#the first panel is from so many months ago. the two side-by-side panels was almost cut because i couldn't figure out dialogue but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

papercupids · 3 years

Text

past the happily ever after - wong kunhang

pairing - wong kunhang x reader

genre - post breakup!au; angst; music producer! hendery;

summary - bumping into your ex reopens some unhealed wounds.

word count - 2k

warnings - none that i could point out

as you waited for the employee to wash his hands and get back to you to take your order, you glance around the shop a little more, quaint little wooden tables are lined up messily and on top of them, matching brown stands which are home to almost 5 spoons, forks and knives respectively per table. The sunlight coming in abundance right in to illuminate every nook and cranny of the corner cafe.

It’s not too crowded here, maybe because 3:00 pm is not exactly the definition of a rush hour.

the bells of the coffee shop rang and scanning the whole room, just to feed your curiosity more, you turned back. And when you do, you really wish you hadn’t, because just in the span of a mere second, your heart is ripped out of the place its caged in between your lungs because all of the time you’ve spent thinking about this moment did not prepare you for when it’s really happening. You turn back quickly, after freezing in your place when you first see him, and you’re scared that anyone who looks at you right now, including him, can see right through you and feel the trembling in your knees. But more than fear and awkwardness it was a simple debate of feelings of love and hate both that made you freeze right now.

Countless accusations, numerous insults, you had so many questions for him, so many secrets to spill, it had come to an extent where you would imagine him sitting next to you jst to calm your overwhelmedness.

But you had later come to a conclusion. If your love meant nothing to him, neither will your hate.

And hendery was just as shook as he spotted you and your face registered itself into his brain.

the smell of pancakes, the small noise of it crackling on the pan, the sun pouring in just like in the cafe, but a little dimmer, the morning version of it. from the small windows of your apartment, soft music playing at a low volume and you’re humming along to it.

“y/n,” he calls out and that’s your cue to know he’s already up and you flip the pancake and walk over to him still lying in bed, adoring the rising sun from his position on the bed.

“Why did you wake up so early?” He mumbles groggily. “It’s your holiday today, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you make your way back to the kitchen, “i just had a craving,” the pancake is perfectly golden when you take it out and place the batter for the next one.

A few moments later you hear the shuffling of feet before a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a face nuzzles itself in your neck.

“goodmorning, dery.”

“Mmh,” he inhales your scent as if it was the very oxygen he breathes, and when he does exhale it tingles on your neck.

Turning off the stove, you turn to him and catch his lips in a slow and chaste ‘good morning, honey’ and ‘i want this forever’ kiss.

“Hey, y/n,” hendery currently has his hands in his pockets and you can hear the awkwardness in his voice, someone who was ever so frank and comfortable with you. You can swear this guy grows more beautiful each time you see him. The last was almost a fat six months later after you broke up with him, on an instagram story of a mutual friend of you both. You muted his story after that and it took you two weeks to stop listening to taylor swift after that. And now, it’s two years later but you still love this man as much as you did the first time you ever said it to him.

“hendery, hey, didn’t expect to run into you,” you pray that he can’t feel the beating of your heart which in your opinion is vibrating enough for your body to shake visibly.

“Yeah, me neither, how are you though? Long time no see,”

“Yeeah, i’m fine, just a little over the place.”

“Oh, well.”

The employee behind you both could literally feel the tension between you both from where he was standing. Either way, he needed to get over both of your orders before any one of you messed it up and made the other leave. It could strongly affect the revenue of this small cafe.

“Miss, what would you like to order?” He calls out to you, causing you to turn.

“Oh, yeah. A caramel macchiato, please.”

“And, you, sir?”

“I’ll have an Americano, thanks.”

“So it’s a combined order?”

And the next few seconds is just you and hendery awkwardly communicating through your eyes asking if the other’s okay with having coffee together and strangely enough even against your best interests, you both are.

“Okay, i’ll have it on your table in a few,” and the man disappears behind the curtain, quite proud of himself. If this one couple made it together, if they were broken up right now, their kids would hear of this cafe. He giggled and went on with his work.

