of attractiveness; as if the banner of God had prevented him from seeing his full potential.

He'd fed on your life and made himself new. And the thought of your monsignor living on in that small way...all because of you? The electric twinges that sparked in your chest were almost too much to bear.

Without fear you devoured him in another kiss. Quickly the mood turned from reverent to ravenous as Paul attempted to keep up with your fervency.

He couldn't remember the last time sin had overpowered his sense of morality. Because he knew in the traditional sense, this was pure sin. No matter how wrong he believed it might have been to let his hands roam your figure, in his bones it was a temptation that finally felt correct. There was none of that hesitance or shame or fear that he'd felt before. The pendulum had shifted on morality and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Hardly a moment was spared as he tore into the long skirt and the underwear that had kept you modest for far too long. Perfect beauty like this had to be cherished.

So that is what he did. Planted firmly between your legs, he stared up at you with eyes that gently pleaded for permission; for salvation. With your own half lidded eyes, you nodded before spreading yourself open for him.

Like a flower, you bloomed beautifully and Paul groaned at the sight. He could practically feel the thrumming pulse before him as it waited to indulge him. His hot breath teased you and made sparks dance right beneath the surface of your skin. Still you stayed in place, patiently allowing him time to drink in the sight of your folds already puffing and glistening with slick.

Quietly, you heard him mumble something that you only caught the tail end of.

“–forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

It wasn't too long after that when his tongue found a home in that tight, warm crevice. Your hand knitted itself into his dark hair as you searched for something to ground yourself from the overpowering sensation. Something about this new condition of yours heightened every aspect of pleasure.

If you were in your right mind, it would make sense logically considering you'd felt the unbearable pain of your spine shattering and being put back together again. But this was overwhelming in the entirely opposite direction.

You experienced the pleasure on a cellular level as your climax rushed through your limbs. You seemed to feel the vibrancy of every emotion and atom that comprised your being. Nothing was spared from the glory of this blessing. Not your spasming cunt as it contracted around Paul's blessed tongue. Not your heart that was firmly on the track of restoration. And not your mind as it all at once fell apart in time with your quivering thighs. Blood pulsing, every single one of your pores felt more alive than ever as you finally embraced the higher power that had been waiting for you in the shadows all along.

At that moment, you believed it all. From the Angel to Father Paul's divine transformation to the euphoric paradise that enveloped your entire being...it was all real. And most of all, it was all yours. Thanks to the father's grace and generosity, you would create paradise with him. And that seemed possible. After all, with his head between your thighs, you’d both already created one.

[juneyjubilation]

Peter Parker x Reader

in which, peter parker has to break up with you, but he finds himself repeating the day over and over again. He loves you a lot, but in order to protect you from his secret life as spider-man he’s convinced himself he has to. So he finds himself breaking up with you over and over again in a time loop.

no mentions of reader gender, use of 'reader' or y/n!

. . .

You and Peter were sitting in a cozy corner of a bustling café, the clinking of cutlery and murmurs of other patrons providing a pleasant background noise. The air was thick with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods.

Peter's eyes met yours, his face a mix of nerves and warmth. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a flicker of concern. "Is everything okay?"

Peter took a deep breath, his hands fiddling with the edge of the table. "I've come to a decision. I think we should take a break, maybe see other people."

Your heart skipped a beat, confusion clouding your mind. "A break? But why?"

Peter hesitated, his gaze dropping to his lap. "I... I can't tell you everything, and I think it's only fair that you know the whole truth about me."

You reached across the table, your hand gently gripping his. "Peter, what are you talking about? I trust you, and I want to be there for you, no matter what."

He looked into your eyes, the pain etched in his expression. "It's not that simple. I'm protecting you, from me."

You pulled away, a lump forming in your throat. "Protecting me? From you?"

Peter nodded, his voice strained. "I can't put you in danger. I have to protect you from my life, from the things I do."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood, your voice shaking. "I understand, I guess. I wish you'd trust me."

You left the café, your heart heavy as you made your way home. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth you'

You left the café, your heart heavy as you made your way home. The outside air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth you'd felt moments before.

. . .

The next morning, Peter woke up, the events of the previous night heavy on his mind. He got dressed and went about his day, only for his thoughts to replay everything: the date, the breakup, and the heartache.

Peter sat at his small, cluttered desk, his eyes fixated on his phone. He scrolled through the messages, his heart sinking as he came across the familiar text. It was from you, confirming your date for the morning.

His breath hitched, the realization dawning on him. This was the same day. The time loop had started again.

He reread the message, his fingers trembling as he typed out a response. "I'm sorry, I think we should talk. Let's meet at the café instead?"

As he sent the message, a sense of dread settled in his chest. He knew what was coming, the inevitable breakup, the heartache, and the loneliness.

Peter leaned back in his chair, the weight of his secret bearing down on him. He wanted to break free from the loop, to find a way to share his life with you, but he couldn't risk your safety.

The clock ticked on, and he knew he had to face the day, to walk through the motions once more, hoping against hope that somehow, some way, he'd find a solution.

For now, he could only brace himself for the emotions that were about to unfold, the pain of breaking your heart, and the guilt that came with it.

Peter paced back and forth in his apartment, his mind racing as he tried to come up with the perfect words to break up with you. He sat on the couch, his eyes fixating on the wall as he thought through each sentence, each phrase, each word.

He was confident that the previous day had been nothing more than a strange dream, a figment of his imagination. The deja vu he felt was just his mind's way of reminding him of the importance of the conversation ahead.

Peter took a deep breath, standing up and walking over to the window. He stared out at the city, the sun casting a warm glow on the glass.

He sat back down, his thoughts still swirling. He'd try again, this time with a different approach. He'd be more understanding, more empathetic, but still firm in his decision.

He got up and walked over to the door, his hand on the knob. He turned, his eyes meeting the mirror, and a sense of calm washed over him. He had this. He could handle this.

He took another deep breath, and opened the door, stepping into the hall. He walked downstairs, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind focused on the words he'd rehearsed.

He arrived at the café, and his heart sank. There you were, waiting for him, a smile on your face. He took a deep breath, and walked over, his hand reaching out to take yours.

He looked into your eyes, and the words he'd rehearsed flew out of his mind. He couldn't do it. He couldn't hurt you like that.

He pulled you close, his heart racing, his mind reeling. He couldn't break up with you. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

He knew he had to tell you the truth, to share his secret with you. He couldn't keep it hidden any longer. He couldn't keep you from the danger that surrounded him.

He took another deep breath, and pulled you closer, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to tell you. He knew he had to.

… nevermind, Peter was a chicken and he knew it.

Peter's grip on your hand tightened, the weight of his secret and the fear of revealing it to you crushing him. He couldn't bring himself to share his life as Spider-Man, to expose you to the dangers he faced every day.

Choking back his emotions, he took a step back, his voice trembling. "I... I can't do this. I'm sorry. I think it's best if we part ways."

The words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on both of you. You stared at him, confusion and heartbreak etched on your face.

Peter's chest ached as he watched the emotions flicker across your features, regret and guilt gnawing at him. He knew he was making the wrong choice, but the fear of losing you to his world was too much to bear.

He stood, turning away from you, his heart heavy. "I'll always care for you. I'm sorry."

You watched as he walked away, the reality of the situation sinking in. Peter's footsteps faded, and you were left alone, your heart shattered, and your mind reeling.

. . .

Peter jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. The familiar sensation of dread washed over him, and he realized he was trapped once more. The time loop had started anew, and he was destined to relive the same day, the same heartache, and the same fear.

He sat up, his eyes falling on his phone. The screen displayed a message from you, bubbly and cheerful, asking if he was ready for your date.

His stomach churned as he read the message, the same words that had greeted him the past two mornings. He knew what was coming, the inevitable meeting, the breakup, and the crushing loneliness that followed.

Peter leaned back, his mind racing. He couldn't let this happen again. He had to find a way out, to break the cycle. But how? He couldn't risk your life, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

As he dressed, he felt a mix of anguish and dread. He knew the day ahead would be just as painful as the ones before, but he couldn't let that deter him.

He stepped out of his room, the familiarity of his surroundings weighing heavily on him. He'd have to face the day, to go through the motions once more, hoping against hope that this time, things would be different.

Peter took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the room, committing to memory every detail, every object, as if this would be the day he'd finally find a way to break free from the endless loop.

Peter made his way to the café, the streets eerily familiar, as if they were etched into his memory. The buildings, the people, the sounds—everything was exactly as it had been the past two mornings.

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he steeled himself for what was to come. He couldn't let this day end the same way as the previous ones. He had to find a way to change the outcome, to prevent the heartbreak that awaited both of them.

As he entered the café, the same scent of coffee and pastries wafted through the air. The murmurs of other patrons filled the room, and he saw you sitting in the same corner booth, your smile brightening as he approached.

Peter's heart sank, but he squared his shoulders, his resolve growing stronger. He sat down across from you, his voice firm and determined. "I think we need to talk," he began, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

You looked at him, your smile faltering, and he could see the worry in your eyes. "Is everything okay?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Peter hesitated, his grip on the table tightening. "I've come to a decision. I think it's best if we take a break, see other people."

The familiar sense of confusion and hurt flashed across your face, and Peter's heart ached. But this time, he wouldn't falter. He had to protect you, and that meant being strong, even if it meant breaking your heart.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but Peter held firm, his gaze unwavering. He knew this was the only way to keep you safe.

Your hand gripped his, your voice shaking as you stood. "I understand, I guess. I wish you'd trust me."

Peter released your hand, his heart heavy as you left the café. He knew the rest of the day would unfold as it had the previous two times. The breakup, the heartache, and the lonely walk home.

Maybe this time... it would be different.

. . .

Peter awoke once more, the weight of the time loop bearing down on him. He'd tried to change the outcome, to alter the course of the day, but it had ended the same as before.

He sat up, his mind whirling. He had to find another way. He couldn't keep living this loop, this cycle of pain and heartbreak.

He dressed and left his room, his steps heavy as he walked through the familiar halls of his apartment. Peter's eyes darted around the room, the weight of the time loop pressing down on him. He had to find a way to break free, to end this cycle of pain and heartbreak.

Peter tried to break up with you in different ways, each time hoping for a different outcome. He'd tried being gentle, kind, and understanding. He'd tried being firm, assertive, and direct. He'd tried being distant, avoiding you altogether, hoping that time would ease the pain.

In one loop, he tried to avoid the date altogether, but you tracked him down, and he broke the news in a park. The tears streamed down your face, the hurt etched in your eyes, a sight that tore at his heart.

In another loop, he tried to distract you, taking you to a fun event, hoping the excitement would soften the blow. But the truth still had to come out, and the pain was no less intense.

Each loop, Peter's heart shattered, the guilt and sorrow weighing heavier with each passing day. He couldn't bear to lose you, but he couldn't bear to put you in danger either.

He tried to explain, to justify the pain he was inflicting, but the words fell flat. He tried to be honest, to share his secret with you, but the fear of losing you to his world kept him silent.

He tried to be strong, to be brave, but the tears he'd held back for so long finally broke through, and he wept in front of you, the weight of his guilt overwhelming him.

He tried to be kind, to be gentle, but the words he spoke still cut deep, and you walked away, heartbroken, leaving him alone with the echoes of his regret.

He tried to be understanding, to be empathetic, but the pain he caused still lingered, and he couldn't bear the thought of repeating the cycle again.

He tried and tried, but the outcome remained the same, the heartache and the guilt, the pain and the sorrow.

. . .

Peter woke up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw the same text on his phone, the same message from you, asking if he was ready for your date.

He leapt out of bed, his anger and frustration boiling over. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't keep living this loop, this endless cycle of pain and heartache.

He decided to take a different approach, to break the cycle before it even began. He changed into his Spider-Man suit, his mind racing with the plan.He stormed out of his apartment, his mind racing as realized he couldn't break up with you again. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

As he swung through the city, he spotted you walking towards the café. He swooped down, grabbing you in his webs, and lifted you into the air. His free arm tucked around you, shouting over the whooshing of wind, “hang on tight!”

You screamed initially, the shock of being grabbed from the street overwhelming, and your eyes widened in shock, your heart raising in your throat as Spider-Man whisked you away. The cityscape blurred below as he swung between the highrises of New York City.

You screamed initially, the shock of being grabbed from the street overwhelming, and your eyes widened in shock, your heart raising in your throat as Spider-Man whisked you away. The cityscape blurred below as he swung between the high-rises of New York City.

The buildings below grew smaller and smaller, and you couldn't help but laugh, the exhilaration of the experience washing away your initial fear.

Spider-Man landed smoothly on a rooftop, the Empire State Building looming behind him. He released you, and you stood there, catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

He turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and fear. He began with your name - speaking it like a prayer on his tongue, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I can't do it anymore. I can't keep living the same day over and over. I need to tell you something, something I've been trying to avoid for too long."

He reached up, his hands fiddling together nervously. "I'm Spider-Man. And I don't know what else to do but tell you."

"I'm Spider-Man," he repeated, relieved to be finally saying it to you, his voice husky with emotion. "I've been trying to find a way to tell you, to share my life with you, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing you to this world."

"I don't know what else to do but tell you. I need you to know the truth, even if it means losing you." He waited, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding as he watched your expression. This time, he wouldn't let fear dictate his actions. He'd be honest, and he'd face the consequences, no matter how painful the outcome. 

But to his surprise you didn’t scream at him, nor did you demand he bring you back to the cafe so you could break up for good…

In a move that was so distinctly you, you reached out for where his mask tucked into the neckline of his suit. You pulled the mask up to uncover his identity, a small smile playing on your lips. "Peter... You idiot," you said, shaking your head and furrowing your brows, your voice filled with affection. "Why would you being Spider-Man change anything? Why would I love you any less?"

You reached for his neck, pulling the mask up to uncover his identity, a small smile playing on your lips. "Peter... You idiot," you said, shaking your head and furrowing your brows, your voice filled with affection. "Why would you being Spider-Man change anything? Why would I love you any less?"

Your eyes met his, your expression softening as you reached out, taking his hand in yours. "I always knew there was more to you than just Peter Parker. I could see it in your eyes, the way you took in the world around you. But now I know you have a valid reason for missing so many dates and plans."

Peter's heart swelled, relief flooding through him as he realized his fears were unfounded. You didn't recoil at the revelation, didn't turn away or show fear. Instead, you embraced it, accepting him as both Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he squeezed your hand, the weight of the time loop lifting from his shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I've been so scared."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a gentle kiss, your arms wrapping around him. "We'll figure it out together," you promised, your voice firm and reassuring.

Peter breathed in deeply, the world around them coming into focus once more. The time loop was broken, the endless cycle of pain and heartache shattered.

He looked into your eyes, his heart full of love and gratitude. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Peter could see a future with you, a life filled with both joy and challenges, one he was eager to face by your side.

. . . bonus! . . .

“hey pete?”“yes, baby?”

“what did you mean by you couldn’t keep living the same day over and over?”

“please don’t mention it.”

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

January Wedding

Pairing: Wife!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: After years of heartache and pain to get to your special day, you and Natasha finally get your happy ending.

Warnings: Just lots of tear inducing fluff. 

A/N: Did I cry writing this? YEAH MAYBE WHAT ABOUT IT!

I don’t feel weak but I do  Need sometimes for her to protect me  And reconnect me  To the beauty that I’m missin’  And in January we’re gettin’ married

The wind is harsh, whipping through your hair and stinging your face. The weatherman had predicted a much warmer day but this morning, nothing would get you down. You simply added another layer to your outfit as you walked up the steps to the chapel. You and your wife-to-be had split up this morning, not wanting to risk any bad luck before your big day, so you entered the large foyer by yourself. 

Just around the corner was the room where you had placed your dress and all of your amenities for getting ready the day before. As soon as you stepped into the room your eyes found the long white dress which was hanging up near the vanity. It was perfect, having spoken to you the moment you put it on. You couldn’t wait for Natasha to see it. You just knew that her jaw was going to drop when she took in the sight of you in that beautiful dress. You were also incredibly excited to see what she had picked out as well. 

There had been so many things that led you to this moment. A lot of the events that carried you to your wedding day were hard. Heart breaking even. Natasha had gone through a lot and so had you. That’s why you liked to think that this was your reward for sticking by one another’s sides through everything, good and bad. 

You had made your way to the venue an hour early to give yourself time to shake off your nerves. Sitting down in front of the vanity you rubbed a hand over your mouth, taking in the sight of your own face. The time seemed to fly past as it wasn’t long before your mother was knocking on the door. Turning in your chair, you gave her a smile. 

“Hi baby!” She said cheerfully, letting herself in and making her way over to you to hug your neck. “How long have you been here alone?”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t been here for very long.” You lie. 

“Okay, good. Well, mommy is here now! Let’s start getting you ready. Your sister and your friends should be here soon so nothing’s stopping us from going ahead with things.” You nod, positioning yourself in your chair so that she can start on your hair. 

Soon the door was opening and closing again and again as people joined the party. Your sister and four of your friends filed into the room as you struggled to turn around and greet them with your mom’s hands in your hair. Each time you tried to face them she would straighten your head out so she could do what she needed to do, making you chuckle. All of the new people in the room put their things down before crowding around the mirror to get a look at you.

“You’re going to look beautiful.” Your sister gives you a proud smile.

“Are you saying I look ugly now?” 

“What? No!” She protests but you cut her off with a rich laugh.

“I’m just teasing you!” You tell her, nudging her with an arm. She returns the gesture and your mom gives her an annoyed look as she jostles you around, quickly stopping her movements. 

“I wonder what Natasha looks like!” One of your friends chimes in. 

“I know! God, I’m so nervous. I know she’s going to look beautiful!” You say, feeling your breathing becoming heavier. 

“If you know she’s going to look beautiful, why are you nervous?” 

“I’m scared I’m gonna start blubbering like a little baby.” You laugh. This causes everyone in the room to giggle as well, all putting soft hands on you to calm your nerves. You’re so grateful for all of them. You couldn’t imagine this day without them there.  

Soon your mother is finished with your hair and they all begin working on different parts of your makeup. One girl does your foundation and contour, the next does your eye shadow and liner, the next does your lips and blush. Finally they bring you your dress, all hands on deck for helping you into the thing. It’s a little tricky to slide into but the moment it’s on and you get to see the whole beautiful picture, your chest starts to tighten. This is all just a glorious reminder that it is the happiest day of your life. You’re finally marrying your precious Natasha. No one knew her like you did. She needed you as much as you needed her. You truly were one another’s other half. 

When you glanced up at the clock, you knew it was time. You were swimming in a sea of your own emotions as you tried to calm yourself, realizing that you were in the final stretch. All that waiting and hurt. Now you were finally here. Everyone except your mother said goodbye and left the room, leaving the two of you alone. 

“You look absolutely stunning. And Natasha will too. My beautiful girls. It’s all going to be okay. You two were made for each other. Now all that’s left is to walk down that aisle and make it official.” You nod, fighting back the tears. You give your mom a big old bear hug. The moment you pull away she walks you down the hall to where your father is standing outside the main doors that lead into the chapel. As he takes in the sight of you he lets out a shaky breath. 

“You look lovely sweetheart. Are you ready?” As you take his arm you look between both of your parents, smiling widely. 

“For this? I was born ready.” You say. As she finally gets the cue from you your mom sneaks away to a side door where she finally takes her seat. Natasha is already standing on the altar, clenching and unclenching her fists. It was almost time. Soon you’d be walking through those double doors in all of your splendor and glory. You’d be gliding your way down that aisle and when you two finally met again, you’d be getting married. God, she was terrified. Yet she had never been so ready for anything in all of her life. You were her rock. Her guiding light. She needed you so much more than words could possibly express. She was so ready to make you her wife. 

The music began abruptly, prompting everyone to stand and face the double doors. As they opened that’s when the two of you saw each other. Your eyes locked as soon as you stepped into the room and they didn’t leave one another for a second. It’s like everyone else in the room disappeared, leaving you in a world where it was only you two forever. Your father had a hand on your arm as he walked you down the aisle. Happy faces abounded as you felt the eyes of all your friends and family following you up to the altar. Natasha was wearing a floor length dress that hugged her curves beautifully. There were pearls and beads and lace lining the edges of the dress that created an elegant pattern which was very fitting. When you really started to take her in your prediction came true and you began to cry. Seeing this she couldn’t help but laugh which made you laugh as well, trying to rub away some of your excess tears before you got to the altar. 

Once you were there you leaned over and gave your father a kiss on the cheek before turning back to your stunning Natasha. She outstretched her hands and you gladly took them in your own, your tears having subsided now. All you could feel were her warm battle scarred hands resting in yours. The preacher began to speak, saying all the right words and carrying out the ceremony effortlessly. You repeated the things that you needed to repeat and listened when Natasha spoke in turn. Her voice was like a song to you. 

In the middle of the ceremony it was time to say your vows. She didn’t need a slip of paper or a notebook, neither did you. You both knew exactly what you wanted to say to the other. First was Natasha.

“My Y/N. This day has been a long time coming. I have waited impatiently for years now for the right time, the right day, the right gap in our hectic lives. That day is finally here and it’s even more beautiful than I imagined. I knew when I saw you walk through those doors that I would fall in love with you all over again and I was right. If it weren’t for you I might not be alive today. You have saved me again and again. You save me every day when you wake me up with a kiss, you save me with your sweet words and your heart, you save me by being you. Thank you for trusting me, for giving me your love, and for receiving all the love I have to give. It’s been a long journey to get to this point and even now we’re just getting started. We’ve got the rest of our lives to love and live and grow together. And I can’t wait.” 

As soon as she finishes you lean in and kiss her tenderly. Everyone lets out light hearted chuckles and small encouragements as the preacher prompts you to pull away. “It’s not time for that just yet.” 

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” You say with a smile. Now it was your turn. “My darling. My light. My love. My sun, my moon, and my stars. My Natasha. Life has taken us both on very different paths. Yet despite the fact that we come from different places, we found each other. We saw one another’s flaws and strengths and differences and we decided that we wanted each other no matter what. That is the spirit that I am here in today. In the spirit of differences. We will never be the same and thank god we’re not. Because I get to see so many beautiful sides of you that I fall in love with time and time again. You light a fire in me every day and you make me want to be a better person. I see you save the world every day and it reminds me that you are my hero. Not because you save lives for a living but because of your inner strength and beauty. You inspire me with every breath you take and I am so excited for a lifetime of being inspired by you.” 

The crowd coos as the two of you stare longingly into each other’s eyes. The preacher continues with the ceremony, finishing things up as the two of you continue to hold onto the other’s hands. “Y/N L/N, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” 

“I do.” The words sound delicious in your mouth. 

“Natasha Romanoff, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” She rubs a thumb over the back of your hand.

“I do.” The preacher exchanges a smile between you both. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” He jokes and you both hold onto each other’s faces as you press your lips together, kissing one another deeply and fully. As you do the people in the chapel all stand and clap, cheering loudly. You can’t help but smile against her lips. 

Once you both pulled away you felt like brand new people. The world seemed to be just a bit brighter and more beautiful. The two of you walked down the aisle hand in hand as the people around you continued to clap. Once you were out in the hallway you pulled her body against yours, kissing her tenderly again. She held you firmly as you both molded to one another. “Why thank you Mrs. Romanoff.”

“No thank you Mrs. Romanoff.” You reply, loving the way your new name sounds in her mouth. The two of you had decided a long time ago that you would take her last name and you were so glad that you had when the words came out of her mouth. 

“I love you so much my love.” She caressed a hand down your cheek. 

“I love you too baby.” You replied, closing your eyes as she touched you gently. It was all you could do not to cry at the feel of her. This was the beginning of your forever and you couldn’t wait to enjoy every second of married life with your gorgeous new wife. 

You both moved for the doors, heading outside to the car so you could drive to the reception venue. The ride was short and you both clung onto each other the whole way there. Everyone else started to file in shortly after the two of you as you both sat at the head table. You smiled and greeted all of your guests as they shuffled inside and found their seats which were positioned around the dance floor. 

Everything at the reception went wonderfully. It began with a slow dance between you and your wife. The music had come on over the speakers as the two of you moved for the dance floor. The lights were already dimmed as you held each other close, spinning around the floor effortlessly. The feel of her body against your own warmed your entire being as you slid your hand across her waist while you danced. When the song ended the two of you stayed locked there for a while, foreheads pressed against each other’s while the guests clapped. 

After that everything erupted into magnificent chaos. The DJ started up the party track and guests began making their way for the dance floor. Soon enough there was practically no one still sitting, including you and Natasha. You mingled around the floor as you greeted your friends and family. You watched with a laugh as your side of the guests became awestruck at the sight of the Avengers on the dance floor with them. Practically everyone came up to the two of you to offer their congratulations and you both received them with grace and a smile. All the while you two never left each other’s side.

As the night finally began to wind down you and Natasha readied yourselves to head off for the honeymoon. Thanks to Director Fury, her boss, you had been given a free trip to Rome. While Natasha’s job was dangerous, it sometimes had its perks. The guests all formed a line down the sidewalk to watch the two of you depart, waving and saying their goodbyes plus their final congratulations until you were both loaded up into the car and driving for the airport. 

“I can’t wait to take you away from all this craziness. To be alone with you. To get a chance to travel for something other than work.” She says the last line jokingly. “But mostly I’m looking forward to sharing a bed with my new wife.” You blushed as she said this, conjuring images in your mind of the steamy nights to come. 

“I can’t wait either, my darling wife.” You pulled her in for another tender kiss before snuggling into her side, watching the world whiz by as you settled into the idea of your new life with Natasha. 

Tags: @thedinochapter​ @romanoffs-widow​ @thelittleliars​ @wifeofnatasharomanoff​ @natsaffection​ @mostlymarvelsstuff​ @natsglorifiedsimp​ @agathashcrkness​ @starsvck​ @taliasgf​ @sp1dermxmmy​ @me-uglypretty​ @sapphickorro​ 

[compassionatereminders]

hi kat!

i am here because i know you offer a listening ear and often some life advice, and i have something that is weighing on me heavily, and no one really to talk to about it right now.

sorry. this is long. cw for a short mention of suicidal thoughts ?

i have a friend. i HOPE they are still my best friend but im not sure anymore. we have known each other for 6 years and i love them immensely. we had semi-seriously joked about living together someday, and for years until a few months ago, if i was hanging out with a friend, it was them. they are an amazing person, super creative, kind, funny…! we get along like no one ive ever met before. i am also friends with their siblings and their parents.

a few months ago i noticed them changing a bit… more withdrawn… but i figured it was just, yknow, having other stuff, or something. problem is i developed… not a crush… i am aroace, so it isn’t romantic, but it is a deeper platonic love than i have ever felt before. i didn’t tell them cause they’re also aroace, and the only relationship they’ve ever been in caused a lot of trauma… i still don’t know the story there but i know it’s not good. so i decided… i will keep it to myself. but i daydreamed a lot about like, living together… cuddling with them… having them play with my hair. i have a complicated relationship with touch, so that was a big deal for me. but i resigned to never having this, which is okay, but it did cause me heartache.

months later. i go to hang out with them. some physical contact - laying on the ground next to each other, stuff like that. very nice for me. but as it turns out they are actually extremely touch averse - a combination of sensory problems and trauma. they like the IDEA of it but not the reality. so. we had a little discussions, of course i respect their boundaries, but again this causes me some heartache. which i wouldn’t ever tell them about because i wouldn’t want them to feel guilty for this.!

but after that… they don’t talk to me much for a while… they are acting more withdrawn… i know for a fact they were actually purposely avoiding me, lying to me… i see them frequently but i was afraid they didn’t like me anymore and didn’t want to be around me or be friends anymore… well i finally got up the nerve to text them and they said, you know, i am so sorry you felt that way, it isn’t you i am just dealing with some difficult things right now. so i was very relieved.

but still we don’t talk nearly as much… i am still so so afraid they don’t like me but i don’t KNOW. when i m with them it is okay but whenever i am alone… i think about it… and it causes me physical pain… i can’t sleep well, i can’t do my homework, i get sick from it… every time i am by myself… i miss them so much and everything in my life is a reminder of how it used to be… every song is one i used to share with them… my favorite blanket is one they gave me… even our characters had intertwining backstories… it is getting worse every day and i feel like i’m being eaten alive… i am becoming somewhat suicidal and that scares me because i thought i’d gotten through the worst of that but this is so, so much worse… i WON’T hurt myself or commit suicide but sometimes i wish to (again, i will not, that’s not a concern at this point, just that ive been having these thoughts at all).

i can’t stand not knowing if they like me anymore, if anything will ever be the same again, if i am alone and have to find my way to a new future without them in it… i am losing myself to this and i don’t know what to do…! i don’t know if it’s real or not… if i am making it up, if they are just going through stuff themself, i have been on-and-off convinced they are teaming up with a mutual friend to make me feel like this on purpose which OF COURSE they’re not except sometimes i think they are…

have talked about it with 2 important people in my life but not all of it… i am too scared to tell people how deeply i feel about my friend… i am scared of telling people many things about myself…

if you decide to answer, thank you… thank you for all you do for everyone here all the time… i have asked you things before and always i find myself doing better afterwards… so thank you so much. you are lovely and an inspiration to me to do better at boundary setting and similar things… thank you.

I think you gotta go to them and communicate something along the lines of "I have some desires and needs in this relationship which aren't being met, and we need to discuss whether that is something you are comfortable providing. If it isn't, then that doesn't make you a bad person at all, but then I will have to distance myself for a while to work through my own feelings"

[lomaaltakid]

Trauma.

To this day, I still don’t understand it. So many days gone in therapy and still I feel like a lot of things are unanswered. 

But there’s no turning back now. I’m unpacking things I didn’t think I ever would. It’s quite possibly one of the most challenging things I’ve ever had to do in my life. It’s been the reason why I’ve had a break down of some sorts almost every day now and I need to regain composure. Certain topics get easier to discuss little by little, but the water works come out the flood gates whenever something triggers it. Where does my trauma stem? From my past of course. My childhood. Growing up, I was always feeling like I came from a place of privilege, but I wasn’t happy. I could tell you about certain moments that were somewhat memorable, but the dialog gets blurry. It’s been so many years and I’m afraid that my mind tries to hold onto both the good and the bad memories but it’s hard really pinpointing it all and achieving a somewhat “breakthrough” moment that I’ve been led to believe about therapy.

Lot of things trigger the pain... Memories of my parents together, certain smells, certain sights, Annie Lennox’s “No More ‘I Love You’s’”... the latter which I’m currently using as the inspiration to help draft this post in a pool of dried up tears. 

My parents are the source of my trauma. I didn’t have my emotional needs met as a child. I’ve tried over the years to confront my parents about this and in muddled attempts of trying to explain myself, I can’t retain composure and ultimately can’t bring myself to lay it out in a coherent manner. The emotions are too much to bear, the pain is too much to handle, the fear is there... But the fear of what? Abandonment I guess. 

I don’t remember getting held up at gunpoint as a kid, but I sure remember hearing that story an awful lot growing up. After those experiences, our family remained vigilant and my parents held me even tighter in their grip. Ultimately, that led down a path of punishment and discipline that morally wore me down, but family was everything. It was all we had. 

I didn’t have any friends, and it surely wasn’t easy to make friends growing up. I was bullied, ridiculed at school and by the neighbor kids and include that with the discipline I received at home, I didn’t have a safe space for myself at the time. Luckily through my dad, music ended up filling that void, but the only reason I ever took it upon myself was because I wanted to make my father proud. I wanted him to finally be proud of me, and what better way for a father to be proud of his son that for the son to follow in his father’s footsteps in something he loved to do... By now you know the rest of the story... My parents were never approving of anything I did. My father and I would fall out several times and eventually my parents would split. They still live with each other to take care of my special needs brother.  But now fast forward to today. I’m now 30. A lot has happened in my life. I’ve had my heart broken several times, I went through a long bout of depression and self-destruction that surely would’ve meant a much bleeker outlook for my life, but after all that pain and struggle, I knew I had to do something if things were going to change. I got my act together, cut out the self-destruction that I was previously pursuing and now I’m in a much better position. I’m in love again and this time it’s a love that even I have trouble believing.  But that shadow of my past still lingers through every foundation and fiber that makes up my emotional psyche. I struggle with it on a daily basis now that I’m opening up more to embracing the past pain and heartache and realizing that there is a future, but it gets tough. I’m witnessing my parents own demise right in front of me. The two people whom I learned to love the most (who also hurt me the most) are now getting older and developing more problems and the older they get, the more their actions get on my nerves. Those old wounds resurface like rubbing alcohol on a deep flesh wound whenever they set a trigger off and I get so riled up about it. “HOW DARE THEY! THEY’RE MY PARENTS! THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW BETTER BY NOW AND KNOW MY TRIGGERS AND STOP SETTING THEM OFF” I scream in my head at the top of my lungs. But those screams fall on deaf ears. And now I know why it hurts so much.  I’m mouring the relationship I failed to have with my parents ever since I was a baby boy. As these old wounds resurface, memories are beginning to come back and those blurry instances become a bit clearer. 

It’s realizing how traumatized I was seeing my father getting carried to the couch at a family party by my uncle’s because I wasn’t sure what was going on with him. He had too much to drink, and it wasn’t the only isolated incident that I began to recall again. The shocker for me was that in my bout of self-destruction where I was drinking similarly like he was at that time, that memory was so supressed that it took me going to therapy to realize how badly that affected me. It’s having your girlfriend over at your house and your parents showing her an old home movie from 1994 where you see me trying to get my mother’s attention several times with a toy and having her snap at you to be quiet because she was knitting and watching televsion.  And because watching with your girlfriend for the very first time isn’t traumatic enough, it’s hearing your Mom apologize to you in front of her saying “I’m sorry baby, I was such a bad mother to you.” THE. ONE. THING. YOU’VE. BEEN. WANTING. TO. HEAR. FOR. OVER. 20. YEARS.

And instead of providing closure, it just makes it so much more uncomfortable.

It’s coming to terms that as my parents are getting older, my time with them is coming to an end. That nightmare I had when I was six will one day be a possibility. I’m trying to do everything I can to reconnect with them and make up for those 30 years I didn’t get to fully have with them. But what am I actually doing with that? It’s not going to prepare me for when the inevitable happens. I’ve done everything I could to have a proper and decent relationship with them over the years. They were the ones who decided to put up boundaries against me when I needed them the most, and even to this day, they still continue to have boundaries of their own... So why can’t I have my own? Why must I let the shadow of their actions define my life? I’m not saying I need to cut them out completely out of my life, but I need to have the same equal say in my relationship with them and if they’re continuing to hurt me, I have every right to walk away. Maybe this way, I can finally let go of this grudge I’ve been holding on for so many years. But those wounds take time to heal, and the scars tend to bleed from time to time when they get irritated. So it’s a process. Maybe this grudge will never go away truly. Maybe it’s something that will linger over me for the rest of my life. But I’m trying to manage the pain now, so I don’t repeat the cycle in the future. It’s exhausting.

[taromolktea]

Kiss and Patch Up!

pairing. Diluc x Reader

word count. >1.3k

content. you help patch up diluc after he was hurt by the abyss. but god damn, your childhood best friend is getting hotter and hotter

warnings. suggestive, but no nsfw

tag list. (message to be added or removed) 🏷 @icedthoma @citrussaurus

It was already 2 in the morning when you opened the door to Dawn's Winery, allowing the man you were helping to enter. You guided the red head to his master bathroom, located in his bedroom. The two of you were sweaty, tired, and bloody.

"Sit down, I'll be right back." Diluc nodded as you left the bathroom. The tiles were stained by blood coming from the both of you, though most of it was Diluc's, who had a wound on his lower abdomen.

You happened to find Diluc doing his Dark Knight Hero side job as you were completing your own commissions. You only stopped to greet your childhood friend, but it was enough for the abyss to ambush both of you. The main target was Diluc, of course, but since you were there, there was no way you'd let him fight alone. 

"I'm back!" You said as you got inside the bathroom, carrying in your arms different kinds of medical supplies. "Let's that a look at that problematic cut. I'll need that shirt off!"

You helped Diluc take off his dark coat and folded it neatly on the floor as he worked on the buttons of his dress shirt. If this was during any other situation you'd be blushing and looking away from his bare torso, you've had a crush on him since you were kids playing around the woods, but right now, you were more worried about his injury. "It's not as bad as it looks, actually it's pretty shallow." You said touching it gently to not cause him unnecessary pain.

"Well, I can stitch it up to stop the bleeding, but that'll hurt... Do you want me to go get Barbara? She- "

"There's no need to wake her." Diluc interrupted.

"But she can heal you instantly! If I do it, it'll hurt much more." 

"It's okay if it's you." Diluc said looking into your eyes, the eyes he oh— adored so much. "U-uh, she might get suspicious, and she can't know about my identity either so..." He did his best to hide his nerves, coming up with a bad excuse for them to be alone. Even though he had a nasty injury, he still didn't want to ruin the rare moment he was sharing with you.

Ever since he came back to Mondstadt, you two have been rather distant. Not as much as him and Kaeya, but enough to make his heartache whenever he saw you smile and couldn't share it with you. 

You were surprised, to say the least. Diluc has been so nice to you ever since he came back that sometimes you forget you were apart for years. "Well then! I'll do my best."

You rinsed the wound and cleaned it thoroughly before grabbing a potion you had in your adventure bag. "This will help subdue the pain." You whispered, handing it to him.

Diluc nodded and finished the potion in one gulp. He didn't utter a sound, and only so much as gasped in pain when the needle and thread came into play. Yeah, it hurt like hell. Why did they even bother making a potion that doesn't numb all the pain in the first place?

"All done!" You cheered while cutting off the end of the thread. The bathroom looked more like a scene from a horror show, but you couldn't help but giggle. "Ugh, we made such a mess."

The tall man cracked a smile, her laughter has always been contagious, even if he was in pain right now. "Oh yeah, take this." The new potion you handed him made him raise an eyebrow. 

"Don't worry, I'm not drugging you." You joked while signaling him to follow you out of the bathroom. "I know it's a lot, but it'll help with the pain, believe me, I had classes in Sumeru." 

Diluc didn't argue, she was a great student in fact, and took the potion in one gulp, trying to mask the disgust on his face. 

"Well, I should get going then, it's getting late." You said, gathering your things.

"There's no way I'll let you go at this hour after you helped me with the abyss and patched me up." Diluc left his bedroom, leaving you alone. After a few seconds, he came back with Adelinde following closely behind. "You can use this bedroom, Adelinde will prepare it and get you some clothes while you take a bath." Adelinde smiled and bowed and you did the same back, you've known her for years after all. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"You're injured! I can't let you take the couch." You protested. "I don't mind sharing the bed, it's so big after all."

Diluc tried to argue, but Adelinde giggled before interjecting. "Well, you did share the bed countless times when you were kids."

"It's okay if it's you." You smiled before following Adelinde to the other bathroom. Diluc stood there for a while, heart beating faster than he'd like to admit. He was really whipped, even after all those years, wasn't he? 

"Ahhh that felt good." You hummed entering Diluc's bedroom. Maybe it's because you had taken so long, but when you came in, Diluc was sitting on his side of the bed, scribbling something on his journal. "Still keeping a diary after all these years, Diluc?" You asked, sitting down next to him.

Diluc nodded before putting the book down. "It kind of became a nightly habit."

"You really love him don't you? Kaeya, I mean. He was the one who gave it to you after all". You asked, resting your head on the palm of your hand while staring into his fiery red eyes. While he didn't answer, the smile on his face was enough to make your heart flip. "How does your cut feel?"

"It stings a little, but it feels okay."

"I'm sorry for hurting you, if only I had a healing vision..."

"Don't apologize..." He reassured. "You went to Sumeru just to learn how to help people even without a vision, I'm proud of you."

You breathed in sharply at Dilucs words. It's been years since you've talked like this. The time Diluc was away and you went to Sumeru was kinda taboo between you.

"Luc..." The nickname you used long ago spilled from your lips as you went for a hug. It took a while for him to hug back, taken aback after hearing the cute nickname you had given him all those years ago, but he soon wrapped his arms around you as well, squeezing you as if he's been longing for your touch.

Maybe it was the potions he had taken earlier, mixed with the intoxicating smell of your shampoo. Maybe it was because he'd been longing to touch you for so long. Whatever it was, made his mind blurry and tired, so tired in fact that he didn't care about the consequences of his actions anymore.

Diluc pulled away from the hug, and when your face was close enough to his, he captured your lips in his. Your body froze for a second before you slowly raised your hands to cup his face. Your lips were sweet and soft, much more than he’d ever imagined, and your hands fit his face perfectly. 

Before Diluc could deepen the kiss, you were the one to pull away. Your face felt hot and you could hardly maintain visual contact, unlike Diluc, who stared at you like she was the most precious thing he ever laid his eyes upon. "Luc... are you sure you want this?" You asked meekly.

The question didn't surprise him, it's been years since you've known each other, but he never showed any interest in you other than friendship. He had given up after his father's death. You deserved someone who could give you more, maybe Kaeya. He thought he didn't stand a chance against his adopted brother. But that didn't matter anymore.

"I've been sure about this for years now." He whispered, before pulling you into another kiss, this time deeper than the first, one of his hands pulled you in by your waist while the other rested on your neck. 

You didn't hesitate this time, humming into his lips in satisfaction. Ever since you saw each other again you couldn't help but fawn over your childhood friend. It didn't help that you've always had a crush on him too. And when he came back, looking more muscular and mature than before, you couldn't help but yearn for him even more.

A shiver went down your spine and he pressed his lips against your neck and you couldn't help but squeal when he decided to place a loving bite on the spot. A weak smile adorned his features at your reaction and he soon faced you again, before placing one last kiss on your lips. "Let me stop now before it's too late." He played with the hem of your garments before resting his hand on your thigh. 

"I-it's okay, I want it too!" You stated, no shame in your words.

It was Diluc's turn to get red, face matching his hair. His raised his hands to cover his face to stop you from teasing. "I know... I just want it to be more... special."

"You mean, when you don't have a wound that could open mid-" "Yeah, that too."

After some more kisses to calm you down, you and Diluc laid in bed, his arms wrapped around you while you buried your face in the curve of his neck.

"Let's have dinner at your favorite restaurant tomorrow." Diluc said.

"Sure, I'd love to." You answered, hugging him close again. 

[ahdraftingco]

Chapter Three: Never Submit To A Madman | Series: Lesson Learned

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

AO3 Crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40653303

Rating: Explicit, readers are advised to read the warnings below before proceeding.

Series Warnings (in no particular order): Porn with Plot, Dark!Din Djarin, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Master/Slave Relationship, Knife Play (Minor Cuts/Blood), BDSM, Rough Sex, Genuine Fear, Sexual Coercion, Power Play, Degradation, Face Slapping, Spanking, Choking, Gagging, Enemies to Lovers, Possessive Behavior, Spit, Forced Orgasms, Hair Pulling, Multiple Orgasms, Threats of Violence, References to Death/Suicide, Stockholm Syndrome, Emotional Manipulation, Book of Boba Fett Spoilers

Chapter Summary: The Mandalorian has no idea how to deal with you. You're a loose cannon, always testing him, always getting on his nerves, always making his life difficult. But then, there are pockets where you act so broken that he doesn't know how much further he can break you before breaking himself…

Word Count: 11.7k+

***This chapter is part of my Lesson Learned series, if you haven’t read the other chapters, go to the series masterlist: here!***

A/N: As always, please read ALL the specific warnings for this chapter before proceeding: illness/fever, mentions of vomit, LOTS of angst, genuine fear/peril, knife play (we're back bitches!), blood, spit, cuts/bruises, gun kink (oop-that's a new one), predator/prey dynamic, threats of violence/murder, ignored pleas (he doesn't listen to you, he's very mean!), little to no comfort (lol sorry…) 

Read with caution (mind the warnings please!) and plan proper aftercare, this chapter gets real dark so please don't come at me if you ignored my warnings and decided to read without knowing the stakes! The stakes are high in this chapter! It's quite the thrill(er) ~ ♡

You don't know what to make of what's been going on and you're honestly too tired to think all that deeply about it. The more you think, the higher chance you'll slip into one of those dangerous thoughts that will only ruin you in the long run.

You can't fall in love with the Mandalorian.

You simply can't. It's not something that is possible for you. It won't work out. He'll have won and then he'll kill you. That's the game.

But, is death all that terrible compared to what's been going on? You don't know. You really don't.

It's hard to tell which is worse: the degrading, overly possessive, rough sex or the puzzlingly warm and gentle aftercare?

It's tearing you apart and that's purposeful. When you and the Mandalorian have your bouts of pure hate sex, it's raw and there's no feelings attached. It's just to blow off steam and for him to own your pleasure for a moment.

Afterwards, it's a whole different story. You cry a lot. It's uncontrollable. You can't handle the emotions that build up and it just spills out. You wish you didn't want to be held by Din in those moments. You wish you could just deal with it on your own but you can't. It hurts too much to handle alone but then when he has you wrapped in his arms, you don't know if the heartache from his warm embrace is any better.

These moments, these "breaks", they are the only times you get to see him. The version of Din that you actually want to be with. But, you know he doesn't exist. It's all a trick and you need to use it for your own sake, as much as it pains you to do so.

That's what you tell yourself. You tell yourself that you're manipulating him as much as he's trying to manipulate you. You're trying to get him to feel bad for what he's putting you through. That's what you're claiming to do.

However, in reality? You need that kinder, more caring version of Din or else you'll break apart entirely. You wouldn't be able to deal with any of this without him…but you'll never admit that.

Never. Absolutely not. You won't lose.

You can't lose. It'll be over when you do…

There are only two routes you can take that are in your favor: either you find a way out of this collar so you can run away or you kill him and be free forever. There's no scenario where it works out for the both of you.

You shouldn't even dream that such a scenario exists. Why would you want to be with the man who has been holding you captive? Why did you ever even consider it?

The Mandalorian is cruel, sadistic and wants nothing more than to ruin you before he kills you. That is not the type of a man to fall in love with. He's the enemy that you need to escape.

If only it were that easy to flip the switch in your brain when he acts so gentle with you. You try to believe that he is nothing but pure evil but when he's patting your head and telling you that you're safe, it's so fucking hard not to lean in and just accept that comfort wholeheartedly.

You don't know how long it's been. Maybe a week or two. It's hard to tell. There's been a storm raging outside of the cave, which means you're stuck with the Mandalorian.

You've tried a few times to run from him in hopes of losing him in the bad weather. They don't end well. The collar has an even tougher connection than the last and with just a flick of his wrist, he can establish the link and pull you all the way back without breaking a sweat. Then, he punishes you for trying to run in the first place.

All of his punishments involve some kind of forced orgasm or orgasm denial. Either he wants you to beg to finally come or he makes you come so much you can't take it anymore. It drains you of all your energy and you're sure that's why he does it. There's no reason for him to actually want to give you any kind of pleasure.

You wish it didn't feel good. You wish your body didn't crave the way he could make you feel. You wish you could just disconnect completely and not be present but you can't. He makes sure you're fully aware of who's giving you an orgasm. Your mind knows, your body knows, your heart knows.

It burns for him in the worst kind of way.

Though, that's probably just the fever. It's so cold in the cave with the storm and no matter how many layers you wear, they always end up off one way or another, so it's not surprising that you fall ill.