As for you, it was not at all like the time you had once imagined in the shower how meeting hendery would be like. There were no slaps, no “fuck you’s” and absolutely no drama unlike how you imagined it in the shower.

You sat opposite on one of the round tables, besides the glass panel.

“So how have you been?”

“Oh, good. Just finished an album I was working on, a week ago. And damn, I'm tired.”

“Oh,”

the music blasted through your ear and you hit the lower volume button as you rolled your eyes at hendery, if he continued to keep the volume this much, he’d end up losing his hearing, for sure. You try to tell him that, which comes across more as a shout than a normal tone to him because of your inability to listen to your own voice above the song. He nods carelessly, he’s just concentrated on your expressions as you listen to the track.

but it's just the way it was, life wasn’t always a happy ending, it was rough without any mercy. and you weren’t a fictional character, neither was this a fairytale.

You’re in his lab today, chocolate wrappers, guitar, papers here and there, the nightlife hours starting outside. And you are both sitting opposite each other, you’re sitting on hendery’s usual seat, a comfortable huge chair you loved to dominate whenever you’d drop by here and he’s sitting on a random stool that was lying outside, not complaining a bit.

“So, um,” you remove the headphones a few minutes later. And hendery listens in rapt attention, something you wished he did when you asked him to choose which dress he liked better on you,

“I hate to tell you this, hendery,” his expressions tighten as he tenses his jaw, “but, babe, you’ve nailed it this time around too!!!” You scream and envelope him in a hug.

And poor hendery is still shocked, but he hugs back as it soaks in his mind.

“This song is gonna be the shit people hear on loops, hendery, loops! This is a bop,” he pulls away.

“You really think so?” You nod your head.

He hugs you again, more tightly, “i love you,”

“So,” he drums his finger on the table after a long few minutes of awkward silence. The order still hasn't come. And you both have been looking at the other tables, there weren’t many people here.

“How’s life been for you, aside from your profession?” he asks.

“I don’t think I quite gave it much time, don’t regret it though, what about you?” your profession, for you, had been something of a coping mechanism in the past few years, it had been something you had given your everything to, and strangely enough it hadn’t packed up its bags one day and said, ‘we aren’t working anymore,’ and left.

“Oh yeah, no, i did try to make it work with someone, it’s going good for now.”

The last nail in your coffin. It takes up your entire energy to not flip the table over him and run away from not only the city, but the country and never leave a chance to ever bump into him again, because you see you did try to forget him.

But it never happened. It was just automatically that your hand reached over to the other pillow in your bed to ruffle hendery’s hair to wake him up to only be met with the cold side of the bed, and to take out two cups of ramen, only to quickly keep it back inside and to pretend it never happened.

“That’s nice,”

And thankfully, the cafe guy is coming over with your drinks.

And you sip on your macchiato as it gets awkward again. You can’t bear to look him in the eyes, no. It just cracks your very soul and you suddenly get annoyed with the fact that if he wanted he would have kept the girlfriend thing to himself, but he had to put it all in your face.

But your thoughts wander furthermore after this, does she get to listen to his songs firsthand? Does she get to eat the food he makes? gets to ruffle his hair first thing in the morning? gets to wrap her arms around him and feel his heartbeat?

hendery slammed his hands on the steering wheel. He had fucked up. Big time. Plus the traffic wasn’t budging. He rested his head in his hands. The cars honked occasionally and the city lights hurt his eyes, an upbeat song was playing over the radio in a low volume and the car was warmer than the outside.

This was the third time in a row he’s done this. And he could feel the guilt build up in him, he wasn’t worried about your reaction to this.

You’d kiss him, tell him to not worry about it and go to sleep as it was probably late and he would be tired.

He was scared that this was gonna keep happening and he’s gonna wake up without you instead of you sobbing softly out in the living room. He was afraid he had messed you up too much. And what for?

The traffic clears as he presses the accelerator and lets go as fast as he can.

And back home you’re not disappointed, you’re just tired. You weren’t upset that hendery hadn’t showed up, but he hadn’t even texted you, surely it would take just a second.