You don't say a word about it. Why? You don't know.

A part of you thinks it's better if you're sick because then you can blame your weakness on something else other than yourself for a moment. It catches up to you quickly though and Din takes notice when you wake up with a jolt, sweating like crazy.

"You're burning up." He tells you as his hand lays on your forehead. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"As if you actually give a shit." You reply rather harshly, not wanting to deal with him right now. "I just want to sleep so leave me alone."

You flip over so you don't have to face him anymore, scooting as close as you can to the wall of the cave that the bed is pressed up against. You wince just a little as you curl up into yourself, the soreness between your legs reminding you of what happened prior to you both falling asleep. You really are burning up though because there's an unbearable heat that's making your head throb and you feel like you're going to throw up. Thankfully it's just a feeling and you force yourself to keep it as that.

That is, until the Mandalorian tries to stuff a pill in your mouth and you nearly vomit from that. You keep it together though but not without cussing him out, "I'm trying to sleep, can you not shove shit down my throat right now!"

"You need to take some medicine and you're obviously too stubborn to do it yourself." He tries to pop the pill in your mouth again but you swat it away. "Just fucking hold still!"

"No!" You scream at him. "I don't want your help, just let me rot!"

"I can't do that." He states firmly and you want to punch him in the face. You hate that he's been going without the helmet. He's too handsome, it's difficult to look at him sometimes, especially when you're supposed to hate him.

"You're kidding, right? You can easily ignore me. Don't act like you care about me. You only want me to get better for your own benefit. Fuck you." You have the urge to spit in his face but he's lucky you're suddenly too woozy to do so. You clutch your forehead, the ache getting worse by the minute, "fuck, this is your fucking fault for bothering me. Just let me sleep."

You lay on your back, trying to alleviate the cramp that's forming in your stomach. Your whole body hurts now too. The only thing you can do for yourself is close your eyes and hope you can sleep it off. But that's kind of hard when Din keeps trying to put a pill in your mouth.

"Will you quit it!" You go to slap his hand away but he snatches your wrist before you can.

"Take the fucking pill." He's very demanding in his tone.

Despite how obviously exhausted you are, you fight back with full force, "I don't want your stupid fucking pill. I don't want your help. I don't want you! Just stop bothering me!"

You should've expected him not to listen, but you would've never expected what would happen next.

Before you can even react, Din has his lips on yours and cold water rushes into your mouth along with the pill. You're forced to swallow it or else you'd choke and you start to sob the moment his lips leave yours. Not because he made you take the medicine, but because he kissed you.

He hasn't kissed you since that night and you haven't wanted him to. You didn't want to remember what his lips felt like pressed up against yours.

Now, your body aches even more.

"How dare you do that to me!" You say as tears run down your eyes. "You're the absolute worst. I hate you so fucking much."

"I know." That's how he always replies. But he never says, "I'm sorry."

That's a first.

When you look up at Din, you want to believe the look of remorse on his face is real but you can't trust him. It's just another trick. It isn't real.

None of it is real…

That's why you tell him, "if you're really sorry, then kiss me again."

You can't read the expression on his face. Probably because your mind is so hazy from the fever. But, even through that fuzziness, you feel him lean down and kiss you.

You choke back a sob as your hands go up to bury themselves into his hair, pulling him in closer, kissing him back. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't have told him to do this.

However you'll justify it by saying he didn't have to listen to you. He chose to do it, that's not in your control, so might as well enjoy it while you can.

Din settles on top of you, his arms hooking under you to hug you as you both share a kiss that's all too loving and filled with such longing. You yearn for him. That's what this feeling is.

Does he yearn for you? Is that why when your lips part from his, he says, "tell me what else you want me to do to prove that I'm sorry."

No. No. Don't do anything. Don't say anything. Don't respond. There's nothing you want from him. Nothing.

Except, that's not true.

You want everything.

But you can't have it. You can't have him.

Even if that's what you want more than anything right now.

You reach up, touching his face. Din hasn't shaved. You like that he doesn't. The scuffiness of his stubble suits him.

As you trace your finger along his jaw, he closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling. You don't touch him anymore, unless you're trying to hit him or tear at his flesh to steady yourself from a rough fucking. There's a reason you don't. It's because when you do, he doesn't feel like a monster. He feels human and that makes it all the more difficult not to fall in love with him.

You figure out what you want from him before this tender moment drags on too long. "Will you answer one question for me and then let me sleep?"

"Okay." He agrees but then adds, "I can't guarantee it'll be the truth though."

"I wouldn't trust you either way." You say back.

"What's your question then?" He prompts for you to continue.

After taking a deep breath, you gently caress his face as you ask him, "if we could turn back time and meet again under different circumstances, do you think we could've been happy together?"

Your eyes meet his soft brown ones the moment he answers, "yes."

"Tragic how we can't always get what we want." You say with a sad smile, repeating a line you had told him once before. Then, you close off that conversation. "Good night, Din."

"Good night, my pretty little thief." He leans in after he says that, kissing your forehead.

Then, Din lays down with his arms open and you fit perfectly in the space he has left for you. You bury your face in his chest as you always do, breathing in the smell of him. Then, like clockwork, you cry yourself to sleep, wondering if his answer was real or not…

Sadly, the pill he gave you doesn't do anything for your illness. You wake up in a hot flash, your fever still going strong.

Is this how you die? Burning up from the inside out?

That's one way to go. A bit ironic, actually.

"Your fever won't break." Din's voice catches you by surprise.

He's sitting up on the bed with a bowl in his lap and a towel in his hand. Has he been…

You touch your forehead and it's wet so you can only assume he has been wiping your sweat off for you. Why would he do that? It seems like unnecessary work for a man who hates you.

"I can do it." You offer to take over but he shakes his head.

"You're sick. You have to let your Master take care of you." As if you needed a reminder of the last time he took care of you and you fell for his stupid act of kindness.

"I don't need you to take care of me." You glare at him.

How many times do you have to tell him that you don't want his help?

"Yes, you do." He's stern and you roll your eyes at him. "Why are you being such a brat right now?"

You laugh at his question. "Do you have a problem with my behavior? If so, then punish me. If not, fuck off."

"If that's how you want to play, then let's play." He sets the bowl and towel aside.

Then, Din grabs you and drags you over towards him until you're sitting up, straddling his lap. What is he going to do? Make you ride him? You wouldn't be surprised.

Though, what he actually does surprises you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you up against his chest. He waits a moment, staring at your shocked reaction, then he leans in and starts to kiss your neck.

You're confused at his soft kisses trailing across your collarbone. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer you.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it off of you, exposing your upper body to him. You watch as he continues peppering kisses on your hot skin with his cold lips. You hate that it feels nice. You want him to stop but your body is leaning into him, wanting more.

Now you see why he's doing this. It's a different kind of torture. Especially when he starts saying things like, "it's going to be okay. I'll cool you off and then you'll rest up and feel better soon. I won't let anything steal you away from me, not even a fever."

"Stop." You've never begged for anything since this whole thing started but you can't handle this. "Don't say shit like that. Not right now, please."

"Why?" He asks, staring up at your tear-filled eyes.

"Because I might start believing you." You lift your hands up to your face, muffling your cries into your palms. "I can't do this. I can't. Not when I'm feeling this weak and vulnerable and–"

Din moves your hands away and takes over, wiping your tears for you. You hate that you let him but you can't help it. Then, he leans in, kissing your cheeks, your eyes, your forehead, your temples, your jaw, every part of your face except your lips.

He saves that for the end, so that you can crave his lips on yours when he commands, "just tell me you love me and all of this ends."

"No." You refuse without hesitation. "I don't love you. Stop trying to trick me. You're a terrible man for doing this to me. I hate you."

"I know." He rests his forehead against yours, the gesture so intimate that you can't stop sobbing from how it feels to be close to him like this. "I know you hate me, but it doesn't mean you can't love me too."

What does that mean? You can't hate him and love him. That doesn't make sense. How would that even be possible?

"Do you love me?" You turn the question back on him.

"No." He breathes out that single word against your lips just like you had, without hesitation.

"Then you have no idea what you're talking about." You bite back with your words. "Hypocrite."

"Why do you do that?" You don't know if it's the fever or if his question is just odd in general.

"Do what?"

"Fight me." He explains. "You always fight me. Why?"

"What slave would submit to their Master? There are no happy prisoners." You can't imagine choosing to be locked in a cage and smiling about it. "All I can do is fight."

"But why now?" He sounds genuinely confused. "Why fight when you're sick and need help?"

"Because the last time I didn't fight and let you help, I got hurt anyway." You lean back, pulling away from his face. "It's better to be sick than to believe in you. I learned that the hard way and now I'm suffering the consequences."

"And what are the consequences?" He acts as if he doesn't know.

So, you'll just have to show him. You cup his face in your hands and you tell him, "these are the consequences."

Then, you kiss him like you've wanted to. Your desire for him is what you have to suffer through for trusting him. His hands go to caress your back, feeling all of those scars that have set in from that week of imprisonment you elect not to think about.

You don't know how long you kiss him for. You don't even pay any mind that he kisses you back. You can't think straight with this fever heating up every inch of your body.

When do his lips leave yours? When does he lay you back onto the bed and get on top of you? When does he start to trail kisses along your skin that are so gentle and comforting that you can't help wanting more?

"Take a break." Din instructs. "Don't think about anything right now, not even me."

That's hard to do when he's pulling your pants off and burying his face between your legs. Your body tenses up when you feel his tongue lick upwards, reminding you of how easily he can make you unravel just like this. And yet, you stop thinking, like he told you to. You close your eyes and sink your hand into his hair and let your mind go blank.

You allow yourself this moment to pretend that the pleasure you're feeling is okay to feel. It's okay to want. It's okay to let him give it to you because you're just so fucking tired of fighting it. So, for this moment, you don't think about the consequences.

You just drown in them, you drown in him.

When his face is close to yours again and his cock is resting deep inside of you, you whisper, "you'll be my downfall."

"And you'll be mine." He whispers back before his lips find yours once again.

You wonder what he means by that.

Will you be his downfall or will you finally be his once you let him become your downfall?

Does it have to be like this? It's unhealthy for you to dream of a universe in which you and Din could be this close without the reminder of what kind of relationship you both truly have. But how can you not imagine it when you are joined together at the hips and he's kissing you like he feels something more for you than pure hatred?

No matter how hot your bodies feel pressed up against one another, the feelings between you two will be as cold as ice. Maybe that's why you both cling onto physical intimacy. It's the only time you can feel warmth in this rather dark and desolate situation.

"Please don't stop." You plead when he moves his lips away. "Not until I can't think straight anymore."

"I told you not to think at all." He says back.

"When have I ever listened to you?" You reply with a smile.

Din shakes his head at you but then he smiles too. It's light, just like yours. You wonder if it's hiding the same kind of pain yours is. This quiet need for one another.

"You should start listening to me." He leans back down, his lips brushing against yours. "It'll be easier if you do."

"Who said I wanted things to be easy? I wouldn't be talking back if I did." You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath, letting yourself be consumed by him. "Now, make me forget this ever happened. Or, better yet, make it so this is all I want to remember."

With that, you pull him in so you can keep kissing him as he fucks you nice and slow. You're lightheaded from the fever, which makes every orgasm all the more overwhelming. You moan against his lips, you grind your hips against his, you try every which way to remain as close as possible to him because you know this moment will never happen again.

Not until you have another excuse like a fever to act on your desires. You have to make it count and then you'll blame it all on the sickness, even when you know you're doing this because you want him while you have a reason to have him.

The exhaustion takes over eventually and you fall into a deep sleep. The kind you're all too familiar with now, the sleep that's induced by countless orgasms that melt your body into the bed.

You never want to wake up…not when you know what's waiting for you when you do.

The fever finally breaks. You sleep off the rest of your illness and when you finally do get up out of bed, you see the Mandalorian getting dressed in his armor.

Is he going somewhere? You assume so because he slips on the helmet before looking over at you.

It's been so long since you've heard his modulated voice that it startles you when he speaks up, "you need to go back in bed."

"I'm fine now. I want to get dressed." You don't like being naked for too long so you stand up to go get new clothes.

However, you don't make it more than a step before your legs give out. You brace yourself to fall flat on your ass but Din catches you, scolding you as he stuffs you back into bed, "you're so fucking stupid sometimes."

"Quit talking about yourself like that." You smirk at your comeback.

He grabs a hold of your throat rather aggressively in response. "Shut up and stay put."

"Make me, asshole." You challenge him and he squeezes tighter.

"Don't fucking test me, I will tie you down again." He threatens and then shoves you into the bed by the throat. "You're going to listen to your Master and stop being a stubborn brat."

You glare at him. As much as you want to argue, you don't want to be tied down if he's going to be leaving for an undetermined amount of time. That doesn't sound very pleasant so you admit defeat just this time, demanding through a strained voice, "fine, but I want some clothes."

Din lets go of his grip on you then. You gasp for air as he goes to get you what you asked for plus a jug of water. He hands you the clothes and goes, "you aren't getting up unless you absolutely need to. You better finish all this water by the time I'm back in a few hours."

"Where are you going?" The curiosity slips out before you can stop it.

"Going on a supply run before the storm gets worse again." You're surprised he actually answered you and it's an honest answer.

The rain has stopped momentarily. Though, it makes you wonder, "why are we staying here if we'll just get stormed in? Don't you still have that place on Tatooine?"

"Do you not like it here?" Why would he ask you that?

"Am I allowed an opinion?" You ask back.

"Stop asking questions and answer me." His tone is stricter with the helmet on.

"It's better than Tatooine, I suppose." If you had to compare the two, you'd definitely pick here but there is one problem, "it's colder here though."

"That's why you should stay under the covers until I'm back." He gestures for you to start putting on your clothes so you can tuck yourself back into bed. "Don't make yourself sick again."

"It's not my fault I got sick in the first place." You feel much better now that you're dressed but the bed is freezing without Din to keep it warm. "Like I said, it's colder here. I'm not used to it…"

You bundle up with the blanket, letting out a light sigh. Hopefully you can go back to sleep before the loneliness seeps in. You're constantly thinking about the last time he left you alone and it makes you wary that he's leaving again. You can't tell him not to go because you have no reason to want him to stay. You'll just have to deal with his absence on your own.

"Move." Din's voice catches you off guard, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You thought he was going to head out, but he's nudging you to scoot over in the bed. You listen mainly because you're so puzzled by his actions. He gets back in bed and quickly pulls you into his arms. It's suddenly so much warmer now and you can't help leaning into him, even though you know you shouldn't.

"I'll leave when you fall back asleep so hurry up." His voice is demanding but his hands are gently rubbing your back. The duality is…something you'll never get used to.

But, you won't complain. It's much more comfortable like this. Enough for you to say, "thank you."

You look up and his helmet is tilted down so you know he's staring back at you as he tells you, "you finally stopped being stubborn."

"Break." You smile and he groans in response, obviously annoyed at your joke.

"Rest up, thief." He pulls you in just a bit closer when he says that, wanting you to get more comfortable.

"Come back soon." The words spill out mindlessly from your lips. "Don't leave me alone for too long this time."

"I'll be right back, I promise." He sounds like he's telling the truth so you nod, closing your eyes.

You feel him pat your head, the small gesture lulling you into a gentle slumber. He leaves once you're sound asleep, though you notice the dip in temperature. It doesn't wake you from your sleep but you know you'll be shivering until he's back.

You wake up maybe an hour or two later and spend the rest of the day trying to stay warm in bed. As much as you'd like to defy him, you ended up drinking all of the water he left for you and only got up to pee and use the refresher. It was fucking hard to walk and stand much. Your body is still sore from being sick, among other things.

Does he want to keep you sore? That would make sense. The weaker you are, the easier it is to control you. But then again, why not let you stay sick? You suppose he needs to make sure you don't accidentally die of natural causes.

Din wants to kill you himself. He would've killed you yesterday if you had told him you loved him. You don't, but if you had said so, he would've put you out of your feverish misery. That's the only reason why he would ask such a thing at that moment.

Now that you have some time alone to think, you think of the kisses he gave you. His lips were so cold against your burning hot skin. Every kiss was methodically placed and you can still feel them. It's like he has left marks on your body, but ones you cannot see.

That's the point. Those kisses were starkly different than how he normally acts. There was no roughness or aggression. He's trying to win you over by giving you these small drops of affection in an ocean of blinding hate.

You won't fall for it this time, even if it feels believable. You brush your fingertips against your lips, which are sensitive to the touch. It happened, you know it did, but it wasn't real.

You have to be able to differentiate between the real Din and this other one that he puts on to play mind games with you.

The real Din is straightforward with his hatred for you. He's the one who grabs you by the neck and hurls insults at you as he makes you come over and over again. That's the real him.

The one that he uses to mess with you is this kinder, warmer, caring Din. He's the one who kisses you and holds you while you cry until you fall asleep. They're like polar opposites who wear the same face and that's what makes it difficult for you to parse through.

Sometimes, there are pockets where you don't know which is which. Was it the real Din earlier who came back to bed despite being fully dressed in his armor because he wanted to make sure you were warm enough to sleep? It felt like it but you can't be sure.

That's the part that bothers you the most. You hate that you can't be sure of anything he does. You can never trust him again, not after he put this collar around your neck. This is a clear sign that he never trusted you in the first place, not even when he saw that you stayed despite having a broken collar before.

Had he thought you were trying to trick him? You aren't a schemer like he is. You wouldn't do that to him. You should learn to, but that's not who you are. You're a thief. Your expertise is in stealing things, not manipulating people.

You sigh, laying back and staring up at the ceiling of the cave, needing a break from your thoughts. The string lights glow above you and you like the way they twinkle. You notice that a few of them need to be replaced. You could reach them if you stood up on the bed, you just need to find where he keeps the replacements.

Are you a bit stir crazy, being all alone in the cave? Terribly so.

Against your best judgment, you shuffle out of bed and go to where Din keeps his storage chests. You chuckle when you see that he has added locks to them. As if a lock could dissuade a thief like you. With some strap metal that's laying around, you makeshift a lockpick and in seconds, you have one of them opened.

You sift through the contents, trying to find the replacement bulbs. There's a lot of random stuff in here. You assume they're things for the N-1 or his armor because they look like spare parts for something. This doesn't seem like the right chest so you lock it and move onto the next one.

The next chest only has clothes in it. These clothes are lighter which is probably why they're stored away. No reason to wear clothing that will only make you more chilly. You lock that one back up and move onto another one.

This one has–

You barely have a chance to look at the weapons in the chest before you're dragged by the hair to your feet. In a matter of moments, you're slammed up against the wall of the cave, a familiar gloved hand gripping your throat.

The Mandalorian is choking you so hard that it feels like the collar around your neck is getting crushed beneath his hand. You're struggling against him, clawing at his arm as tears stream down your face. Your body desperately gasps for air but nothing is entering with your attempts to inhale.

"I told you to stay in bed and this is what I find you doing instead?" He is so fucking pissed that his voice vibrates through the modulator with such fury, "you're in for it this time, thief."

You try to spit out words but they can't leave your lips with how tightly he's strangling you. He can tell you're trying to talk and that just sets him off more.

"Do you think you're going to reason your way out of this?" He laughs at you mockingly before the anger sets back in. "There's no good reason for you to be sniffing through shit that isn't yours. Especially not my weapons chest."

Your vision is already filling up with stars and you know you're going to black out soon. You just wanted to find the lightbulbs…not that he would believe you but you try to explain anyway without words. You point up at one of the dead bulbs above the two of you and the Mandalorian actually looks up. You gesture with all the energy left in your body at it so that he knows exactly what you're referring to.

"The lights?" He tilts his head back down to look at you and you nod furiously, tugging at his arm, hoping he'll give you some air. He doesn't budge because he says, "do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe you picked the locks of my storage chests just to search for the replacement bulbs?"

Fuck! Of course he doesn't believe you! Why would he? You just had to unlock the weapons chest right when he got back.

How were you supposed to know he'd keep a chest filled with weapons under such a flimsy lock?

"You know what, if you want to fuck with my things, let's fuck with my things." He quickly tosses you so hard against the floor that any air left in your lungs gets knocked out before you have to heave to refill them.

Then, you watch as he pulls out a marksman rifle from the chest. What is he–

A harrowing scream launches uncontrollably from the pit of your stomach as he shoots at your feet, barely missing your ankle. You stumble backwards, scrapping your hands against the dirt floors to try to put space between you and him before he can charge another shot. You've seen these weapons before. They need to be loaded one bullet at a time but a single shot can pierce through armor and bone.

You'd surely die if you get hit.

"I would run if I were you." He says rather menacingly, his finger pointing behind you.

You know there's another cavern nearby, but you'd have to run through the forest in the pouring rain to get to it. Is that what he wants you to do?

Is he going to fucking chase you with a rifle right now?

Din answers your internal thoughts by shooting another bullet right next to your hip, which pulls another scream out of you. "If you don't get up in the next five seconds and start running for your fucking life, I won't miss my next shot."

That's all it takes for the adrenaline to rush through your body and you jump to your feet immediately and start hauling ass out of the cave. Another shot narrowly misses you the moment you exit the cave, colliding against the entrance wall. You hear the stone crumble but you don't dare look back.

You sprint through the rain, dodging his bullets by weaving in a zigzag formation. This isn't the first time Din has shot at you during a chase so you're well aware of what you have to do. Though, the previous times have all been because you stole something of his that he really would prefer to have back. This is the first time he's shooting you for the hell of it and you're running from him because he's ready to kill you.

You run into the forest, zipping through the trees, trying not to scream too loudly when you hear the bark beside you break off from a bullet's impact. You're soaking wet from the rain and the forest floor is muddy and disgusting against your bare feet but you suffer through it.

The cavern's entrance is in your sights so you book it in that direction, ducking as a blast almost takes out your head. Din shouts loud enough for you to hear through the rain, "you better dodge better than that, my pretty little thief! I would very much rather bring you back hot but cold is always an option!"

He sounds way too happy at the prospect of dropping you dead with a single shot and you're scared out of your fucking mind.

Thankfully, you reach the cavern and it splits off into five different tunnels. You know he has the bloodhound setting on so it doesn't matter which you choose, he'll follow your footsteps and find you regardless. You opt for the one furthest to the left because it's a more windy tunnel so you can avoid his shots easier.

You're smart with your choice because you round a corner the moment he shoots and the bullet would've hit you if you didn't have a turn to make. Is this really how he's going to kill you? A part of you thinks this is just a punishment and he's not actually chasing you down to murder you but you aren't taking chances.

The tunnel leads out into an underground river system and you have to make a choice. Do you jump into it and let the rapids take you away, hoping for the best, or do you keep pushing forward and pray you don't meet a dead-end?

You glance towards the end of the river and you notice a small dip. Waterfall. You have to take the chance that it will shoot you out somewhere else. You can't get stuck in this cavern. You need to make it back outside somehow.

So, before the Mandalorian can send another bullet in your direction, you dive into the river. He shouts something at you but you can't hear it over the rapids as they force you downstream. That's when you see him activate his jetpack so he can start chasing you that way. You take in a deep breath and duck your head beneath the water, hoping he loses track of you.

You wish you hadn't done that…because you couldn't see how close the waterfall was. You're ill prepared for the sudden drop, your body instinctively wanting to scream which results in you swallowing a bit too much water. You managed to cough it all out before you hit the pool at the bottom. The pool connects to another set of rapids so you're sent right into another quick downwards stream, only this time, you're back outside and the rain is adding to your struggles.

You need to get the fuck out of this river.

A fallen tree has a branch sticking close enough to you that you're able to grab a hold of it the moment you hit it. It knocks the air out of your chest with the sudden impact but you're used to that feeling by now and pull yourself up onto the fallen trunk.