But it was okay, he had work. It was important. You sighed as you slipped into your pyjamas and moved to the sofa to watch something.

And you hear the key turning then, signalling hendery was home, you stand up to greet him and as soon as he’s visible, a sympathetic look is plastered on his face.

“I’m sorry….” you hug him before he can complete and he hugs back with equal force.

“‘S alright, hendery, it’s fine.” And you rub his back.

And suddenly you hear a sobbing sound from him. A long and choked up noise and you pull away to get a good look on his face.

“dery?” You cup his face, “what’s wrong, honey?”

“Oh, babe, i’m not going anywhere.” You crawl close to him and wrap your arms around him. “I’m gonna be right here hendery, and things like these happen all the time, but that doesn’t change the fact that i love you, okay? I’m gonna stay. I’m gonna be with you as long as you want me to.”

“I messed up, I mess up all the time, why are you even here?” He’s sitting down now, crying in his hands.

He nods as his sniffles fade away slowly and you’re both just sitting on the floor, holding each other, knowing no one’s gonna go away.

“And, um, y/n, i have to tell you something.” He finally speaks up. His body language tells you it’s been what he’s wanting to tell you since you met at the counter and you nod at him to continue.

“I wanted to apologise.”

You almost spit your drink.

“Why?” Even though you know the answer, you want him to confess his sins. Confess the fact that he threw a forever away in a matter of a moment, that he didn’t listen to what you had to say.

“I’m sorry for what I did, I truly and genuinely loved you and I made a huge mistake. Everyday I think about what could’ve been if I didn’t do what I did.”

loved.

But that made the two of you if he thought about it. It was okay now, now that you met him, now that he apologised to you, know that you’ll say “it’s okay,” to him, piece by piece it’ll start to get better. You believed it.

You’ll still love wong kunhang, but a little less maybe.

the silence in your home is biting. You can hear the low whirring of the air conditioner and the tick tocking of the clock. The text bell breaks the silence though, for a second, but it does.

“Coming home, give me 5 minutes.”

hendery wasn’t late. He just hadn’t came home for the entirety of last week. He has to work on this new album, he’d said to you when you called him this morning. Normally he had told you not to call him when he was working since it broke his link of working but it was out of hand now.

And he told you he’d come home today and talk.

You sighed as the lock clicked, and he closed the door behind him.

He throws a small smile at you, “y/n,” and he knows this is going to be hard when you don’t return it.

He sits beside you as you try your best to not let the tears fall, “what?”

“I’m sorry but this isn’t the way i want to see you, i want you to be happy-“

“Well, then damn, dery, keep me happy!”

“Will you let me complete?” You glare at him as you blink more to keep the tears at bay.

“Look, I realised that i want to see you happy, but i’m just simply, i can’t. So,” he takes your hand and grazes it with his own.

“So, i’m letting you go, y/n,”

“What the actual fuck ‘letting me go’?” Now there's no meaning in trying to keep the tears hidden, they come as fast as you stop trying to hide them.

“The thing is hendery, if you would’ve been sorry right now, i would have honestly had no problems in being here again and to end up in this same situation, i would go through it all again, but the fact that you just want back away is so disgusting,”

“Sorry would have meant that i would no longer do it again, y/n, and you know my work, I can’t keep promises,”

“So that’s it? We’re finishing this conversation and you’re taking out all the shirts from our wardrobe?”

His silence is a reply enough, and you can’t do anything but sit there as quietly as you shushing yourself and hoping this was someone else in min hendery's body and that tomorrow you’d wake up to him apologising and explaining how his body got swapped with someone else.

But it never did happen

“It’s okay, hendery. You did what was best for both of us,” you take a sip from your drink. “I couldn’t see it then, but I do see it now,”

“You do?” He raises his eyebrows,

“Yes,” you nod gently.

And his phone rings. “Excuse me, i gotta take this,”

And he’s barely a few steps away from the table when he receives the call and says, “yes, babe, i’m coming i just met an old friend.”

And you smile. It was okay. You’ll probably cry yourself to sleep tonight but tomorrow will be better, and you will be better again.

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redorich · 3 years

Note

In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them.

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #ethoslab #zedaphplays #impulsesv #tango tek #xisuma #bdubs #zombiecleo #falsesymmetry #iskall85 #joe hills #grian #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #me.cpp #me.txt

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

I adore your qui gon and obi wan stuff so can we get a number 8 on the prompt list with obi wan and qui gon?

Absolutely!! I’m so glad you chose that one; I’ve loved every single prompt I’ve gotten but this one breaks the mold a little.

I hope this lives up to your expectations!

From this various prompts list.

When Qui-Gon Jinn set foot on the planet of Melida/Daan for the second time, he had a fixed set of expectations.

He expected to find the same war-torn, shattered homes and abused soil, the same decimated populations, the same stench of death. He expected to find the underground hideouts where the children hid from the wrath of their parents, and where the Melida plotted against the Daan and the Daan against the Melida. He expected to find a bruised and shame-faced former Jedi Padawan, ready to humble himself before the Council.

He expected to have to offer both comfort and stern reprimand to this child who, as much of a delight as he had once been, no longer deserved to be his apprentice.

And he did find some of that.

He also found fields of green grass, and abandoned fields of half-plucked vegetation and fruits.

A memorial garden.

A row of corpses covered neatly in cloths, lining the road, respectfully untouched.

Faded posters announcing committees and treaties and open elections, speeches and remembrance services.

A mural on a stone wall, somewhere between impressionist and abstract, of a line of children and adults, the children in the center. Towards the very middle, almost exactly so, was the image of a young boy with pale russet locks hanging an inch loose, and Qui-Gon paused, observing warily as if the image might come to life and attack him.

But it was only an image, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was only a wayward child.

And none of this is was going as anticipated.

The Jedi Master tried to recall what Yoda had told him before chivvying him out the door, but in truth he had not processed much of it aside from Obi-Wan’s name and the understanding that he had asked to be retrieved from Melida/Daan.

Why?

Clearly things had changed, immensely — and yet, in the background, the continued sound of bombs going off and weapons firing, and not a living being in sight.

Qui-Gon continued deeper into the core of the civilization, skirting the worst of the ruins but avoiding the main road in a passing effort to go unnoticed.

It did not last long.

“Master Jedi!” a voice hissed out suddenly, and Qui-Gon turned sharply to see a young man — maybe nineteen, at most — peering at him around the corner of the nearest building, pressed close to the wall. He gestured shortly and vanished.

Qui-Gon took a moment to cast out his senses. The Force bore no distinct warning, so he crossed the road quickly and ducked around the corner.

The young man was waiting for him. Up close it was clear that he was younger than he had appeared, perhaps seventeen, just emerging from the gangly limbs stage, and he was coated in dirt and grime — some of it oddly strategic, smeared across his cheekbones and the crown of his forehead, darkening and muting them. Dark hazel eyes considered Qui-Gon suspiciously.

“You were expecting me,” Qui-Gon stated.

The boy nodded. “I was. Obi-Wan said you would be arriving today, maybe tomorrow.”

A strange jolt ran through Qui-Gon. He had not said Obi-Wan’s name aloud himself, not since that day almost eight months before, and while he had heard other Jedi mention it, it was off-putting to hear this total stranger use it. So familiarly. Like he knew Kenobi well. Qui-Gon brushed the thoughts aside like so many cobwebs and spoke again: “Well, here I am. Where next?”

He did not say, ‘Where is Obi-Wan?’

For some reason, it would have felt like a confession.

The boy pressed his lips into a flat line, as if the Jedi had failed some sort of test. “…I’ll show you. Stick close to me and don’t do anything reckless. Stealth is our best ally right now. Only ally, really.”

Qui-Gon wondered what he was, then, since he was certainly not included in this mysterious “we.”

It was slightly insulting, and sharply painful, to be lectured on strategic maneuvers by what amounted to a child soldier.

Nevertheless, Qui-Gon followed him.