Carefully, you walk along it until your feet are back on the forest floor and you take a moment to fucking breathe. You look around and you can't make out anything that looks like a Mandalorian soaring through the sky. But, again, you can't take any chances, so you catch your breath and use that time to look for somewhere to wait out the rain. You see that there's an abandoned structure made of stone. That seems like a doable place to rest.

Using the rest of your energy, you lug yourself over there. It's not technically ruins but it looks like someone had built this place to live in but then left it to the elements. There's moss and other weeds growing between the stone slabs. You would admire more but you need to get dry.

So, you step inside through the opening and

you see a spiraling metal staircase leading downwards. That's interesting. You quickly follow it downwards and to your surprise, it is indeed a half-built home of sorts. There's some trinkets here and there but you ignore those and immediately go for what you're guessing has to be a fireplace because you need to heat up and bring some light into this place before you can loot it.

Maybe luck is on your side, because there's actually dry wood already in it. You just need to light it. You scan the area for some kind of lighting tool and you see the flint and steel. That's definitely old school but it'll have to do. After a good few minutes of nonstop struggling, you manage to get a spark on the wood and the fire slowly begins to burn. You let out a sigh of relief, dropping to the floor beside it, bathing in the warmth.

Now all you need to do is get out of these clothes. You'll undoubtedly get sick again if you stay in them so you strip and try to ring out as much water as you can at a little drainage hole before setting your clothes to dry near the stove.

As you fight off the shivers, you poke around for something to wear or at least some fabric to wipe the water off your body with. You rummage for a bit before finding a blanket and a very big tunic. That'll work. You throw on the tunic and then bring the blanket to the fireplace, laying it down neatly. Then, you collapse onto it, exhaustion consuming your whole body.

You reach up and touch your neck, feeling the bruise that is already forming. You try to speak a little but every word comes out strained. He didn't hold back at all this time with his grip. He could've killed you.

Din could've killed you many times tonight. You don't know if it was luck or just him purposefully missing, but you can't believe you made it out of there without taking a bullet. The adrenaline is slowly fading and a full body ache is creeping in.

You know he's going to find you soon. There's a tracker in the collar, so it's inevitable. What are you going to tell him when he's here? Do you attempt to explain yourself? Do you beg for your life? Do you promise to be a good girl so he doesn't fucking shoot you?

You haven't felt fear like that since he pulled out the DarkSaber in front of you for the first time. There's something in the way you can't see his face beneath the helmet. Is he smirking when he's got you all scared? You assume so. He loves it when you're frightened.

You wonder what about it makes him feel good. He must hate you so much that the sight of you cowering in fear brings him joy. That's probably it.

You curl up into a ball, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat, taking in deep breaths. You will need to regain some strength before Din finds you.

Too bad things never work out the way you want them to.

Right when you think you've fully calmed down, the sound of his footsteps above you sends you straight back into a panic.

You don't know what to do. Do you try to hide? Do you run again? Do you plead for forgiveness?

You don't have time to think because a bullet blasts through the wall, shaking the room along with it. You scream involuntarily in response, scared by the sudden burst of noise, and put your hands up in surrender, crying out, "please don't kill me. I'll be good for you, Master. I won't do anything like that again, I promise."

"Now, why would I ever trust a thief?" Din's footsteps get louder and louder as he walks down the metal steps one by one, causing your heart to pound.

"Please, I promise, I wasn't going to take anything from you, I just–I just wanted to find the lightbulbs." You sob, your throat hurting so much but you have to fight through the pain.

"Move your fucking hands away from your face." He doesn't sound like he believes you.

You shakily put your hands down, looking up at the barrel of his rifle pointing straight at you. He pushes the gun forward and you immediately crawl backwards until you're backed up against the wall beside the fireplace, breathing in the smell of metal from the tip of the rifle only inches away from your face.

"Do you know what they named this gun?" The Mandalorian shows you the gold bullet before he loads it in with a click, pulling the lever to secure it in place, popping out the old shell in the process. You watch as the casing hits the ground and the only other sound that echoes through the room is him saying, "it's called the Skullpiercer. Do you want to find out why they call it that?"

Suddenly, you feel the metal press up against your forehead and you whimper, looking away from him. He doesn't like that at all because he presses harder against your skin until your eyes shift back to him.

"Look up at me and show me how fucking terrified you are, thief." You're forced to hold your head up against the gun so you can do as he says. He tells you in that menacing tone of his, "now you know what happens when you try to steal from your Master."

"I won't do it again." You swear truthfully because you wouldn't want to be chased like that ever again. "Please, what can I do to make you believe me? I'll do anything, Master. Just don't kill me like this."

"Aww, it's so cute when you want to be a good girl." He's all too demeaning right now. "If only you just listened to your Master in the first place, then none of this would've happened. All you had to do was stay in bed. This is all your fault."

"It is." You admit with such regret in your voice. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I should've stayed in bed. I should've listened to you. Please give me a chance to be better. I want to be better for you. I'll do anything you ask."

"Then, tell me the truth." He demands, the gun never lifting from your head. "Tell me how you really feel about me."

Oh, he wants you to tell him that you–

"I can't." You answer a bit too fast, prepared to meet your end because of it.

"Why not?" He asks, his finger on the trigger, ready to blow your brains out in a second.

"Because I'm dead either way." You say as tears stream down your face. "It won't matter."

"Say it." Din presses you for the answer but you simply shake your head.

"Just kill me already." You close your eyes, accepting your death. You would rather end it here than to ever breathe out your true feelings for him.

"Why won't you say it?" It's obvious he's gritting his teeth, the rage in his tone overflowing. "Why won't you fucking admit it!"

"Because the moment I do, it'll become real." You squeeze your eyes shut tighter to stop the tears from dripping out but they sneak out anyways.

"Why can't it be real?" He asks a very good question.

It can't be real because if it was real, you'd want him to be real. You'd want that Din that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside to be real. But he isn't real so your love can't be real. The real Din is holding a rifle to your head, ready to pierce your skull just like the gun's name.

You can't be in love with this Din. The idea of it scares you more than death itself. How could you be in love with the man who is holding you by the throat, keeping you captive? The man who wants you dead? The man who hates you so much, he would taunt you with the prospect of love for the sake of breaking you down?

You can't love him, even if you want to.

You have to say something in response so you find the only words you can say, "because I'll never stop hating you for doing this to me."

You hate him for fucking up your feelings. You won't ever be normal again, all thanks to him. He has stained your soul, messed up your entire love map, tainted you in every which way possible, flooded your mind with thoughts of him.

You'll never get over him, which is why you can't allow yourself to love him. He'll own you entirely if you do.

You keep your eyes closed, waiting for him to say something or to pull the trigger.

Din ends up doing the latter. In the silence of the room, he presses down on the trigger and a bullet flies out, the sound ricocheting through the air.

That's how it all should've ended for you.

But, it didn't.

Instead, he had lifted the rifle up into the air, firing the bullet into the ceiling, breaking the stone into pieces and letting the rain flood in. You hear chunks of rock hit the ground where you expected your blood to be.

You open your eyes then, puzzled.

Why didn't he kill you? You defied him yet again. You should be dead.

You stare in shock as the Mandalorian flicks his wrist and the chain that connects your collar appears. He tugs you towards him and picks you up onto his arms, not saying a single word. Then, he turns on his jetpack and flies straight up through the stone ceiling, busting it open completely on impact. You clutch onto him as he flies you both back to the cave. You've never been carried like that before, at least not while being flown around.

The rain has soaked your borrowed tunic and your body yet again, but you know that it won't matter. You'll be out of this shirt soon enough.

Din sets you down onto your feet and the link from your collar to his cuff disappears. He pulls out a knife from his boot and proceeds to slice down the middle of your shirt, just like he has done before, only this time he doesn't prick you with it. He merely tears the shirt to shreds and you stand completely still, letting him do it.

Then, he goes, "never wear another man's clothing ever again."

Before you can respond, Din has you by the neck again, cutting off the air to your lungs.

"Don't speak unless your Master has asked you to. Understood?" He releases his hold, waiting for you to respond.

"Yes, Master." You gasp for air after you manage to say those words.

"Now be a good girl and help me undress. It's your fault I'm soaked from the rain in the first place." He taps on the straps that hold his armor in place so you carefully remove them, setting them down on the floor gently.

When those are done, you go to lift his helmet off and he leans down so you can grab a hold of it. Your eyes meet his brown ones when you pull the helmet off of him and before you can even take in the expression on his face, his lips crash against yours, kissing you all of a sudden. You drop the helmet due to the collision but he doesn't seem to care. He just keeps kissing you.

Though, they are different from the ones yesterday. These kisses are hot and passionate, almost dizzying. He deepens them immediately, his tongue wrapping around yours. He really likes stealing your breath away.

When he finally gives you a second to breathe, Din breathes out against your lips, "tell me you love kissing me."

You don't know why you listen, but you tell him, "I love kissing you."

"Good girl." He says as he pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside. "Now, keep doing what I say and I'll forget all about what you did today."

You nod then add, "yes, Master."

Din strips off everything below his waist after that and then drags you right into the refresher, blasting the both of you with hot water. He grabs a hold of your face again and his lips are on yours all too quickly. The water showers over the both of you as his hands roam your body while his mouth owns yours. You can't hold in a moan when you feel his rough fingers between your legs.

He pulls away to demand, "tell me you love it when I touch you."

"I love it when you touch me." You arch your back as he dips two fingers inside of you, palming your clit with every thrust.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" There's such a force in his voice that's both intimidating and alluring at the same time.

"So good." You're a bit too truthful. It's just the combination of the steam in the shower and the lightheadedness from all the kissing that's lowering your inhibitions. You really aren't minding your words right now.

"Tell your Master what you want." He starts to curl his fingers, urging you to confess your desires.

"Please make me come." You want to keep feeling good. You're tired of being afraid. You just want to forget all about it and sink into him.

Din kisses you once again and he finds that pace with his fingers that drives you right over the edge. You ride his fingers as your orgasm shoots through you, sending tingles all over your body.

"Do you want more?" He asks you when your lips part from his. "Tell me you do."

"I do." You comply. "I want more."

"More of what? Use your words." He's more demanding than before.

"More of you, Master." You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers lacing into his hair, needing to touch him. "All of you."

"Good girl. That's what I want to hear." He pulls his hand away from you then, which draws a whine from your lips. "Let's get clean first and then I'll give you more, okay?"

"Okay." You nod in agreement.

You both share sloppy kisses as you wash each other, the bar of soap slipping between your hands and his. There's not a moment where you two aren't close to each other and it's making your mind swirl. You hate that you want to be close to him. You blame it on the fact that his body feels so nice and warm when he presses up against you. You were freezing before so the contrast is addictive now that you're hot again.

In the midst of these steamy kisses, Din whispers against your lips, "tell me you love me."

That's when you realize what he's trying to do. He wants you to give in, but you can't. You already told him you can't.

"No." You pull away, shaking your head. "Don't do this right now."

"Are you really going to defy me?" The anger is seeping back out in his voice. "I told you to do as I say."

"I can't do that. Anything but that." You won't be able to escape if you say it.

"So, you really are a liar then." He pairs his words with a spit in the face, hitting you right in the cheek. The shower washes it away immediately but the action still stiffens you up immensely. "You disappoint me."

"I'm sorry." You don't know what else there is to say.

He laughs at you and you look up at the sadistic expression on his face as he says, "you're sorry? Oh, if only that was all it took to gain my forgiveness. All you had to do was listen to me but you'd rather keep lying to yourself. Don't worry, I'll fuck the truth out of you one way or another."

The refresher shuts off right after Din says that. You both stand there, the water dripping down your bodies, just staring at each other. Your heart is leaping out of your chest because you know something is about to happen. You just can't guess what, not when it's him. He always has something up his sleeve.

"Dry off and go lay in bed under the covers." He commands and you hesitate, which prompts, "I'm not asking. Go, now."

You hurriedly exit the refresher and grab a towel from the stack nearby, getting as much water off your body and your hair as you can before shuffling into bed beneath the covers. You contemplate watching Din dry off but you turn away instead. The more you look at him, the harder this will be. He's just…too real. You wish when he acted so harsh, he'd keep the armor on so he felt less human.

Especially now, when he has a knife pressed to your neck.

Your eyes widen as you meet his gaze. He smiles at you, all giddy, like this isn't fucking psychotic enough as it is. You're both naked and he's on top of you, towering over you, holding your life in his hands. The knife is so close to your skin that you are afraid to breathe. You hold your breath, trying not to cry anymore but you're scared.

You're genuinely fucking afraid he's going to slice your neck open and watch you bleed with that cheeky grin plastered on his face.

"There they are. The waterworks." His other hand goes to wipe the tears that are starting to fall despite your best efforts. "I love it when you cry."

"Why are you doing this?" You shouldn't ask but you need to reason through it to make it make sense.

"Why not?" He smirks, the dull side of the blade pushing into your neck just a bit now, choking you slightly. "Maybe I enjoy watching you squirm."

"You're cruel." You breathe out, closing your eyes as you feel the sharp tip of the blade prick you a little.

"Am I?" He feigns ignorance.

"I hate you." The air stings the now open cut on your neck. It's tiny, but he nicked you enough to bleed, so you can feel it.

"No, you don't." Din holds firm with his beliefs. "You love me but you're just too stubborn to admit it."

"I do not love you." You open your eyes to glare at him. "How could I love a man as horrible as you?"

"Because you love how horrible I am to you."

The knife begins to trail along your skin like it had before, the dull side tracing along different curves of your body. Your neck, your shoulders, your arms, your breasts, your stomach and your hips. You chew on your lip as you feel the cold metal against your inner thighs, way too close for comfort.

"Stop, please." You beg because there's nothing else you can do.

"Tell me you love me and I'll stop." The knife pushes against your inner thigh, forcing you to open your legs wider for him. "That's all it takes. You just have to admit it."

"What are you going to do to me if I don't?" You want to mentally prepare yourself.

But, he doesn't give you the chance.

Din just says "this" before ramming every inch of his cock inside you. You didn't even realize he was hard, or that you were wet enough to take him so suddenly. The motion rips a moan from your lungs and it's quickly quieted by the feeling of the knife against your throat once again. What is he…

"You know, the human body loves a good thrill, like the fear of dying." His words distract you from his other hand sliding down to rest above your clit. "It makes for a better orgasm."

You can't struggle. If you do, the knife will cut into your neck because he has the sharp side facing your skin this time. You can't do anything about the way his fingers are rubbing circles around your clit, making you clench around his cock buried deep inside of you.

All you can do is try to barter with him, "please don't do this. I'll do anything, just stop, please."

"Tell me you love me." Din repeats what he has been demanding this whole time.

"Anything but that. You can have anything but that." Your body tenses up as he slides his cock out of you until only the tip is inside before thrusting the entire length back in one go. Shivers run through you as you feel the knife's presence all too clearly during that moment.

"You would truly rather be fucked with a knife at your throat than admit that you love me?" He shakes his head in disapproval.

"I can't admit something that isn't true." You tell him. "I can say it but I won't mean it."

"That's a lie."

He starts to pull out of you again and you brace yourself for another fast thrust but he doesn't do what you expect. He never does. He sinks his cock back inside of you slowly this time, but his fingers on your clit get rougher and you bite back a whimper.

"Why do you like lying so much?" He grazes your neck lightly with the blade, reminding you that it's there.

"Why do you think I wouldn't be lying if I said that to you?" You're playing his game right back at him. "I could tell you, but why would you believe me? I'm trying to be honest here by refusing."

"No." He's firm with his words. "You wouldn't be lying."

"You'd never know." You say back.

"You just won't admit it, will you?"

"You wouldn't trust me either way." Your hands bundle up the sheets as the fury coursing through him causes him to up his pace, pounding into you rougher now.

Your eyes roll back as he keep hitting that one spot that brings tears back to your eyes. He berates you, "look at you, about to come your fucking brains out. You love having a knife to your throat, don't you? You love the fear I bring out in you."

"No." You cry out, the intensity of everything slowly tearing you apart. "I don't. Stop, please."

"You're such a liar. Can't you feel the way you're milking my cock? Watch." He lifts the knife to press down on your chin, forcing you to look at the way your body is clinging onto him as he pulls out of you. You let out a gasp the moment he slams back into you, having witnessed the entire motion. Your toes curl at the feeling and he smiles at your reaction. "Thankfully, your body doesn't lie."

The knife goes back to your throat, only this time, he lays it flat on top of your collar. Then, he starts to fuck you fast and the way your body shakes in response causes the knife to slide back and forth, the sound of the metal scraping together fills your ears. You bite your lip as the knife brushes along your skin with every thrust, not enough to break through the flesh but enough for you to feel the impact.

All the while, you're edging yourself like crazy. You can't come. You'll fucking explode if you do. The fear of getting your neck sliced open, the fear of how much the thrill is forming a puddle between your legs, the fear of bursting completely and having an orgasm in this kind of scenario is corrupting you.

"You won't be able to hold it in much longer, my pretty little thief." He angles his cock just a bit more to really hit every spot inside of you, knowing that'll send you over the top no matter how hard you try to resist. "I know your body. I know how tight you feel wrapped around my cock when you're about to come."

"I won't." You say through gritted teeth and blurry eyes. "I'm not going to come."

"You know what to do if you want this to end." Din's giving you a final chance to confess the absolute worst sin there is.

You only have two choices now: admit the one truth you know you can't and tell him you love him or let him force this orgasm out of you that will surely taint every fiber of your being forever.

The choice is made the moment you utter the words, "I'll never stop hating you, Din Djarin, so do your fucking worst."

A flip switches in his face. You can see his expression go from downright baffled to unbelievably mad in the matter of seconds. With a few short huffs of pure rage, he tosses the knife aside before pressing both of his hands over your neck as his cock pounds into you relentlessly. He fucks you into the bed, crushing your throat to pin you down.

You scratch at his arms with your nails, digging into them hard enough for him to bleed, reminding you that he is human under that monstrous look in his eyes. Your actions do absolutely nothing. He doesn't let up. He just keeps choking you through his rough thrusts and you try to keep fighting but your body is convulsing. You're too close, you've edged yourself for too long, you're going to fucking burst.

"Come for your Master, you stupid, stubborn, lying thief." He practically shouts the words at you. "Show me how much I've broken you."

It only takes a few more moments for your body to give in completely to his rough thrusts. The tension that has been building up this entire time releases and you come harder than ever before under the immense pressure of his hands around your throat. Your orgasm is so intense that you're gushing all over his cock uncontrollably and he keeps fucking you through it, forcing the pleasure to repeat itself over and over. He releases your throat from his grip and you moan before you even start to breathe again.

Din leans down enough for you to grab a hold of his back, clawing into it for leverage as he drives you into another orgasm, though you can't really tell if it's a new one or just a continuation of the first. It doesn't matter at a certain point. You're too far gone.

You've lost your mind in the high but you're still conscious enough that when he asks if you love him, you still say no.

"Stop lying!" He shouts as he smacks you in the face and you bite your tongue hard enough to bleed in response.

"I hate you." You stare back at him with fierce eyes, sobering up from the slap. You scream back at him, "I hate you with all of my fucking heart!"

"What heart?" He growls back at you, his face matching your ferocity. "I stole your heart a long time ago."

"Now who's the liar?" Your eyes shift to his lips back to his eyes and he follows your gaze. That's how you know he wants you just as much as you want him. "If anything, I stole yours. That's why you hate me so much. Because I refuse to give you mine in return."

"I'm going to kill you." He makes that vow and you laugh in his fucking face.

"Good." You say with a smile. "Kill me. Tear me apart. Rip me to shreds. Because I will never love you like you love me."

"I don't love you!" He shouts as another slap connects with your cheek and you taste the blood pooling in your mouth.

"And I don't love you!" You spit on him and his hand goes to grip your mouth shut by the cheeks.

"But you love this." Din spits back in your face before shoving it into the pillow, flipping your body over with ease.

Your screams muffle as he slams his cock into you from behind. His hand ruthlessly smacks your ass and you have to bite down on the fabric to stop yourself from whimpering.

"You love being used by your Master. You love being taken roughly just like this. You love being fucked senseless by me." Every sentence he utters is coupled with another slap, sending shivers through you.

It's hard to keep your legs bent but you suffer through it because he's right. No matter how much you lie to yourself and to him, you enjoy the hate sex. It's the only part of your relationship with him that feels real.

It's the only time you get to spend with the real Din…

"How can you not love me when you're coming this hard?" He taunts you like he always does. "Your knees are weak. Your body is molded to mine. You'll never feel this good with anyone else but me."

That might be the one truth in the sea of lies.

Lesson learned: never submit to a madman.

It's not the collar holding you captive anymore. It's been him all along. He holds the tightest grip over you and your pleasure and you'll never recover from this.

The Mandalorian has ruined you.

Just like you've ruined him…

A/N: If you've never listened to the song Hurts So Good by Astrid S, that's the vibe for this chapter. I prefer the slow + reverb version, which you can listen to: here! 

I don't know how I'm going to recover from this chapter. Writing it was definitely an adventure. Please let me know if you enjoy the duality and the mixed emotions! I think that's my favorite part of writing this series ~

Who will cave first and admit to their true feelings? Also, do you think there's a chance at a happy ending for these two? I'd love to hear your theories! Can't wait for y'all to see what I've cooked up for the next lesson, hope you enjoyed this one ♡

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[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you and harry meet again after six months.

a/n: hiiii! this is for @theharriediaries fic challenge! the photo used is the one on the left of the banner, and the dialogue i chose was ‘Is this seat taken?’ ‘By you, I hope.’ & ‘I’m sorry it took us this long.’ thank you for creating this challenge, soph!

thank you @sunflowers-styles for beta reading this for me, mwah! <3

WORD COUNT: 12k of dad!harry with slight angst and fluff (pls appreciate the dilfrry dialogues in this lmao)

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘THE TRAIN RIDE BACK TO US’ I’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

The gold bell chimed quite loudly, informing the baristas that someone had entered their shop. The aroma of fresh ground coffee beans immediately filled your senses once you pushed open the sage green door as the smell feeling of nostalgia and comforted you. 

Everything looked the same in the coffee shop. The oak wood floor never changed with coffee stains in certain areas that didn’t quite seem to come off all the way, no matter how hard the employees scrubbed—but it gave the shop character, in your opinion. Different colored potted plants filled the shop in every corner and on the clean white windowsill, making the place look lively. Crisp oxygen mixed with Columbian coffee beans flowed around the shop, making customers want to come back to a comfortable environment. Black and white bistro tables sat within the café, with silver metal bases, holding the circular table tops up as they alternated with colors along the built-in brown bench against the light-gray colored wall; with matching black and white metal chairs that practically screeched against the oak wood floors when someone was trying to scoot in or out of the table. 

The entire shop was the exact same from what you remembered it to be six months ago. The only difference was that when you sat on the wooden bench, specifically at the black table in the corner that was right next to the window, the person who was supposed to be in front of you wouldn’t be there; and for that, your heart dropped a little. 

Trying not to think too much about your change of mood, you ordered your usual—an iced mocha latte with a pump of sweet vanilla syrup—before you paid and turned around to see which tables were available. The usual corner table was staring right at you, practically mocking you, and you wished that the table was occupied, but then you would’ve felt wrong sitting at a different table when yours was clearly open. 

You took your seat on the bench, and almost immediately, you started shaking your leg underneath the table. Your seat felt hot, as if the wood was catching fire underneath you, burning your legs and making you antsy. 

Luckily, the shop wasn’t crowded so it took the baristas less than six minutes to make your drink and to call out your name from behind the counter. Quickly, standing up from the burning hot seat, you made your way to the counter, thanking Mel for the drink. Since coming here, you had become quite a constant in the cute Portland coffee shop. Mel was one of the employees that had worked at the shop the longest, so she made everyone’s drinks because she knew the menu the best. So, you caught up with her a bit, and inevitably, she asked where you had been. 

“You didn’t find a better coffee shop did you?” She teased, making you chuckle. 

“No, I’ve just been, uh, too busy to come around. But I promise, your drinks and shop are still the best,” you said truthfully, to which she beamed. To this day, you hadn’t found a superior coffee shop than ‘Coava’ because the others just didn’t compare—they didn’t make you feel the same way you did with this one. “But thanks for the coffee.” You gave her one last smile before you turned around to make your way back to your table. 

And then the bell chimed. 

It was as if the sun was peeking out through the clouds; the sun beams strongly pointed down onto the wet pavement after a night of rain, leaving the air with its pleasant smell of petrichor. He was the light that seeped through the curtains, and you knew it was going to be a lovely day. 

“Harry…” you stopped in your tracks, careful not to spill the contents of your coffee cup. Your heart skipped several beats once he flashed you his gorgeous smile that you were still hopelessly in love with. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry mindlessly played with the buttons of his coat as he mentally tried to situate the nerves in his head and stomach. His breath felt like it was stuck in his throat, making his voice slightly trail off with a crack to the tone. 

It felt like the two of you were the only ones in the coffee shop—minus the locals who were sitting at the tables, minding their own business, or wondering what the fuck they were doing standing in the middle of the shop—completely and fully captured by the other’s stare and presence. 

The loud screeching noise of steam took you out of your dazy trance as you cleared your throat. Harry looked down at his feet before looking up at you through his lashes, shyly intertwining his hands behind his back. 

“Uh, would you like to join me?” 

Harry raised his brows at your proposal, pursing his lips to contain his giddy excitement. “S-Sure.” You took a deep breath before you started to walk towards the table in the corner—one he was also very familiar with. “This seat...Is this seat taken?” He asked politely but, almost instantly, mentally cursed himself because you wouldn’t have invited him if you were with someone. 

You didn’t catch his slip up, instead, you smiled as your face grew warm. “By you, I hope.” Harry blushed, taking a seat on the black metal chair across from you. 

“So, how’ve you been? It’s been a while since I last saw you,” you mentioned. 

It’d been six months since the last time you saw and sat in front of Harry—a very long six months. The conversation six months ago wasn’t the most happiest of memories because that  conversation brought in the heartache and heartbreak; the chat had included the mutual separation of your relationship that involved tears, chest pain, and as always, the smell of Colombian coffee that surrounded your afflictive conversation, hoping it would calm the tension between you two. 

“Yeah, it has been a while, but I’m doing okay. How are you?” 

“I’m good.” There was a bit of awkwardness swirling in the air, and you absolutely despised it—you wanted it to leave the shop and never return. You had always imagined what it would be like bumping into Harry again, more importantly, what you would say to him. And despite all those moments daydreaming of finding the right words, you were completely stuck, and you fully blamed it on the awkward tension. “Can we not be…y’know, awkward? That’s not us,” you simply said. 

Harry let out a sigh of relief, adding a breathy laugh. “Yes, yes, of course. You’re right, that isn’t us at all.” Mel brought him an iced black coffee since it was his usual, and she saw that he didn’t get the chance to order because he was immediately occupied by the sight of you. He softly thanked her with a smile, only taking his attention off of you for a split second before his eyes were right back on you; he didn’t know what this conversation would lead to, nor did he want to get his hopes up, so that meant spending every moment with his complete attention and eyes averted to you. “I miss you…” he said. 

There was a sense of relief as you exhaled deeply, glad that he wasn’t the only one who was missing the other. His words had brought a flutter of butterflies to your stomach, soaring as they pleased while your face felt warm. 

You and Harry had been together for a year and a half before calling it quits. For most of the relationship, it was happiness and bliss—occasional fights, but they weren’t frequent—towards the last few months however, things were getting a bit stressful. You remembered the days like it was yesterday as the vivid memory crept inside of your head...

It was nearing nine in the evening and the house was quiet. The silence was louder than the ongoing noise inside your head that was constantly yelling at you, making your head ache from the incessant thoughts. It was safe to say that you weren’t happy, and that even Harry wasn’t happy either. But you had only gotten a glimpse of him during the evening, so you were simply assuming that he wasn’t content—but it was a very logical assumption since every time he looked at you, it seemed like he was becoming more stressed out by the minute; as if he didn’t already have a lot on his plate during the day, and by night, he would still have to deal with whatever argument and fight either of you would pick for no apparent reason. 

It started with petty little arguments, getting annoyed and frustrated at the other because of burnt toast or something as small as running out of detergent for the laundry. But fighting over nothing had turned into completely confessing that you weren’t happy anymore, and that the exhaustion had gotten to you. 

“I-I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Harry,” you said in between your sobs that you tried to contain. “All we’re doing is hurting each other—we’re not even happy together anymore!” 

It felt like his heart was exploding, but it was the truth. “Darling…” 

“You can’t lie and tell me that we’re happy together because it’s obvious that we’re not.” You wiped the tears from your face, leaving your skin damp from the moisture. 

Harry sighed deeply, knowing he couldn’t argue anymore. He felt defeated and upset with himself; it was like he was doing well in everything else or at least trying, and he couldn’t even do his part in being a good boyfriend to you. He knew part of the reason why both of you weren’t happy was because of the neglectance, and both of you were too exhausted to even communicate that feeling. You two were both independent entrepreneurs—always knowing when to close business and how to make a well deserved investment or sale with others who were trying to buy whatever stock or product. But when it came down to each other, to Y/N and Harry, it seemed like the individuals that were trying to please and charm others had dissipated, leaving no room or patience for each other. 

“We’re both busy, Harry, I get that. And maybe it’s best if we call it quits until everything settles down—until we both know what we want—”

“I want you,” he interrupted. 

You softly huffed, looking down at your lap as you slightly nodded before you looked up at him again. He had tears streaming down his face and more forming in his eyes; you loved that he wasn’t embarrassed or afraid to show his true emotions—he was being vulnerable every time he let his guard down, and for that, you would appreciate him forever. 

Muffled, static cracks followed by quiet little groans were heard from the baby monitor on the coffee table. Harry glanced at it before looking back at you, knowing he had to take care of his number one priority, and who were you to stop him? So, you nodded, tilting your head towards the room, and he sadly smiled before heading towards the nursery. 

You walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbed a pen and paper, and wrote ‘Meet me at Coava tomorrow. Usual time.’ before you placed it on the coffee table beside the monitor. As you were leaving, you heard soft humming coming from the baby monitor, and your heart squeezed, frowning as this was most likely going to be the last time you were going to be in this house. Taking one look around, you took in all of the memories that you made in the building that made you feel safe and warm before you stepped out, immediately welcomed by the cool temperatures of the evening. 

The next afternoon when you walked into Coava, Harry was already sitting at the usual table you two sat at. His head was down, mindlessly wiping down the condensation that formed outside of his glass. You took a seat in front of him without saying a word, making him look up. He had dark circles around eyes as he hadn’t gotten much sleep. 

“Hi,” you whispered. There was your usual cup of iced coffee placed in front of you. “Thank you for the coffee.” 

He nodded and smiled softly, despite his current mood. “Hello.” 

You took a deep breath. “So…where do we go from here?” 

Harry sadly looked at you with desperation in his eyes that spoke, no, begged you to tell him to stay, to tell him that you two could and would work this out. But it seemed like you hadn’t received that specific message from his green and sorrowful eyes. 

“You were right…We haven’t been able to make time for one another. So, we’ll just…take some time apart.” His heart and voice cracked at the end of his sentence, finding it hard to even form a sentence that didn’t absolutely break him. You nodded, agreeing, but it didn’t hurt any less; you knew this would be best for the two of you because both of you had to focus on yourselves, especially when Harry had his priorities, such as his family, which you weren’t going to make him change whatsoever. “Okay…so, we’re over.” He hadn’t said it as a question but rather a way to see that realization. 

You reached across the table, placing your hand on his, and you were lucky that he didn’t pull away. “Harry, this doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. I…will always love you.” 

“And I’ll always love you too,” he said honestly. 

Behind the civil and mature conversation that occurred, there was sadness and heartbreak. There were no more smiles or laughs, no more love and affection, or anymore meet-ups during lunch or coffee dates during breaks. The painful look on Harry’s face had only pained you even more, but you both knew this split-up and time apart was for the best. 

That was six months ago. 

Now, as you sat across Harry, you felt an overwhelming rush of relief and joy; he just looked happier and you saw a familiar glint in his eyes as he looked at you. It may not be the same sparkle of love as it once was, which you were afraid it wasn’t, but there was still some kind of sparkle—the kind someone would give when they reunite with an old friend. 

“The kids miss you—they miss you a lot.” 

Your eyes look at him fondly at the mention of his children. “Really?” 

“Yeah, they do. They said, and I quote, they miss their ‘pretty fairy second mom,’” Harry said quite proudly. 

Harry had three kids that you absolutely adored. There was Mira and Estelle, seven-year-old twins that looked like their father. Mira was very energetic and talkative—that little girl could talk for hours on end without missing a beat; Estelle was more quiet and reserved, but once you started hanging around, she opened up and was quite fun to have a laugh with. Then there was the sweet little two-year-old boy, Rory, who resembled his mother. He was always babbling and giggling, so happy and free. 

If Harry was being honest, Rory was a complete accident. Him and his ex had separated and broken up when the twins were four, but they were still seeing each other. Those occasional hangouts led to another child, which they both thought would help them bond, but six months into the pregnancy, they both knew it wasn’t right anymore—not like before. So, they stuck to coparenting and, if they were speaking the truth, it was much better than being together. 

When Rory was six months old, that was when Harry met you. On an unexpected literal run in the park when you and Harry were on your daily runs, the trail was only narrow and small enough for one person to run. So, when you and Harry were running towards each other, you braced yourself for the awkwardness you were about to face with the man. Harry politely smiled, moving to his left, only for you to move to your right, which made you both giggle. The two of you then moved to the opposite side, only to clash again. The thought was quite hilarious to the two of you, so you both started laughing, clutching your stomachs. Once you two calmed down, Harry then said that he was going to his left, so you moved to your left, running the opposite directions from each other. 

At the end of the trail and on your way to the parking lot, you saw Harry finish the same trail but exit from the other side. And if it said anything more, you parked right next to his car as well. Harry smiled, dimples flashing and asked you how your run was, which then led to a bit of small talk. In the six minutes you two were talking, Harry made the impulsive decision to ask you if you would like some coffee. He wouldn’t have asked if it were anyone else, and until that moment he didn’t even know  if he was ready to date again. But he took the chance and decided to ask you, and luckily, you said yes. 

The rest was history. 

“I miss them so much too.” You smiled softly, thinking about the kids that you had thought of as your own. 

“I, uh, I know it’s too much to ask, but I figured I should ask either way…Would you like to see them? Mira would never live it down if I told them that I saw you and didn’t ask if you wanted to see them.” He added a chuckle at the end, nerves creeping up his skin. 

Your eyes lit up. “Really? You’d let me see them?” 

Harry raised his brows. “Yeah, of course! You could see them anytime you want, if you’d like. Just because we’re not, y’know, together doesn’t mean that you can’t see them. I know how much you love them and how much they love you too,” he reassured. 

“Would Laurie be okay with that?” You asked about his ex and the mother of said children. 

He nodded. “Yeah, she would. I mean, she also knows how much they love you.” Harry was lucky that the mother of his children and his ex was so kind and chill with having someone that Harry loved be ‘another mother’ to her children; all Laurie really asked of you was to not try and replace her role as their mom and to always keep them safe when she wasn’t around, and who were you to disrespect her wishes? 

“Harry, I would love to, thank you. I really do miss them.” You felt yourself getting a bit emotional because of how much you missed the kids, and it’d felt like an eternity since you last saw them. 

“Great! Tomorrow is the weekend, so are you free to go to the park and maybe get some ice cream after?” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” You smiled, not too widely as you tried to contain your excitement. 

Harry smiled back at you before quickly looking at his phone to check the time. “I gotta get back. But I’ll see you tomorrow and will text you the details tonight.” 

“Okay, see you soon.” You stood up to hug him, and his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, hugging you to his chest. His stomach was doing flips as he felt your breath against the crook of his neck. He didn’t want the moment to end, and it was the most physical contact that you two had in six months. 

Pulling away, he offered you a smile before bidding you goodbye, and you finally let out the breath you had been holding the moment the bell chimed and the man you still loved walked in. 

A soft blush was planted on Harry’s cheeks for the entire day. He was driving from work to Laurie’s house to pick up his beloved children as he thought about how his day turned out to be. 

In all honesty, he hadn’t expected to see you in the coffee shop that you two had gone to throughout the entirety of your relationship. He had just gotten out of a meeting and was debating on going to Coava because he hadn’t been there since the day you two called it quits, but he figured it was time and thought that maybe reminiscing on the memories you two had with each other wasn’t a bad thing. So, he walked into that shop thinking he was just going to get a coffee to-go, but he had gone in there and left with something so much better. 

The moment his eyes landed on yours his mind had screamed and reassured him that he wasn’t just dreaming that you were standing right in front of him, he felt his stomach drop in the best way. The heat had rushed to his cheeks, tugging on the corners of his lips, urging his mouth to smile, and he did not hold back his joy when he saw you. You were beautiful, just like he remembered, but he had no doubt that there wasn’t a day that went by where you weren’t not absolutely stunning. 

And the giddy feeling he felt when he asked you if you’d like to see the kids made his heart tumble inside of his chest as he couldn’t wait for you and the kids to finally see each other again. 

Harry pulled into Laurie’s driveway, and he quickly got out and knocked on the door, waiting for Laurie to answer. He chuckled as he could practically hear the twins screaming from across the house to make sure they had everything they needed. When the door opened, he was met by his ex that he once loved, and still had some platonic love for her, naturally, as the mother of his children. 

“Hey, Harry! They’re just getting their stuff ready,” she greeted with a smile, opening the door wider as she walked away from the entrance and let him in. She grabbed Rory from the couch, who was mindlessly playing with a giant puzzle piece, and gave him many kisses to his cheeks before saying goodbye to her son and handing him off to Harry. 

Rory’s eyes lightened up at the sight of his father. “Dada!”

“Hi, my sweet boy. I’ve missed you.” He placed soft kisses to his chubby and squeezable cheeks. 

“Girls, dad’s waiting!” Laurie called out from the bottom of the stairway before turning back towards Harry. “Why do you look like that?” She gave him a knowing look. 

“Like what?” Harry asked, acting like he didn’t know what she was talking about. The blush really gave him away, he thought. 

“You’re just…extra happy today.” 

“Can’t I be happy, Laurie? To see my kids?” He teased, smirking as he hugged Rory to his chest. 

“I mean, sure, but…did something happen today?” 

His smile widened, and it was like he couldn’t contain the exciting feeling anymore and he just had to tell someone. “I saw Y/N today.” 

Her brows raised. “Really? How is she?” 

“She’s doing well, yeah. We talked for a little bit.” Was all that he told her. 

“And I’m assuming it went well.” He nodded, not wanting to tell her more. “Well, that’s great, Harry. She was, is, a lovely woman and she took care of the kids, so that’s all that matters to me,” Laurie said genuinely; she wasn’t jealous, if she was being honest. All that mattered to her was that her kids were in good hands. 

Suddenly more footsteps were coming down the stairs. “Dad!” The twins yelled at the same time. He put Rory down for a moment before he bent down to hug his two girls. 

“Hi, my loves. How are you?” He kissed both of their cheeks, making their small arms hug him tighter. 

“Dad, I scored one hundred percent on all my spelling tests, so I’m qualified for the spelling bee!” Mira explained excitedly once she let go of Harry. 

“Really?! That’s amazing, bug. This week, I’ll help you study for it.” Mira beamed at that before walking over to her mom to say bye. 

“How are you, my sunshine?” He directly asked Estelle, knowing that she was specifically waiting for Harry to have his attention on only her. Even though she’d never told him that, he could tell that sometimes Estelle lets Mira have her moment and wanted to speak with Harry when no one else was paying attention. 

“I’m good. My teacher told me I could become a math…mathmat—daddy, what are they called?” She looked at Harry for help. 

“Look at you, sunshine! I’m so proud of you my little mathematician.” Estelle’s eyes widened. “Is that you meant mathematician, sweetheart?” He smiled. 

“Yes, that! I did good on my math test and even baked cookies for you!” Before Harry could say anything, Estelle ran off to the kitchen to grab the plate of cookies she baked last night. 

“Alright, babies, let’s go. Say bye to mommy.” The kids said their goodbyes before Harry safely buckled them into their car seats and drove home for a week at their father’s. 

When all four of them reached the front door, Harry told the twins to put their belongings away and wash up for dinner. He set Rory down in his high chair before cutting up some bananas in halves, and placing them on the plastic table in front of him for his pre-dinner snack. Knowing that his kids liked home cooked meals better than takeout, fortunately, he set out the ingredients to make some fried rice, which was quick and easy. 

The twins rushed down the stairs once Harry put the leftover rice into the pan filled with sautéed veggies, and they settled onto the couch in front of the TV, waiting for dinner.

“Loves, set the table for me, please!” He called out from the kitchen as he transferred the rice from the pan to a large bowl, topping it with green onions. The girls each had a task for setting the table; Mira was in charge of forks and spoons, and Estelle handled the plates since she was less clums. He rolled Rory’s high chair over to the table, which he was so lucky to have gotten a high chair with wheels because it was so much easier to move him without carrying him and the chair; and he gave everyone an equal scoop, depending on how much they ate, and if they wanted seconds, he would be glad to serve them more. 

As they ate, Harry was occasionally helping Rory eat the rice, just picking up the contents that didn’t make it into his mouth, as Estelle and Mira both took turns talking. Harry loved family dinner, he tried his very best to give all three of his children the attention that they deserved, but dinner was the one time they bonded the most because no one felt competitive or had the urge to start an argument when there was food in front of them. 

“Daddy, how was your day?” Estelle asked curiously, and Harry smiled at his sunshine, as if she was the sun itself, heart swooning. 

“It was great, thanks for asking, my love.” He placed his spoon on his plate. “I actually wanted to talk to you all about something.” The twins didn’t respond, just stared at him, encouraging him to continue. “Do you remember Y/N?” Just at the sound of your name, the crowd went absolutely wild. 

“Y/N, yes!” Screamed Estelle, which was rare for her to raise her voice. 

“Pretty, fairy second mom, of course we remember her, dad!” Mira exclaimed obviously. 

“Fairy!” Rory had repeated the only word he could make out from Mira’s mouth as he fussed because of the volume that had increased from his sisters. 

Harry laughed. “Alright, okay, settle down. Well, I saw her today.” The twins gasped, making him chuckle. It genuinely felt like he was on a talk show with a live audience. “And I wanted to ask you all if you wanted to see her tomorrow? Figured we could go to the park and get some ice cream together?” He asked hesitantly, even though he knew they’d say yes, and he’d get another chance to see you again. 

“Yes!” The girls both answered. 

Harry beamed, turning to Rory. “Bubba, remember Y/N? Your slide friend? Remember you used to go on the slide with Y/N?” Rory giggled, a sound that was Harry’s weakness, and nodded. “Do you wanna see her tomorrow?” 

“Slide with fairy?” Rory asked, and Harry laughed. 

“Yes, slide with fairy,” he confirmed, and Rory nodded his head eagerly. 

Harry smiled, glad his kids were with the plans tomorrow. The rest of the dinner was filled with the twins talking about you; they talked about what you all could do together at the park and what they wanted to show you, and Harry would be lucky if they slept through the entire night without continuously waking up because of their excitement for the upcoming afternoon. 

Once everything was cleaned up and put away, the twins washed and cleaned, Harry give Rory a bath, and everyone was ready for bed, Harry said good night to his babies, spending about five minutes cuddling and talking them to sleep until they fluttered their eyes closed and off to slumber. 

Sighing, Harry closed his door, leaving the baby monitor from Rory’s room on his bedside table before he was able to unwind for the day. He always spent an extra amount of time on his skin care routine, figuring that he sometimes didn’t have time for himself and the only time he had was during nights. 

When he was ready for bed, he felt a huge amount of relief to be getting into bed after a long but grateful day, and he picked up his phone and clicked on your message thread. The last time you two texted was a few weeks after the breakup, asking if you were doing okay, and he could practically feel the awkward tension through the texts as he reread them. But he was glad that this time would be a much lighter and better conversation. 

Hi, Y/N. Hope this is the right number still. But if it is, kids are on board for tomorrow. Does 12:30 work for you? We could meet at the usual park. If it’s not Y/N, please don’t meet at the usual park because the kids are not on board. 

You chuckled at the end of his text, happy to see that Harry is always trying to make jokes and be the comedian. 

Hi, Harry! Don’t worry, this is Y/N. Probably would have hunted the person with my number down to get tomorrow’s plans. But that sounds perfect! I can't wait to see the kids tomorrow. See you then! 

Harry softly smiled at his phone, not feeling the need to respond and figured he would talk to you a lot more tomorrow while the kids are playing. He stared at the message for quite some time, completely blank as he couldn’t believe the chances that he happened to see you at the shop six months after the breakup, and now he’s making plans with you tomorrow; his jaw was aching from smiling so much. 

A few minutes later, he put his phone away to change before he comfortably situated himself under the blanket, feeling the heaviness of his eyes. But once he felt himself starting to drift away into dreamland, his phone buzzed on his nightstand, and he tried his best to ignore it, but curiosity got the best of him, so he picked up his phone and opened the new message. 

And I can’t wait to see you tomorrow too.  

And just like that, Harry was wide awake, struggling to sleep, but a smile permanently etched on his face for the night. 

The day that everyone in the Styles’ household had been waiting for had finally arrived. Luckily, the kids had gotten their needed hours of sleep; Harry had only gotten a few hours of sleep, but when the sun seeped through his curtains, he didn’t dread getting up for the day. Instead, he felt a rush of eagerness, instantly remembering what the day held for him and his kids, and he jumped right out of bed. 

Once the four of them were out of the house, Harry had successfully fed, cleaned, and changed his children with no complaints. The house and car ride was filled with conversations about how excited they were to see you again, asking how many more hours there was until they got to see you and if they were almost at the park. 

Screams bounced off the roof of the car once Harry parked on the side of the curb; the twins had already taken their seatbelts off, getting antsy as they waited for their dad to open the car from the outside. Harry unbuckled Rory, carrying him until he rounded on the other side of the car to open the door for the twins. They quickly jumped out, clearly excited, but Harry did not forget to remind them that this was still a public area and anything could happen. 

“Girls, slow down, please.” Estelle was holding Harry’s hand as Mira was holding her sister’s; Harry was still carrying Rory in his arms because his sister’s were practically lugging Harry with all their might, trying to get to their usual spot, so he didn’t want Rory to get hurt. “Loves, you know Y/N would tell you the exact same thing. Please, just slow down for me.” He pulled the Y/N card on them, knowing that they were better listeners with you than they are with him. 

Once they were all close enough, they spotted a thick beige blanket under the tree with a picnic basket, and you sitting on top of it, setting everything up. 

“Y/N!” The girls both screamed, Estelle letting go of Harry’s hand as they both ran towards you. 

You looked up at the sound of your name, eyes brightening at the little girls running. “My Princesses! Hi, my loves!” You opened your arms widely, inviting the twins into your arms— they practically collided into your arms, making you fall onto your back since you didn’t get the chance to stand up—and embracing them with a big hug. Laughs came out of all of your mouths as wide smiles permanently stayed on your faces. “Oh, I missed you two so much!” You kissed both of their cheeks, making them giggle. You stood up, helping the girls up and brushed their clothes off with your hand from the grass. Harry and Rory were in sight, and Harry put the little boy down, making Rory run towards you. “My sweetheart, oh, you’ve gotten so big.” You hugged Rory to your chest, placing your hand behind his head as your other arm wrapped around his small body. 

You were glad that Rory still had some memory of you, and didn’t shy away behind his father’s leg. You placed soft kisses on his cheeks, taking in his baby scent that you always loved. 

After Rory was starting to fuss in your arms, most likely due to feeling overwhelmed from the lack of space, you let go of him before standing up. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Harry greeted, offering a hug, which you gladly took. 

You rubbed his back. “Hi, Harry. I’m so glad I’m here with you all.” You pulled away, smiling at him. Harry’s heart pounded against his chest at the sight of you smiling up at him. His heart did a backflip at the sight of your gorgeous smile, trickling all the way down to his stomach where it triggered the butterflies to release from the net. 

“Please, we were all really excited to see you. So, thank you for agreeing.” His hand innocently ran down your arm, sending shivers down your spine. 

You turned around to look at the kids who were making themselves comfortable on the blanket. You and Harry joined them as you sat in between Estelle and Rory, and Harry sat in between Mira and Rory. 

“Okay, so I made some sandwiches. You all still like grilled cheese, right?” You hoped, and the twins nodded; you turned towards Rory. “What about you, sweet pea? Grilled cheese?” At the sound of cheese, Rory nodded his head and clapped his hands, making you smile. 

Harry was so lost in his mind and heart that he was simply so distracted in helping you out as you unwrapped the sandwiches from the foil, putting them on a paper plate. He was just so fond of watching you interact with his children so naturally, like there was no time that was wasted when you and Harry were apart. And he was especially happy that the kids still loved you just as much as they did when you two were together; and how they still kept talking about you despite the breakup. 

Aside from you and Harry, the kids had taken the breakup the hardest. From the knowledge they had based on what Harry and Laurie told them, they understood that their mommy and daddy couldn’t be together anymore due to adult reasons; it took them a while to adjust to that, but they eventually managed and figured it was better and more fun. But when Harry had to break the news on why they wouldn’t be seeing their ‘Pretty Fairy Second Mom’ anymore, they took it harder than expected. They simply looked at it as you didn’t want to see them anymore, which wasn’t the case at all, Harry explained. 

“Sometimes adults need to take some time apart, loves. That does not mean that Y/N doesn’t love you anymore because she does very much, I can tell you that. But it's good to have some time to yourself, especially in a relationship.” 

“But daddy, I thought you were gonna be together forever with Y/N,” Estelle spoke up, tears in her eyes. He was lucky that his kids loved you so much, and he never doubted that they weren’t going to. But his fear had come true when you two called it quits and he had to tell them the truth. 

“And maybe we will, but as for right now, it’s best to be apart. Sometimes being apart saves the relationship rather than letting it burn,” he told them honestly, which was the best as he could explain it. 

“D-Does Y/N still love you?” Mira asked softly. It wasn’t like Mira to be so soft spoken, which meant that the breakup had affected her deeply. 

Harry sighed, grabbing both of their small hands. “She does,” he replied for the sake of more tears coming out of their eyes—plus, he was taking your word for it back at the cafe. “And she also loves you all so much too,” he reminded them again. What he really wanted to say was that maybe one day you two will get back together, but he really didn’t want to get their hopes up. 

Looking back on his conversation from half a year ago, he was glad that he told them the truth on why you two broke up. He didn’t want to confuse his children even further, making them completely oblivious to the situation—he just wanted to be honest with them because he hoped you two would meet again and get back together at some point. 

“Harry, would you like one?” You asked, bringing Harry back out of his thoughts. He smiled, nodding, not trusting his voice to speak; and you gladly handed him a plate with a sandwich, pouring some chips onto the side—his favorite chips, you still remembered. 

“Thank you.” He smiled softly. The corners of your lips turned up as you bashfully looked at the picnic basket in front of you. You placed Rory’s plate in front of him as he seemed to have crawled to sit closer to you, and you cut out his sandwich into small pieces, along with cutting his grapes in half. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” He stopped you from what you were doing, ready to take Rory from your side as he didn’t want you to feel obligated to take care of him.

“Oh, if you don’t want me to, that’s fine. But I wouldn’t mind feeding him a bit.” 

“If you want to.” 

You gave him the sweetest grin, and Harry was lucky to be sitting down because his knees would give out on him if he were standing. “I want to.” He only nodded, a crimson color laid on his cheeks. 

Harry comfortably watched as you made conversation with the twins as you fed Rory. You always gave them your undivided attention; your expression always lit up everytime they talked about something they were passionate about or interested in, and it just made Harry fall even more with how you were always so supportive in what his kids loved. You were always uplifting them, never dragging their hopes and dreams down. 

After everyone was finished with their meals and had time to digest their food, the twins asked if they could go on the swings and Harry said yes. The tree that they were under was only a few feet away, so Harry had a clear view of his girls. 

“You’re, like, a magician.” Harry suddenly said, breaking the silence once the girls were safely on the swing. 

You chuckled. “How’s that?” 

“It’s like hiring a magician at a party—everyone is so excited to see what they do and see them in general—you’re like that; the girls and Rory were so excited to see you.” 

You playfully gasped, holding Rory to your chest. “You were excited to see me? Well, I was excited to see you!” You booped his nose, making Rory giggle. 

“Fairy!” He exclaimed, and you and Harry laughed. Rory was a quiet two-year-old, but he picked up on keywords that he repeatedly said. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You cut to the chase, skipping the small talk.

Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Nope. Not entirely sure if anyone wants to date a thirty-four-year-old with three kids.” 

You raised your brows in shock, and he knew that look you’re giving him very well—prepared to tease him; even though you weren’t that much younger than him either. “What? Do you think no one wants to date a hot dad? Harry, you’re peak-dilf, everyone wants to date you.” 

“And what about you? Do you wanna date me? A dilf?” He teased; a smirk that you knew all too well appeared on his face, making you want to kiss it off, which was what you used to do. 

Pursing your lips and cheeks heating up, you gave him an obvious look before you said, “Think you know the answer to that one, baby.” In all honesty, the pet name had slipped, and for a brief moment your eyes widened at the realization, but you brushed it off and continued with your confident and teasing attitude; and it worked quite well on Harry because he definitely heard what you used to call him loud and clear. It made his heart flutter as he missed you calling him that; he never wanted to hear that name come out of anyone else’s mouth because only yours would do it justice. 

Harry was left to ponder about your response before you changed the subject, talking to Rory. “Sweets, do you wanna go on the slide?” The little boy jumped up and down, pulling your arm as he had a big smile on his face. You looked at Harry, and he gave you a nod, telling you that he would stay put and watch your belongings. 

You and Rory walked hand in hand, or more like hand and finger, to the slide. It was an open purple slide with two sides, and it lasted about two seconds if you slid correctly and if the slide was slippery enough. You helped Rory step onto the playground as the dull metal steps were quite high for him to reach on his own before you guided him towards the slide. 

Sitting down at the top and on the edge of the slide, you carried Rory into your lap, hyping him up for what he had been waiting for. “Ready, sweets? Are you ready?” Your tone was pure excitement as you squeezed and tickled his belly. 

“Go, Y/N, go!” Directed Rory, and you scooted forward and held onto the sweet boy in your arms tightly as you two slid down the slide. Mouthfuls of squealing screams and giggles came from Rory’s mouth as he clapped his hands towards the end of the slide, causing you to cheer as well. 

And the proper dad that he was, Harry clicked the red button on the screen to stop recording you and Rory from the slide. He zoomed in, capturing the bright smiles placed on his sweet boy’s and the love of his life’s face, screenshotting the perfect frame. He didn’t think the day could have gone any better than this; it was quite the perfect day, he thought. 

When it was rounding two in the afternoon, Rory’s eyes were starting to droop, exhaustion taking over him from running around for almost an hour that his little body couldn’t keep up, so a nap was in his favor. He lazily looked up at you, reaching his arms up for you to carry him, which you happily held him. He settled his head on your shoulder, and it only took a few kisses and back rubs for him to be out like a light while the sun still shined in his face. 

You walked over to the blanket, figuring it was time to call it a day at the park; Harry and the twins were running around nearby on the bedded grass area playing tag. They retreated to the blanket once they saw you with Rory in your arms, breaths heavy from their run. 

“Oh, my sweet, sweet boy.” Harry sighed when he got to spot under the tree; you handed Rory to him, admiring the two boys cuddling as Harry pressed quiet and soft kisses to his son’s head. Since your lap was available, Estelle and Mira took the chance to finally be able to properly cuddle you since Rory was taking most of your attention. The girls took one leg each, and you wrapped your arms around their waist, kissing their shoulder. 

The five of you stayed put for a while, calming down under the breezy weather that had started to pick up until it got even colder was when Harry decided it was time to leave. Luckily the girls were still awake to help with cleaning up, and were rather helpful because Harry was trying his best with Rory situated on one side of his body. 

Once all of you were next to your cars, Harry placed Rory in his car seat as you were hugging the girls goodbye. You and Harry agreed that everyone was too tired to go out for some ice cream since all the twins wanted to do was lie down. Harry knew he didn’t want the day to end, even though it was still quite early, but the older he got, the tougher it was to keep up with his little children who just loved running around; a relaxing and peaceful night was calling him. 

“Hey.” Harry closed the passenger door before he rounded the car to meet you on the grass. “I know we talked about going for ice cream today, but it seemed like we’re all too tired, but I was wondering…” he paused for a moment, a bit of hesitancy in his voice. “Would you like to come over? Maybe…for dinner, or to have a glass or w-water?” He scratched the back of his neck, nerves getting the best of him. 

You smiled, thinking he was the absolute cutest when he was flustered. “Harry, I’d love to. Feels like I haven’t drank any water so I’m parched,” you teased. 

He breathed out a laugh. “Okay, uh, I’ll see you home.” He gave you another smile before walking away and inside of his car, completely unaware of his choice of words. 

Home. More specifically, Harry’s home. It was a place that made you feel safe, and if you’re being honest, it’s been too long since you’d had complete solace. 

Your mental pep-talk throughout the drive toward Harry’s had helped in some way. Keeping it simple without driving your mind into overthinking every single thought, you laid it all down as if you were planning and preparing a business proposal. 

You didn’t want to dive deep into what Harry’s invitation could entail—more like you didn’t want to get your hopes up on if you two were to get back together because the potential rejection you could face would absolutely crush you. Harry’s a kind and sweet guy, he’s simply inviting a friend over for a drink and dinner, if you could even call yourself that. Plus, it was still early to fully call it a day, and he planned for ice cream after the park, so he was fulfilling that promise of sweet dessert. 

Without realizing, you’d been sitting in your car for a solid five minutes, staring over your steering wheel as you were parked on the curb in front of Harry’s house. Harry’s car was already in the driveway, so they were just waiting on you. 

You walked towards the front door, and it swung open before you even got the chance to knock. 

“Hey, thought you’d change your mind when you weren’t getting out of the car,” Harry joked, although that thought really crossed his mind when he peeked out through the window and saw you still in your car. 

You chuckled nervously. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t.” You stepped inside his house, and a wave of nostalgia rushed through you as if you were at the beach and the harsh current knocked you over as you were trying to walk against the sandy wind. 

Everything still looked the same—the same since the night you left without another word to the kids, just a note to Harry telling you to meet at the shop. A pinch of guilt appeared in your face as you frowned, and Harry immediately took notice, but you waved it off as you slightly smiled, telling him that you two would talk later. He didn’t press any further, waiting until later or when you were ready. Instead, he asked if you wanted anything to drink, to which he already knew you’d go for a class of Cabernet, and luckily, he had some in stock—more like, he still had the untouched bottle for when you stayed over. 

The two of you leaned against the cold granite counter as music softly played on the speaker that was connected through Bluetooth on his phone. Conversations were light, but it wasn’t awkward in any sense. As a matter of fact, it felt just like old times when you would stay over his house, talking about each other’s day and simply enjoying the presence of one another. That’s what you think this was, you thought—enjoying the fact that Harry was in front of you after so many months and you were cherishing it until the next set of months went by. 

After a few conversations and sips of wine later, the time had gone by fairly fast, which always happened when you were with him, and it was nearing five. The kids had woken up from their nap at four and quietly settled in the living room—the twins on the couch in front of the television and Rory was on the padded mat playing with his toys, occasionally talking to his sisters. Harry asked if you would be okay watching them so he could make dinner, and you were close to reminding him that he didn’t need to ask to watch his kids, but then again, you had to remind yourself that things were a bit different now. So, you said that you didn’t mind and walked over to the sofa chair next to the couch and watched TV with the girls as well as play with Rory. 

Twenty-five minutes had gone by and Harry called everyone, announcing that dinner was ready. You all walked into the dining room, taking your seats. Your assigned seat was next to Rory’s chair, which was in between you and Harry; the girls were sitting across from you. Once everyone took several bites of Harry’s dinner--a quick fettuccine alfredo--the chatter was back. You enthusiastically listened to the girls and Rory talk; it made Harry smile, loving how natural everything felt. 

Estelle tapped Harry’s shoulder, making him turn towards her with a smile on his face. “What is it, sunshine?” She got off her chair, leaning over to whisper something into his ear and he smiled, turning back to his family who was curious as to what Estelle had said. “Go ahead and ask her, love.” 

You put down your fork and placed your arms on the table. “What’s up, Princess?” 

“Uh, c-can we go to that place?” 

“What place is that?” You asked curiously. 

“That place where you told Daddy you loved him,” she responded quite bashfully. Your mouth was slightly open, not expecting her to say what she did. Looking over at Harry, he simply had a soft smile on his face with his brows raised, shrugging his shoulders.

Did you want to go back there? The answer was a simple yes. There wasn’t any excuse that you could possibly make up on the spot as to why you couldn’t go there, and it wasn’t necessarily a bad place whenever you thought about it. In fact, you really missed going over there and you would be lying if you said that you didn’t think about that place often. 

Your head turned towards Estelle. “Sure, why not. How about we go tomorrow?” You asked everyone, and they all had smiles on their faces. You looked at Harry, directly asking him for permission. “Is that okay?” His elbow was resting against the arm of the brown chair, fingers placed under his lips as he slightly puckered his soft and pink lips; without looking under the table, you knew his legs were crossed. Harry smiled, nodding his head, and everyone cheered. 

The rest of the time everyone was sitting at the dinner table, you all talked about plans for tomorrow, and everyone was really excited. Once it was almost eight, Harry realized that it was almost their bedtime, so he hurried them up the stairs to get ready for bed before saying goodnight to you, getting in as many hugs and kisses as they could get. 

Harry was upstairs, changing Rory and putting him to bed before he walked down and found you in the kitchen washing dishes. He slipped past you, placing his hand along your lower back briefly before he grabbed the dish rag. The action sent a chill down your spine and you immediately missed his hands on you. 

“The kids seem really excited about tomorrow.” Harry broke the silence, glancing over at you as you continued to wash the dishes. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m really excited too.” 

Harry noticed the slight shortness, and he thought it may be because you were tired. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You turned off the water and faced him, crossing your arms as he did the same. 

“Do the kids hate me?” The corner of his lips turned up before he started laughing, clutching his stomach. If it were any other time, you would obsess over his laugh; it was music to your ears, the highlight of your day, and the sun when it’s bright out. You softly slapped his arm. “Harry! I’m being serious!” 

“Darling, you’re joking, right?” Your heart briefly fluttered at his nickname for you. “Those kids love you!” He noticed your change of attitude and that you’d been thinking about this for a while and beating yourself up over it. 

“It’s just…I don’t want them to think that we broke up and I forgot about them. I mean I understand if they see it that way because I left without saying another word for six months--didn’t even get to say goodbye to them and have a proper talk. I just don’t want them to hate me.” You looked down at your feet as you played with the thin silver band on your middle finger.  

Harry’s seen you in work mode, and it reeks confidence and power. You don’t need much reassurance during work unless it’s when your employees tell you that progress is moving along. But this was completely different; you needed all the reassurance that you could get to get it through your head that the kids that you’d come to love--from the moment you met them--don’t hate you. And Harry didn’t mind telling you over and over again. 

“They were just that we split up, that’s all. But they quickly understood why.” 

“What’d you tell them?” You asked curiously. 

“The truth--that sometimes it’s better to be apart for a while rather than drive ourselves crazy. Told them that when the time is right, then maybe we’ll get back together.” The look in his eyes was so comforting that you immediately fell into them. Harry was always the best with giving you that extra reassurance that you and his kids need. 

You felt the extra beat in your chest that pumped so harshly against your chest, but it was surrounded by butterflies, making it flutter throughout your body. As you looked so deeply into Harry’s beautiful green eyes, you realized one of two things; the first thing was that you never wanted to look so deeply into another person’s eyes unless it was Harry’s; and the second thing was that you were incredibly and overwhelmingly still in love with this man and his three children, and there hadn’t been a day that gone by where you weren’t. 

Taking a deep breath, itches were crawling up your skin, begging you to say something. “D-Do you think it’s time?” Your voice asked shyly. 

Harry was taken back by your question as he raised his brows. He couldn’t deny the nerves that he felt whenever he was around you, but your question seemed to have increased his nervousness. 

“We’ve been separated for what feels like a long time now.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he recouped his thoughts to say the right words. “I think-”

“Daddy?” Yours and Harry’s head whipped towards the staircase, finding Estelle at the bottom of it with groggy eyes. 

Harry walked towards his sunshine. “What is it, my love?” He kneeled down onto the bottom step, matching her height. Estelle told him that she couldn’t sleep, and that she’s been tossing and turning for a while, so Harry told her that he would lay with her until she fell asleep and carried her to her bedroom. He looked back at you as he was walking up the steps, and you gave him a soft smile, letting him know that it was completely okay. 

You finished tidying up the kitchen, wiping down the counters and cleaning the dining table until you realized that you needed to get ready for tomorrow’s adventure. 

Once Harry came down the stairs, he found you sitting on the edge of the armchair with your purse on your shoulder; you looked up as he walked up to you. 

“I’m gonna head out.” 

Harry’s slightly frowned. “Oh, you can stay the night if you want to.” 

“No, it’s okay, thanks.” You really did want to stay the night, but you didn’t have a change of clothes for tomorrow. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning.” He nodded, walking you to the door, opening it for you. 

You stepped out on his doorstep, turning around as you wrapped your arm around his waist, tiptoeing to plant a kiss to his cheek. The slightest bit of touch from your lips sent Harry’s skin on fire, warming up to the affection. The touch was sent away too quickly as you let go of him completely, giving him one last smile before walking to your car and waving at him as you drove away. 

Harry closed the door, the palm of his hand cupped the cheek that you kissed and he sighed as if he was shot with Cupid’s love-arrow, and he wouldn’t mind it if it meant he would feel your affection every single day. 

You arrived at the Styles household at ten in the morning with a tote-full of snacks and water, knowing the kids would get hungry from all the walking. You got there forty-five minutes earlier than planned, knowing that the Styles family wouldn’t be out the door right on time because Harry has three kids, two of them who bicker and complain from time to time—especially when they’re sleepy—and a two-year-old who was starting to run away from everything. So, you figured Harry would appreciate your help. 

When Harry saw you standing on his doorstep, he let out a sigh of relief. He was still in his striped pajamas pants and a white t-shirt, holding a small pair of olive green pants. You walked in and saw Rory running around half naked, despite it being early in the morning. You told Harry that he could shower and get ready for the day, and to leave it to you because you’ll handle it—plus, you both knew that the kids often listened to you more than their own dad. He smiled appreciatively, kissing your head briefly before walking up the stairs and getting ready. 

Once Rory saw you, he stopped running around the house and instead, ran towards you and into your arms. You carried him up the stairs and to his room to get some clothes on him, and luckily, Harry was able to bathe him before you showed up. You gave him his favorite toy to fumble with before you walked into Mira's room, setting Rory on her twin bed before helping her get ready. You left Rory in Mira’s room and went to Estelle’s bedroom, doing the same. 

By the time Harry walked downstairs, you and the three kids were sitting on the couch, eating a banana. He smiled, slowing his steps as he was amazed at the quietness and stillness in the house, but then again, he wasn’t that amazed because he knew you’d come in and get things in order. 

Harry’s home was a two minute walk to the train station, and everyone decided to take the train since it was what you and Harry did when you two were dating, and the kids really wanted to walk through the entire path of their father’s love story. 

Luckily, there weren’t that many people on the train—it was practically empty—so they didn’t have to rush to get a spot for the kids. Rory sat in the middle of his sisters as they all smiled brightly towards Harry’s phone that was capturing the adorable children for a sweet memory sake. You and Harry were standing, making sure neither of the kids fell over if the train made a halting stop. You held onto the metal bar above you, Harry held the bar that was mounted into the floor, and you both watched the kids interact with one another—counting on their fingers, booping one another’s noses, and laughing; it was every parent’s dream. 

Without noticing, Harry moved closer to you, placing his hand directly next to yours; the side of your hand touched his, and you looked at him with wide eyes while your heart fluttered. You were hip to hip, and you saw the smirk he had on his face while occasionally glancing over at you. You couldn’t help the heat that rose onto your cheeks because it felt like old times when you two used to ride the train together and it would get too packed to where you had to stand up; he would always face you as your hands touched—sometimes he would even intertwine your fingers together while you two held the bar as you were one—and he would hover over you, giving you plentiful kisses like the true romantic that he was. 

The train ride took about 30 minutes and it was a two minute walk to the place that gave you so many happy memories and nostalgia—International Rose Test Garden was where the memories of you and Harry were stored. 

You had the girls on either side of you, holding their hands; and Harry carried Rory since he was likely to run around and Harry didn’t want to risk his safety. 

The sun was bright—beautiful for a day in the garden as the roses and flowers bloomed ever so widely. All of you walked the rows and rows of flowers, occasionally taking pictures in front of the rose bushes.

Remembering all the times you and Harry were hand in hand, laughing until your stomachs were sore, like you did an intense ab workout, and there were tears resting in the outer corner of your eyes. All the memories that were swirling around in your head made you come to the conclusion to one thing: you never want to be without Harry and his kids ever again. 

You don’t know how it took you so long to realize this, maybe it was seeing them for the first time in six months that you realized that you had it great—a small family that accepted you and loved you for who you were, and you loved them just the same. 

Harry walked beside you, the kids skipping and playing around in the grass in front of you two. Confidently, you slipped your hand into Harry’s ringed hand, immediately intertwining your fingers together as if your hand knew what it was missing. Harry briefly looked down before looking at you. He smiled, and turned his head back towards the kids, not making a big deal of it as his warm hand accepted the coldness of yours. 

You gently tugged against his arm, pulling him back as he came face to face with you; a quiet gasp came out of his mouth when doing so. You looked up at him with bright eyes, and Harry was taken back to a year and a half ago where you, coincidentally, were in this same spot on the very green patch of grass. 

“Harry…” you breathed out, looking down at your feet nervously. He made the bold move to step closer to you, chests almost touching. Harry lifted your chin up with his fingers, locking eyes with you so intently that you practically lost your breath. 

“What is it?” He whispered. 

Taking a deep breath, you said, “I-I realized something.” 

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

Glancing over at the kids, they were giving you big smiles and thumbs up for reassurance, and your heart swooned at their support and love they provided you to finally get back together with their father, even if you weren’t their biological mother. 

You looked back at Harry, who was waiting patiently. “I love you. I still do and never stopped.” Harry felt like he stopped breathing at that moment. “You make me so happy—you and the kids, and I don’t want to be without you all anymore. I-I don’t like how it’s only taken me this much time to tell you this, but it felt like the perfect time since this was the place where I first told you I loved you.” 

Harry smiled, taking your hands into his. His thumbs smoothed your skin on the back of your hand before he brought them up to his lips and kissed them so delicately. The action made you smile softly before your mind had switched it to thinking that it was affection before the rejection. 

But then he opened his mouth to speak such beautiful words that you had been aching to hear during the breakup. 

“You’re my everything. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you because you. You’re part of my source of happiness, and life didn’t feel the same without you—the kids could agree with me on that.” He chuckled, looking at them to find them holding hands and jumping around in circles. “But I know that we separated for the better only for us to come back stronger than ever, and I’m never gonna let go of you again, okay?” 

Tears pricked your eyes before they streamed down your cheeks. Your heart felt like it was pounding harder than ever, but it was filled with so much love from and for this man in front of you. 

Harry wiped away your tears, leaning in to kiss your forehead, down to your eyelids as he kissed your tears away. He pulled away and you opened your eyes, giving each other a relieved and happy smile. 

“I love you,” he said, and he swore he saw the brightest smile he’s ever seen—brighter than the sun. “Always have and always will.” 

“And I love you. C-Can you kiss me, please?” 

Harry grinned. “It would be an honor.” 

Placing his palms on the side of your face, he leaned his forehead against yours. Your hands were wrapped around his wrists, rubbing his skin softly. With a smile, he kissed you with such softness and passion that the flowers bloomed largely and the sun shined ever so brightly. The kids cheered and clapped, making bystanders think that you’d just gotten engaged, but you both knew that would be the next step. Your stomach was in knots, butterflies surrounding your body as he captured your lips with his. Hugging Harry’s waist, you pulled him closer and wrapped your arms around him, and he kissed you harder, effortlessly moving his lips in sync with yours as if he was a pro on kissing you, which he was. 

Harry pulled away first, giving you several pecks before opening his eyes. “God, I missed doing that. Missed you so much, darling.” 

“I missed you too, baby.” You were high on happiness, high on love. “I’m sorry it took us this long.” A slight frown appeared on your face, but Harry kissed it away. 

“Hey, hey. None of that. I would’ve loved you until the end of time. I don’t care how long it took, you’re my forever,” he vowed, not planning to break that promise. 

Missing his lips on yours, you leaned up to kiss him again while your arms were wrapped around his neck and his were around your waist, holding you tightly as if he was afraid you’d run off. 

Suddenly, you started giggling into the kiss, making Harry smile before he pulled away. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked. You started thinking about the conversation from the park when you asked him if he was seeing someone. 

You curled in your lips before you said, “You’re a literal dilf, and I’m so in love with you.” 

please tell me all of your thoughts, feelings, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3

[dominimoonbeam]

All The Things They Didn’t Know Part 3

I already have an update to the Davey/Darlin fic!

I warned everyone that I’m really bad at slow burning, right? Because things are getting steamy... I bumped the rating up to Explicit on ao3 and posted it there. But I’m also posting it here below!

Hope you enjoy it and a huge thank you to everyone that read the previous parts and left feedback! It’s so appreciated and so exciting to share a story!

warnings: explicit. scars.

--

It had been three months. THREE! And Darlin was losing their mind.

They went on runs together almost every day, assuming their schedules allowed for it. David did the cooking and Darlin did the clean-up.

They had started off on opposite sides of the couch and inched closer and closer. Every night Darlin ended up either with their legs tossed over his lap or their back wedged into his side while they played games or watched shows. More than once he’d put his arm over their shoulders or his hand on their leg.

Darlin couldn’t remember ever flirting so hard in all their life. Normally, they went along with other people flirting in their direction or they had light flirty friendships. This was something else. This was starting to get frustrating. Sometimes Darlin doubted what they’d thought was interest on his part, maybe they’d just imagined it? Maybe they’d blown it out of proportion? Maybe he was just being friendly? But then Darlin would shamelessly walk around the apartment in almost nothing and feel his eyes following them the whole time, running over their body and letting out deep sighs when Darlin bent over.

He was interested. But he wasn’t making a move. Maybe he was attracted to them but not interested in actually dealing with having fooled around with them? Darlin, admittedly, came with a lot of baggage. Which was somewhat hilarious considering how little literal baggage they’d come with. There were plenty of reasons they could think up for why David Shaw wouldn’t want to be with them, even if he might want to fuck them.

So, Darlin had decided to let up on the teasing. It had been fun. Incredibly fun. But now that it was proving to go nowhere, and inspiring them to think about why that was, it was bringing back all those old heartaches.

They were friends now. That was more than enough. That was worth everything. Darlin was the happiest they’d been in a long time, and they hadn’t even killed Quinn yet.

After a long run, they’d come home, taken turns showering, and gone to bed.

It was all so familiar and comfortable, but when they closed their eyes to sleep, a part of their mind—that treacherous asshole part—wondered how long it could last before Quinn showed up. How long before he came back to finish them off? How long before he ruined them again?

- 

 David woke with a start, lip curled in a snarl and gaze slicing across his dark bedroom. Nothing. No one. What the fuck had woken him up.

He sat up and reached for his phone when he heard it, a low whine.

He got out of bed and went straight for the hall, not bothering with lights. He was a split second from shifting. But there was no one in the halls, no one in his apartment that shouldn’t be there.

But they were still whimpering, setting all his nerves on fire.

He didn’t knock. A part of his brain warned that he should knock but he just couldn’t. They were making that sound like they were in pain, like they were scared, and if he didn’t get eyes on them right this fucking second he was going to shift and rip the apartment apart looking for whatever was hurting them.

There was no one and nothing else in their bedroom but Darlin asleep on the mattress. No covers. No pants either. Just naked legs kicking at nothing and a tank top riding up their stomach. They jerked and strained like they were pinned down, lips pulled in a snarl but letting loose a thin whine instead of a snarl, like they were injured. They were breathing fast too.

“Darlin,” David snapped. It sounded harsh but the word just burst out of him as he crossed the room.

Darlin didn’t wake, gasping for air and clawing at their neck now. He grabbed their wrist and pulled it from their skin before they could hurt themselves, kneeling on the bed next to them. Darlin struggled harder, trying to get away now. Shit.

“Wake up,” David said, loud but without any bite. There was no enemy here. He couldn’t let go of their wrists now without risk of them hitting themselves again. His thumbs rolled circles against their skin. He didn’t want to pin them to the bed. They were scared. He collected their arms together and held them to his chest instead, sitting them up with him. “Darlin, wake up. It’s a nightmare. Open your eyes.”

Darlin growled and snapped and he was sure they would shift, but instead their eyelids flung open and they dragged fast, confused breaths. He hadn’t realized that he’d pulled them almost into his lap until they were awake and blinking at him, tears in their eyes.

There was so much naked fear on their face that David knew he’d seen something they hadn’t been ready to show anyone. But he couldn’t imagine just ignoring those whimpers. He let go of their wrists and held his hands open and to the sides so that they could see he meant them no harm. “You were having a nightmare.”

Darlin nodded tightly, still working on evening out their breathing, looking around the room fast as if they weren’t sure where they were. And then they nodded again, their exhale stuttering. They scrubbed a hand over their face and looked down. “I’m sorry.”

David shook his head, resisting the urge to touch them, despite all the desire to push their hair back from their face, or to thumb away the stray tears they hadn’t realized they’d shed. “Don’t have to apologize for shit you can’t control, Darlin.”

Darlin took another deep breath and nodded, sighing and flopping back onto the bed. One of their legs was still bent at the knee and leaned into his thigh and hip, the only thing connecting them. “Thanks for… For waking me up. Sometimes even when I know it’s a dream it’s like… I can’t convince the rest of me of it, you know?”

David nodded. He did know. He dropped his hands to his sides. He should get off the bed. He should leave. “Your nightmares… It’s Quinn?”

Darlin huffed something like an angry laugh and nodded, tapping their temple. “He’s in there now. The narcist would be thrilled if he found out.”

David frowned. As much as he hated the idea of Quinn tormenting their sleep, he hated the ever-present threat of him still interacting with their life. He knew Darlin worried about it—thought about it—a lot. Quinn would eventually have to be dealt with. He would eventually come back to Dahlia. “He’s not going to find out and someday he won’t even be in there anymore.”

Darlin looked up at him, stilling, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “Thank you,” they said, voice low but the room so breathlessly quiet that he could almost make out the pounding of their heart. “For…Letting me come home.”

David winced and shook his head. “You were always welcome home. If I’d made you feel that sooner, none of this would have happened.”

Surprise lit Darlin’s face, first surprised and then shocked. “You really think that…”

“Of course.”

“David…” They sat up, so close to him again, and shook their head. “It’s not your fault I left.”

David wasn’t so sure about that. If he had reached out to them when they were younger. If he had tried hard to include them in his circle of friends—in the pack.

“Shit happens,” Darlin said, touching his hand. When he looked at them, they chanced a smile and shrugged. “We were kids. You couldn’t have known I’d run off, start hanging out with a psychotic vampire, and then make enemies with said vampire.”

They tried to make a joke out of it. He looked at the hand they had over his and the fine little scars on their knuckles from a rough life. “You didn’t know he was a monster when you started hanging out with him, and you did what you could to stop him when you realized.”

Darlin shrugged, starting to retract their hand from his. He caught it, holding on a second longer and running his thumb across their knuckles, across those scars. They didn’t feel like anything but he memorized them.

“Stay?” Darlin asked.

David’s gaze snapped to theirs, surprised. “What?”

Darlin looked away but scooted over on the bed. “Just for a while?” they sounded embarrassed and growing unsure, but obviously not unsure about him—just about his reaction to the request.

David laid down beside them, still holding on to their hand. He’d let them take it back at the slightest tug, but they curled fingers around his. “Kick me out whenever you want,” he mumbled, cheek settling on one of their pillows.

Darlin sighed and he thought he heard a smile on their lips. “Kick me if I crowd you,” Darlin said, already sounded half-asleep again.

 -

 Darlin woke up slowly, in their bed, in David’s apartment, safe.

And then they remembered the nightmare last night and waking up with David there in the room, on the bed, telling them it was okay.

And then they remembered asking him to stay and he did.

Their eyes flicked open. They were on their side, almost on their chest, and David was pressed to their back. They were spooning. There was no pretending they weren’t. Darlin was backed up into him and pressed tight, his arm curled around their chest, holding them against him. His face was in the back of their hair, his lips almost touching their neck. It was so comfortable and intimate that they couldn’t stop their pulse from rising and their mind from racing. And then he shifted, pressed somehow closer in his sleep, and his erection pushed against their ass.

Electricity shivered through their skin, making their breath catch in their chest. That moment of surprise, of tension and sharp inhale, was all it took to have David waking up. Darlin felt it in how his arm around them tightened and then loosened, his body tensing as he realized where he was and that he was spooning them. And then he realized he was hard and pressed flush against their body. His breath rumbled in his chest and he started to pull his hips back, shifting away. In seconds he would apologize and roll off the bed and leave and they would probably never talk about it again. Just like they never talked about how Darlin had been sitting right next to him for the last few weeks, had been leaning against him in the kitchen, and brushing against him on their runs. Just like they never talked about how little clothing Darlin wore when it was just the two of them in the apartment, or that time they walked from the bathroom back to their room after a shower wearing absolutely nothing. They’d felt him watching and they’d heard him groan, but he hadn’t said a word.

Darlin grabbed the arm he had around their chest before he could unravel from them and pressed their hips back against him.

David’s breath quickened, his mouth so close to their skin that they could feel it on their neck. “You’re doing this on purpose?” he asked, voice low.

Darlin squirmed, their ass nestling against his crotch, their breath hitching when they rubbed against his erection again. They almost whined. “Yes.”

David groaned. “You’ve been teasing me this whole time?”

Darlin bit their lip. Was he going to be mad? Did they fucking care as long as he stayed pressed against them? He was big. He was big and he was hard for them. For them. Shit. They rolled their hips back against him. “Yeah.”

David growled and it shuddered through Darlin’s back. His breath rolled against their neck. “Thank god,” he ground out before his mouth latched onto their throat and his body pushed hard into theirs, rolling them onto their stomach with him on top, grinding them into the bed. His hands were on them, grabbing at their hip to keep them in just the right spot while his other slid up under their shirt to explore their side.

He licked up the side of their throat to their ear, breathing hard and rocking his hips against their ass, rubbing his heavy cock against them. “You’ve been driving me crazy, you shit,” he growled low against their skin and Darlin shivered. They squirmed under him, trapped and pinned. They usually hated being under anyone, hated being pinned down, but this felt different. This felt…safe. “What do you want?” his voice shuddered through their skin. He licked their neck, sucked and dragged teeth, but didn’t bite. Darlin didn’t know if that was because he thought they would freak or because he didn’t want to. They could understand. Their skin was a mess and—their thoughts blanked out when he latched onto their earlobe and growled.

“Oh fuck,” Darlin groaned, squirming, whining.

“Answer me, beautiful,” he demanded.

Darlin shivered, either at the command or the word. No one called them that. “Wh-What? What question, asshole?”

He smiled against their neck, opening his mouth, pressing teeth against skin but still not biting, like he could only barely resist the need to. “What do you want?”

Oh. That. “You,” they blurted out. Something deep in their heart cringed from being that open. It was too much, too exposing, too dangerous. But it was also too true. “I want you.”

He stopped licking, stopped rocking his hips against their ass. He stopped.

Darlin flinched, afraid they’d fucked this up.

He lifted up off of them.

Yeah. Yeah, they’d fucked this up. It was probably supposed to be something casual. That made more sense. Maybe they could play it off like they meant his body? His cock? Fuck, they could do that. They could pretend if it meant keeping him close.

And then his hands were on them again, flipping them over onto their back on the mattress.

David had a knee on either side of their thighs, over them on all fours, his hair a mess and his pupils blown. He did not look casual at all. “Say it again?”

Darlin shuddered, touching his bare waist in blind search of contact. His eyes were boring into them, waiting. “I want you,” they admitted again, pulse high. They had been beaten before, naked after shifting and fighting, bleeding out and broken, and felt less exposed than they did right then. But David stared back, so impossibly steady. They’d never stood a chance of lying or hiding.

His head dipped, his mouth so close to theirs and their neck craning to bring them closer, to offer. “Take me?” he asked it, rather than commanded it and it sent a jolt through Darlin.

“Fuck,” Darlin gasped before finally letting go of any restraint or fear of rejection. To hell with it. They were over the edge of the cliff now. They reached up, hand curling around the back of his neck and dragging him down, crushing his mouths together. He opened for them and they delved their tongue in.

Bucking their hip to the side, Darlin rolled them, straddling his hips and never breaking the kiss.

- 

 David growled even when he let them flip him onto his back, but Darlin just smiled into the kiss, biting his bottom lip. They were trouble and he loved it. It meant they weren’t afraid of him. He settled his hands on their thighs, squeezing. They squirmed down against him, rubbing their ass on his erection again. Fuck. At this rate he was going to be making a mess in his fucking shorts.

His mind raced with options and ideas and all the things he wanted to do. But restraint kept him in place, kissing them back and wondering if maybe he should just let this play out. It was fast. He didn’t usually sleep with people the first time he kissed them, but he also didn’t usually grind on someone before he kissed them either.

He kept thinking about the way they’d said it. That they wanted him. Him. Not just sex, but him. They’d looked so exposed, like they were ready to have their heart broken. He was never going to break that heart.

Darlin gasped for air, sliding back on his thighs, touching his hips and hesitating, shaking. He watched, waiting, wondering if this was where the brakes would be pulled. If they wanted to stop, it would stop, even if he was rock hard and aching for more. “Can I… shit… Can I touch you?” they asked, voice low was want and fingers curling and uncurling into the elastic bands of his shorts and underwear.

David groaned, hips flexing forward. “Yes.”

Darlin bit into their bottom lip and swallowed at another sound that rattled up in their chest. They tugged his clothes down his thighs and kicked them off, completely naked under them. “Fuck,” Darlin gasped at the sight of him and it was insanely gratifying. Their hands slid along his hips and down his thighs to where their own, still sitting on him in nothing but underwear and a tank top. Their gaze flicked between his cock and his face, always checking his reaction. Did they think he’d suddenly change his mind? Or did they want to see his face when their hands glided slowly up his thighs again, closer and closer. He groaned low when they ran a palm over him, base to tip, unhurried. Were they teasing again or just enjoying the journey?

He didn’t know them well enough for this and it made everything layered with worry and want and excitement. Someday they would know exactly how each other liked things and be able to tell what the other was up to at a glance, but not yet.

Darlin watched him again when they wrapped their fingers around him and stroked, sliding farther down his legs, leaning down to experimentally lick his head.

Someday he would know that Darlin just liked to watch his reactions—that they thrilled at the sight of him unraveling—but tonight the idea that they were watching for queues nagged at his brain. He liked being in control and being pushy but he couldn’t stand the idea of someone doing anything for him because they thought they had to.

He caught their jaw with a growl, fighting all the instincts that desperately wanted to watch that beautiful mouth wrap around his cock. Darlin looked surprised but he pulled them up and leaned down, kissing them hard and pulling them back up into his lap. He could feel their excitement. He pushed their shirt up and off, wanting skin to skin.

His hands ran over their sides, his hips rolling under theirs, grinding them together. Darlin bit back another cry of pleasure, rubbing down against him, riding him with only the thin fabric of their underwear between them. It was already too much. They were too close. He kissed them hard when he realized they were biting so hard at their own lip to keep down their sounds that they had split open that old scar there. He tasted their blood in that kiss and unleashed their moans, swallowing them up to have them collide with his own in his chest, tangling into a tumble of growls as they both came, making a perfect mess of themselves.

They slowed and stopped, Darlin in his lap and both of them panting for air. His thumb brushed the curve of another bite scar low on their abdomen. He’d seen Darlin walking around the apartment in little to nothing, but this was the first time he’d seen them up close since that night at the clinic and they had been a mess then.

He studied too long because Darlin leaned back. They huffed a laugh, one of those ones that wasn’t funny at all but willing to pretend it was. They arched back, grabbing at their shirt tossed aside and David realized instantly that they’d misunderstood. They meant to put the shirt back on and cover up the marks, like they’d somehow ruined the mood. He growled and rolled them, catching the hand with the shirt and holding it to the side, to the bed. He looked down at them. “No,” he ground low and they stared up at him. “Your body is beautiful. I might kill every fucker that ever left a mark on it, but the marks themselves are proof that you’re strong—that you survived, that you threw yourself into fights and came out the other side. I was just looking. I was just memorizing you.”

Darlin trembled under him. “Why?”

David’s breath caught. “You know why.” How could they not? His other hand brought fingertips to the side of their neck, trailing over scars from behind their ear all the way down to their shoulder. He wanted to put his teeth to that skin too. He wanted to hunt down everyone else that ever had and had dared to leave a scar. He wanted to press a mark there, one made in pleasure and love just between them. One that would fade and be remade the same again and again, like commitment renewed.

Darlin looked away first, eyes shining in the dark with tears they fought not to let fall.

They would get there someday. They had time.

“Shower?” David asked, offering them a change of topic. Darlin nodded and David got up but didn’t lose contact with them. He pulled them to their feet, tugging them out of the room and through the dark morning apartment to the bathroom.

[sezja]

Previously: first, kiss, final, numb, broken, wings, melody, rules, chocolate, nostalgia, heartbeat, stranger, confusion, bitter, afterlife, daybreak, audience, endless, fireworks, hopeful, birthday, tomorrow, oppression, agony, return, protection, boxes, hope, preparation, beautiful, underneath, hide, diary, unforeseen, conditional, gone, clear, heartache, wired, foolish, words, study

One-Word Prompts: #45 - love

"Well, this is a surprise." Guydelot paces around the new bed with ill-concealed amusement, taking in the much-improved scale of it: a far better fit than the one it replaced. Sanson tries to gauge the man's reaction; he'd not discussed the decision to get a larger bed before acting on it - afraid to lose his nerve, perhaps... or afraid Guydelot might be spooked by the show of commitment.

For that's what this is, in the end, is it not? A commitment. A declaration.

One seldom buys new furniture for the sake of a casual bedmate, after all.

"I was growing concerned with how often you complained of neck and back pain in the morning," he says, hazarding a smile. "I hoped you might appreciate more room to stretch out."

It wins him a grin, and he relaxes. "I'll have to hold on tight to you, though," Guydelot warns him, playful. "Lots of room in this bed; wouldn't want you to get lost."

You like it, then, he doesn't say, rolling his eyes and walking away to prepare dinner. You like what it represents. He hadn't dared assume, but he cannot fathom that the implications of this purchase have been lost on Guydelot; the bard is far more subtle than anyone else gives him credit for - more subtle than Sanson himself gave him credit for, when first they met. It's an acknowledgment that what they have will continue - at least long enough to warrant a new bed.

Guydelot is not the first Elezen man Sanson has fallen for, nor even the first he's taken to bed - but he is the first for whom Sanson felt the need to make this adjustment, this clear step toward permanence.

What is the difference, he wonders? He never enters relationships presuming they will fall to pieces, no, not even this one, unlikely and unlooked-for as it was; he does little half-hearted, and love least of all.

He thinks as he cooks, idly turning the question over in his head, as though examining it from some other angle will reveal some hidden facet he'd not considered.

He hears the footsteps behind him, feels Guydelot's arms slide around his waist, feels the man's chin rest against the top of his head. Sanson allows himself a moment's contented pleasure, letting his eyes drift momentarily closed, then open again. "Did you need something?"

"It's a big kitchen, too," Guydelot replies, unusually quiet. "Wouldn't want you to get lost, eh?"

[oneyeartowrite]

Broken Promise/Memory Loop part 5

It’s been a while, but I’m back with another chapter. It’s a John and Virgil one. EEEK! Bit of an unusual pairing for me, Scott and John hurt and comfort are my absolute favourites, but I thought I’d give Virgil and John a scene together. It’s a shame they didn’t get more interactions in the series, I always felt Virgil was harsh on John in the Slingshot episode, and made me sad. That’s a one watch ep for me. Not a fan of John feeling guilty and getting told off for it, but meh, maybe I’m just over sensitive when it comes to poor Johnny </3

Anyway, I’m rambling! To the Fic----->

The spike of adrenaline subsided, and the loss bought back the droning pain in John’s skull. The constant hum against his nerves served as a warning for things to come. The dark-haired Tracy with the big brown eyes continued to smile at him while they lay sprawled on the ground, but something must have given John’s rising panic away.

He was supposed to get thunderbird two and bring it back to base, not leap out of the craft to save one of the Tracy brothers. John gasped as he stumbled to his feet. He looked out over the ocean, squinting to see the green thunderbird disappearing into the distance. 

“Hey…” The warm voice brought out a snarl on his face. He didn’t understand why the man's comforting tone did things to his insides. It made his heart ache and his stomach squirm, and he backed off before a hand could grab at his shoulder. 

“Easy, John, deep breathes.”

He was the reason John couldn’t suck a full breath into his lungs. He’d gone against his orders to save this man but couldn’t even remember his name.

“My name is Virgil.”

Apparently, the dark-haired Tracy was a mind reader. John flashed him a cautious glance, but it hurt his chest to look at him for too long.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” John said.

“Done what? Saved me?”

“Yes.” John scrubbed at his face. “I mean no. I don’t know.” He looked to the horizon. “She’s gone.”

“There are systems in place. When she runs out of fuel, she’ll automatically look for the closet place to land.”

John felt like he knew that, but didn’t know why, but still, it wasn’t the reason he was hyperventilating. He was supposed to bring the thunderbird to the hood. He’d failed, which meant he would get his brain repeatedly scrambled, and grow delirious with pain. The hood would sneer down at him as he withered and spluttered and begged for mercy. Again.

Vomit attempted to rise up the back of his throat, but he kept it at bay, moving away from Virgil.

The pain, the humiliation, the vomit and the blood were all worth it to save Virgil. Somewhere deep inside, John knew that, but at the same time, he feared the inevitable punishment for his traitorous actions.

“Are you hurt?” Virgil asked.

Every step he took towards John, John took a step back. He didn’t make eye contact with Virgil, but he heard him sigh and felt the waves of frustration coming off him. 

“I can see you’re hurt,” Virgil said. “Your arm.”

Now Virgil had drawn attention to it, John felt the sting in his forearm. A deep gash dripped blood onto the floor. He clasped his other hand around it, keeping the skin together.

“Don’t do that,” Virgil said. “You’ll get dirt in the wound. We need to wash it.”

John shook his head. “It’s fine.”

They’d deal with the injury back at the base like all the others John had obtained on missions. 

“I wish you lot would let me do my job, not tell me you’re fine all the time when you’re clearly not.”

“You lot?”

Virgil hummed. John sensed him approaching but didn’t back away. “Scott, Gordon, Alan. Even Brains sometimes is a tricky patient.”

The names plucked at his brain, pulling a different emotion into his chest. They all ended in heartache though, a deep endless heartache he’d attached to any mention of the Tracy’s. The hood hated them, but that wasn’t the emotion that assaulted John’s senses whenever their names were spat in his direction.

“Scott gets hurt the most, but it’s you that worries me more, always high above, so independent, and stubborn when it comes to your own safety. I wish for once you’d tell me something was up, rather than waiting until you’re unconscious on the floor. Ask for my help, that’s all I want, for you to ask for my help when you know you’re in trouble.”

There was no mistaking the barbs in Virgil’s voice. The repressed anger. John frowned at his feet.

“Do you not like me?”

“What?” Virgil pulled John back by his shoulder and spun him around. John looked at his face. There was anger there too, just a flicker of it amongst the shock. 

“Of course I do, I just worry that's all. I love you. We all do. You’re our brother.”

John winced at that. He hated when they called him their brother. It wasn’t true. Even if it had been once, there was nothing but phantom emotions and gut feelings left of their brother, and if John could rid them from his body, he would in a heartbeat. 

“I’m not,” John said, pulling his arm away before Virgil could reach for it. 

“John, please. You said you trust me.”

“I never said that.”

“Jumping out of thunderbird two kind of implied it.”

John took a deep breath. “I only jumped after you because I couldn’t let you die.”

“Why?” Virgil pressed.

“I don’t know.”

“And if I had of died,” Virgil said, pointing at the patch of disturbed dirt where they’d landed. “If I’d smashed into earth…”

John winced, curling away from Virgil. Something that sounded suspiciously like a sob broke through his lips. If Virgil died….if he’d killed Virgil. No. John shook his head. The heartache he associated with the Tracy’s would’ve morphed into something un-survivable. It would’ve stopped beating in his chest. He would’ve curled up into a ball, unable to function no matter what the hood tried to make him.

“It hurts.” He whispered.

“That thing in your head?”

“No. Being around you. It hurts more than the humming inside my skull. I understand that. It’s pain, white-hot scalding pain, but this other one, this one in my chest.” John shook his head. “It’s like being crushed. It’s like not being able to breathe, but it doesn’t make sense.” He looked up at Virgil. “You’re not doing anything, you’re not even touching me, but it feels like you’re corrupting my body, making it weak. The hood does it with a snarl, but you do it with a concerned frown. It’s worse.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

John swallowed. “Then you’ve got to let me go.”

“Back to the hood? Absolutely not.”

“I would take the hood scrambling my brain over you crushing my chest with a single look.”

“I’m not letting you go back to him.”

“He’ll come looking.”

Virgil took a deep breath. “And so will Scott.”

“Then it’s a case of who gets here first. I know who I’d bet on.”

“That’s only because you can’t remember, Scott.”

John looked away. He started walking towards the woods and heard Virgil following.

“Where are you going?”

He lifted his wounded arm. “You said I’ve got to clean it. For that I need water.” 

****

John tried to lose Virgil in the woods, but he was persistent and stayed glued to his back. He waited for the roar of jet engines to stop over the island, but there was nothing but the leaves shaking in the wind and the trickle of water from the stream they found.

When Virgil wasn’t watching him, he was looking at the woods with an expression of wonder on his face. John felt that in his chest too. Being around Virgil left him tired, worn thin, but he couldn’t make sense of it. All he could do was turn his back on it and hope it faded to a more manageable level.

“It’s getting dark,” Virgil said.

The sun had gone down, and the air temperature had dropped. John parked himself on a fallen tree, touching his arm tentatively. He’d washed, and bandaged his arm as best he could, ripping a strip of his black uniform to use. Virgil had offered him an actual bandage from one of his many pockets, but John had declined.

His refusal earned him a sigh, and a flicker of annoyance across Virgil’s forehead. 

“I’m going to gather some wood,” Virgil said. “Stay put.”

He moved off through the trees but stayed in sight. John thought about making a run for it, but he slumped, utterly exhausted. He needed to lose Virgil. If the hood found him. John scrunched his face up, picturing what might happen. In the worst-case scenario, he’d scramble Virgil’s brain too, make him scream and beg.

John shuddered and dropped his head into his hands, plagued by nightmares he never remembered having, but they were fresh and raw, and so strong he gritted his teeth. Virgil screaming. Virgil in pain. Virgil dying. A barrage of them assaulted him, leaving him struggling to breathe.

“Hey.” Virgil skidded to a stop in front of him. John allowed Virgil to take hold of his face, and lean him back. His cheeks were wet with tears, and he all but fell into Virgil’s deep brown eyes. There was so much concern in them it stole the air from John’s lungs. “Talk to me. What's wrong? Is it your head?”

“No. I…I don’t want you to die.” Accept that wasn’t quite right. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I was thinking about something happening to you and…” John sniffled. His eyes flooded with tears again and ran down his face. “You have to go.”

“Go?” Virgil wiped his thumbs over John’s cheeks. 

“If the hood captures you, he’ll hurt you, Virgil.”

“He’s not going t—”

“He will.” John pushed against Virgil’s chest. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Virgil grabbed one of John’s hands. “You’re freezing.” His frown intensified as he took hold of John’s wrist. “And your pulse is all over the place.”

He helped John off the tree, and onto the floor. “I’m going to get a fire going. It’ll help Scott find us, and keep you warm.”

John had no more energy to fight. He laid down on the ground and watched as Virgil busied himself with the fire. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Virgil was shaking his shoulder gently, waking him up. 

“Drink some water.” John let Virgil sit him up, drank the water on offer, and then sunk back down. Virgil stepped over him. “Move closer to the fire.”

John did, and Virgil lay down beside him. They both lay on their backs, staring up at the night sky.

“Good night to see the stars,” Virgil commented. 

John felt Virgil looking at him again. He turned his head to look back. It was somehow easier to look his way with only the flicker of fire on his face, but Virgil’s expectant expression left him frowning.

“What?”

“The stars, John.”

Virgil lifted his finger towards the night sky. 

John looked up and frowned. “There’s nothing there.”

“What do you mean there’s nothing there?”

“It’s black and endless.”

Virgil’s thick eyebrows met in the middle as he studied John. “The stars.” He whispered, again, putting so much emphasis on those two words.

The stars.

John had no idea what Virgil was talking about, or why he was so persistent. The night sky was dark and vacant as it had always been. He didn’t look at it.

Virgil shut his eyes, and his voice came out hollow, and sad.

“He took the stars from you too?”

"What stars?"

"The ones up there." Virgil waved his hand above, but John didn't look. He shifted an inch away from Virgil, thrown off by the bite in his voice.

“There were never any stars to begin with.”

“Yes, there was,” Virgil said firmly. “There is. Please, John, just look.” He pointed to the sky again, but this time there was a tremble in his finger.

“I have looked—"

“Please. Look again.”

He refused.

"For me." Virgil pleaded. He leaned closer, and the fire reflected from the tears on his lashes.

A knot tightened in John's chest. He sighed through his nose and rolled his head against the ground. He'd look for Virgil despite not knowing why.

He stared straight into the darkness, aware of Virgil’s gaze locked on him, and the upset he hadn't meant to have caused.

“There’s…” he trailed off. There was something, flecks of light on the black canvas. He blinked, and they remained. The more he looked, the more he saw until his eyes could distinguish between faint and bright, what was close, and what was so far away. 

All the emotions that suffocated him were lost in the darkness. John focused on the light, and it filled his chest with something new, something free, and special and John let out a slow breath.

“The stars,” Virgil repeated. “You love them.”

John couldn’t remember them. For him, it was the first time he’d ever seen them, but what Virgil said was true. He loved them. The awe he felt about them filled up his inside and he shot Virgil a smile. His smile was returned.

Virgil began pointing them out, naming the constellations, and telling John stories about the stars. He didn’t interrupt Virgil and tell them he knew. He didn’t know how he knew, nothing made much sense, but listening to Virgil while he looked up at the stars with no pressure to remember anything made him relax all tension in his body. The humming in his head almost faded to nothing, so consumed by the stars and the comforting tone of Virgil's deep voice.

Virgil’s waving hand stole John’s attention. He stopped admiring the stars and admired that instead while Virgil continued to talk about mythology. John reached up and caught Virgil’s hand. He stopped talking with a hiccup of a gasp, and let John manipulate his fingers

John stretched out Virgil’s long fingers and ran his thumb over his knuckles. Virgil’s concerned gaze bore into the side of his face, but he ignored the look in favour of studying his hand. John knew it was crazy, he knew it made no logical sense, but he could hear music in his head when he touched Virgil’s fingers. 

He heard notes that soothed him. And like the stars, John fixated on them rather than the darkness and oppressive emotions all around. Virgil’s hands made music. Music he enjoyed. Music he’d missed. Music he remembered.

“What is it?” Virgil whispered.

“The piano.”

And once he’d said those two words aloud, he could see it. The piano. Virgil sat at it, playing music, a slow, soft piece that instantly left his eyelids drooping. He yawned, and lowered Virgil’s hand to his chest, holding it hostage against his heart.

“You…you remember.”

“It’s…it’s not really a memory.” He flashed Virgil a glance. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, it’s more like a glimmer of one, a slither of one in the void. You at the piano, filling the room with music. It’s…calming.”

Virgil smiled. “Music is to me, what the stars are to you. They give us peace.”

John hummed. He forced his eyes open and took another look at the stars. “I think they’re extra special when they’re combined.”

He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked at the stars while he heard Virgil on the piano. It wasn’t the first time he admired their brightness while Virgil helped him drift off to sleep.  

“Thank you for giving me back the stars.”

When he stopped concentrating on the fragment of a memory, he feared it would vanish altogether, but it stayed. The first bright star in the endless darkness of his memories. Virgil at the piano. 

****

He fell asleep and woke with his face towards the fire, and Virgil pressed against his back. He’d slung an arm over John’s side at some point during the night, and snored directly against John’s nape. 

John didn’t wake him, he sighed deeply, content to stay in the place between sleep, and awake, drifting back and forth, warm and at peace for the first time in forever.

He could trust Virgil.

He'd returned the stars after all.

Maybe he could trust the other Tracy’s too.

John flinched and let out a scream.

The pain spiking in his head forced him to curl into a tight ball. He hissed, clawing at his temples. Virgil was on him, trying to uncurl him, speaking fast, and firmly, but John couldn’t make out a word.

“What do we have here?”

The hood had found them. John lifted his head enough to get a look at him, twiddling the dial on his wrist that made John’s head feel like it was about to explode. Virgil launched at him, but a gun aimed at his chest made him back off fast.

“Stop it!” Virgil yelled.

“That depends on you…”

“Me?”

“Are you going to come with us quietly, or are you going to cause a scene?”

Virgil’s eyes found John on the floor, withering, and gasping as a fire burned through his brain.

“I’ll come quietly, just stop hurting him.”

The pain in John’s head retracted to the familiar hum. He glanced around at the hoods men, all armed, all sneering at Virgil.

John turned to him. “Run.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He helped John to his feet and wiped away the trail of blood from his nose then he slung John’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him close by the waist. “I’m not leaving you.”

The hood rubbed his hands together. “Two Tracy’s for the price of one. This is going to get interesting.”

John's stomach rolled. He glanced at Virgil, and the nightmares of the night before raced toward him. Virgil hurt. Virgil screaming. Virgil made into a weapon like him.

He couldn’t let it happen. 

He wouldn't let it.

 TBC

[vampiredecay]

Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

--

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Briefly Instant (Part ten)

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: Life is complicated, always moving and working in ways we can't comprehend. Between the bubbles and the heartache, an unfortunate encounter left a half-broken heart and a strong connection which separated this soulmates for a long time. Two sides of the story, two hearts that longed for each other painfully. One brief instant was enough to know.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, alcoholism, curse words.

Previous Chapter ___ Next Chapter ___ Masterlist

TH Taglist: @lucky-foxface @lokisprettygirl22 @criticaltrinket @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss

"Emma please let me explain" Tom still had his arm around your waist, that's how he noticed you were trembling. Emma stormed towards you, the moment she raised her hand you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact.

But Tom was faster. He sat up straight, protected you with his body to take the slap for you, "Emma, back off and calm down!" He raised his voice, making it sound much louder in your ears.

One of his hands affectionately went up to the back of your neck to hold your head, pressing your ear against his chest, and with the other he lifted the sheets to prevent her from seeing your naked body.

"You’re going to defend her, really? You're my brother!" She screamed sharply, almost fuming from her ears, it really was a terrifying sight, her face completely distorted due to her anger.

"E-Emma" you stammered, peeking up from Tom´s shoulder.

"Don't even dare, you whore! I asked you one thing, JUST ONE, not to fuck my brother, and that's exactly what you did!!" Emma hit her own leg, walked a few steps towards the window and screamed into a pillow.

"Why it is such a bad thing, Emma?" Tom covered you up with the sheets before stepping down from the bed and put his swimsuit back on. "WHY?! Because you'll have your fun with her and then you will trash her like all the others, and I will lose another friend!" And she was crying, crying uncontrollably, did she really cared for you that much? Or was it an act of possession? You wondered.

"It's not like you really like having her as a friend, you've left her alone all these days, you've been with Vivian and Naomi more than her, and don't even get me started on that shitty gift you gave her. Something useful? Don't make me laugh, I've seen you work your hardest to buy that jewelry box, don't tell me it was a lot of effort to buy that spatula".

What the hell was going on? Tom without knowing you was defending you from his own sister, and the woman who has been your friend for almost 6 years, was yelling at you for having slept with her brother.

'What is wrong with me?' you held back the tears, the knot in your stomach grew as you did so, you felt dirty, upset, exposed and stupid.

“Emma, Tom, and I are nothing, and even if he rips me apart like that, who would be the first person I'd turn to for help? You” She laughed, "Who else? You have no other friends".

"Emma!" Tom shouted.

"You know what? Fuck each other, I don't care" She turned around and slammed the door, the sound making you flinch and rise up your hand. When you came to realize what had happened, you uncovered yourself and tried to walk away from the bed, it was futile, your legs quivered and you fell to your knees to the cold floor.

"Emma, please wait!!" you yelled in between sobs, "Y/n, she's angry and won't hear you" tom came quickly to help you up, it was a significant struggle, your body sent tide waves of pain through, you felt it in your core and every single nerve in your body.

“I...” he shushed you with a peck to your lips, “Come here” he pulled you to the bed and back to his chest, his hand accidentally going too low, “Sex won't solve anything Tom” you hissed at the contact, you didn’t wanted to have sex with him, or have any type of sexual contact ever! Your body was killing you.

“That's not my intention, I just want to hug you” you pouted and let out a small sniffle, still very upset and hurt for what happened with Emma. You also tried to keep your skins touch to the minimum, it was far too weird, it even felt gross for you, and he noticed.

"Would you be more comfortable if we cuddled wearing pajamas?" he softly spoke, being careful not to show how hurt he was. He helped you into your cotton sleeping pants and large t-shirt, you were grateful te material was soft, it felt nice and warm.

“I'm going to get mine, wait a second, darling" he knew it was already five o’clock, but if Emma was going to pull something on you, he rather have you near him, where he knew she wouldn't even bother create a scene.

The word nothing was a harsh truth, technically you two weren't even friends, just mere acquaintances, and he has been head over heels for you for an stupid amount of time, saying it out loud just made him feel like a maniac.

He had a weird feeling as he was pulling up his sleeping shorts, it was as if something was horribly off place, his keen awareness of spaces made him realize his phone was missing from his night stand, it was instead placed on top of his bed. He thought he might have left it there.

He was about to return to you, when his ringtone filled the silence of the room.

"Hello? No but...we agreed that I was going to have the holidays to myself, talk to Sam!" He chocked as the person on the other side of the line cut him off.

"I sent a car to your location, you better be inside the jet in 30 minutes Thomas!" He warned.

"I understand" he slowly left the phone on the table, frustrated he hit the mattress and let out a growl.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry...I" he entered your empty room, the bed was a mess, your stuff was gone, all your clothes had disappeared, and on top of all you were nowhere to be seen.

"Y/n?!" He ran downstairs, his suitcase falling behind him, "Vivian, where's Y/n?!" She shook her head, also Naomi by her side when tom asked her the same question. Both girls turned their heads towards Emma, who was standing in front of the main door.

"What did you do?" He refrained from getting near her sister, between the distasteful call and the love of his life gone again, he was in a dangerous mood.

"I just told her the truth" she crossed her arms in fron of her and locked the door behind her.

"Emma I don't have time for this, tell me where is she!" He tried to push her out of the way without hurting her, but she was determined. "No, I won't let you hurt her" Emma forced him to back up a few steps with her hands.

"Hurt her how?!".

"Like you did with Willow" he froze, he didn't know what to do, he had to get on a plane, but he also wanted to find you, "Ugh! Just give her my number, no, give me her number!" Demanding he pointed to her pocket.

"I deleted it, you'll never contact her" he entered in a state of anger that he couldn't manage anymore, so he stormed out of the house with his suitcase in hand, hurting his hand against the wooden doors.

"FUCKING FUCK!" he yelled as he ran to call a cab, getting away from all of it, and from you as well.

"See? He didn't denied it" she opened the broom closet's door to let you out, "You were right, I'm so sorry Emma".

6 months later.

"SCANDAL! Our sources came with the latest images of a shocking discovery. It turns out that Tom Hiddleston, the British actor that plays the male lead in Guillermo del Toro's new feature film Crimson Peak, was caught in the London Sunset bar, drunk and in a very bad mood. Witnesses stated that he started yelling and threatening several customers. The authorities have already taken care of him, and he is being taken to the local police station for processing".

He didn't understand a thing, all he saw were flashes of light as he was forcefully yanked out of the bar. Then, a very strong pain in his back forced him to bend over, they had put him inside a car, only that he knew at the moment. The trip was short and yet it seemed like hours, the incessant passing of the street lights put him in a bad mood again.

Then they took him out of the car and took him, with his hands behind his back, to a ridiculously lit place with lots of noises that he didn't recognize.

"You have right to one call" the officer almost shouted, given that Tom gave him no response the first two times he had repeated it.

"May I call now?" That's how he sounded in his head, luckily the officer understand him enough and lead him to the phone attached to the wall.

He dialed the numbers, and it started ringing.

That beautiful voice on the other side, he had missed it so much it triggered his tears and heavy sobbing, "Darling?".

"Tom? Is that you Tom?".

"Turn on the telly, please my love" he supported his weight on the wall, his guilt and shame made his knees weak.

"Omg, ok don't panic, tell me which station you are".

"I don't know" he sounded like a lost kid, "it's ok sweetheart, pass me to the officer and tell him I'm your wife".

"Yes ma'am? From that bar he was found in, a few blocks east, you'll find it by the flags...glad to help ma'am, sorry for the inconvenience" the officer was kind enough to give the phone back to Tom for his last couple of seconds, "Tommy baby, I'm coming ok? don't be scared, I'm on my way" the machine hung up the call on its own, he started sobbing even more.

How he allowed things to end up like this?!

End of act one.

[lordabovehelpme]

Endlessly Enough- Din Djarin x Reader

A/n: Hey all! So I’ve been in an interesting headspace recently and it’s gotten a lot better, but this little blurb is very very self insertive. So I totally understand if this is way out of y’alls interest! 

Please be smart and don’t read this if it is going to trigger something!!! Be safe!!! 

Warnings: Depression! but some fluff to go with it. GN! Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the small feeling that creeps up on you. Days full of joy and happiness suddenly turning into memories and wishes. The long hard ache to feel the corners of your lips twitch again. To experience the excitement and thrill that life once gifted you.

It’s the quiet voices quickly become overpowering and overwhelming. Repeating their sick cacophony of twisted truths and alluring lies. Pulling you into their jaded beliefs and taking you as their sombre prisoner.

Terrible. Horrible. Never enough.  

It’s the heartache every night as silent tears trail down your cheeks. Your chest feeling both empty and too full all at the same time. As if you're drowning beneath the harsh surface of the world.

It’s the sharp pain running down your arms into the palms of your hands. The unforgiving torture of your nerves dancing as if on fire. Your stomach turning in disgust at yourself.  

It’s the forced smiles as you try so hard to mask the decay within your heart and mind. Everything hurts.

Worthless. Undeserving. Never enough.

It’s the nights where you can’t even sleep. Eyes open but not looking at anything, the need to cry, to release some pressure, and yet the salty drops never fall.

It’s the mornings that haunt you and cast stern sunlight across your blanketed form. It used to be such a comfort, a scene you looked forward to, but now you despise it.

Burden. Broken. Never enough.

It’s the loss of interest of the things which once ruled your thoughts. The world shifting from its vibrant palette to dull greys and blacks.

It’s the disappointment you hold over yourself. Why can’t you just get up? Why can’t you just be happy? Why can’t you just be normal?

Weird. Ugly. Never enough.

It’s the soul crushing feeling of your mind tearing itself apart. Headaches and heartaches coming in tandem. Your eyes losing the sparkle they once kindred so bright.

Waste. Nothing. Never enough.

Then there's the soft coo of your name. It seeps through the thick heavy syrup encasing your thoughts. The quiet utter of a greeting. You try to call back. To reach out to him.

It’s the glass cage you’re locked in. Distorting your view even as your fists smack the metal. Your body sinking back to the floor, curling in on itself to try and regain the energy you once had.

Then there's the feathery touch of his fingertips. They trace your features and wipe away the drying tears with nothing but love. The light drag of his fingernails on your shoulders and back.

Then there's the touch of his pillowy lips to your forehead. They slowly move across your face. To each closed eyelid, to the button of your nose, and finally to the chapped mess of your own lips. Each kiss lasting for minutes as his breath fans across your face.

Then there's the words that shatter your icy prison. Claiming you back from the grip of your innermost thoughts. Calling you back to the world, pouring life and love back into your empty body.

Not a burden,

Not undeserving,

Not a mess to be cleaned up,

Then there's the slight waver to his voice. The small sniffle as his own emotions claw into his soul. His strong hand cupping your face and bringing his forehead to meet your own. Small drops of sorrowful salt landing on your face.

You are so

Endlessly

Enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don’t mind me, just crying over here! 

Anyway, I love you all and hope you are having a wonderful day/night. And please please remember that nothing is forever, while the world feels like it may be ending today and you may want to leave, tomorrow might hold the change and light you need. So please, be safe and love yourself! Or if you can’t do that right now, know that I love you.

Never hesitate to talk to me, even if you feel like you might be bothering me. Trust me, you won’t be. I would love to talk! :)

Love forever, Lordy :) 

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I’m not tagging anyone for this little blurb because of it’s heavy topic, but if you would like to join my taglist, please fill out the google form linked blow, or just hit me up and I’ll happily do it! :) 

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