They wound their way through the settlement, bypassing craters where homes had stood and also far more intact buildings, still crisp and clean and bearing that unmistakable scent of newness.

These, more than any of the others, were painted with images of children and adults standing together, plastered with announcements, and more than one — many — almost all — featuring that flame-haired youth. More often than not he was framed closely by two others. Another boy, this one slightly taller and leaner with dark hair. And a girl, a little smaller, with bold waves and startling green eyes.

The boy with the dirty face turned his head to look at each of them, though he did not slow.

After what felt like a very long time, Qui-Gon found himself entering what seemed to be a cellar. It was dark and musty, but before he could question it, his guide went to a section of the wall and pushed, popping open a panel that sank away and slid to one side.

“This way,” he said unnecessarily.

In they went. It was a tunnel, low and long, and Qui-Gon had to stoop halfway just to move. The boy, several inches shorter, had less trouble.

A few minutes of breathless, blind stumbling later, and they reached a reinforced door.

The boy knocked slowly, then quickly; stopped, and then knocked rapidly again. “It’s me!” he called through the crevice. “He’s here.”

There was a grinding sound, and then the door swung open to reveal bright light. The boy slipped through without hesitation, but the Jedi Master was more wary, blinking and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light before slowly entering the room, still bowed low from the tunnel.

When he rose, he was looking directly into the eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The boy had changed, and yet was exactly the same.

There was no other way to describe it.

He had certainly shot up an inch or so in height. His Jedi tunics were gone; he was wearing a stained white tunic of much poorer cloth and simpler cut, over a pair of patched brown trousers and sturdy boots. His robe was still the one he had worn when he had first arrived all those months ago, but he had sewn the sleeves so that they did not dangle over his wrists or hang wide and loose; instead they were drawn closer, but not so tight that they impeded his movement.

His hair seemed more coppery red than before as it hung loose and untidy, coming to slightly ragged ends halfway between his jawline and his shoulders. Some of the baby fat had melted away, driven off no doubt by stress and hunger and emotion, and his cheekbones stood out a little too much.

But it was his eyes that struck Qui-Gon.

They seemed exactly the same.

Pale blue-green, wide and friendly and innocent, sweet as they had been on the day they met.

Unbearably naive.

Those eyes flickered with shock for a moment, and then the boy stepped forward and offered out his hand. “Master Jinn,” he said.

Qui-Gon blinked. Perhaps if he waited a moment, Obi-Wan would remember that Jedi bowed? But the boy merely stared at him with his hand extended, and so Qui-Gon grasped it and shook briefly before letting go.

The boy did not seem particularly bothered. He turned to the rest of the room. “You’re all ready?”

“Yes,” came a chorus of voices.

Freed from the strangeness of Obi-Wan and his gaze, Qui-Gon looked around. There were several others present — all humans, all young, all grimy. Maybe a dozen or so in number. The room he was in was spacious, a little low-ceilinged and plain. It had the air of a bunker, with bright lights that aggravated the eyes and dull walls and functional furniture. Most notably, the enormous table in the center.

It was spread with maps, fliers, announcement posters, detailed blueprints for buildings and machinery, tidy sketches outlining strategies and countermeasures. Qui-Gon’s keen eyes caught words like ‘anti-terrorism,’ ‘knowledge is courage,’ ‘long-range missile launcher,’ and ‘riot activity.’ And, half-concealed under a map of Melida/Daan’s entire surface, a flat holo of three people. Obi-Wan. The dark-haired boy. The girl with green eyes.

“Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan’s voice broke into his observations.

They were all watching him with various degrees of mistrust.

Qui-Gon straightened his spine, and then forced himself to relax a little, trying to radiate comfort and honesty. Even without force sensitivity, they would be eased somewhat.

“Yes, I’m listening,” he assured them.

Kenobi exchanged a quick look with the boy who had guided him here, and the youth shrugged. “He was quick enough and he listened to what I said, but he’s like most adults. Thinking more in his head than paying attention, didn’t even ask my name.”

Qui-Gon started. He hadn’t, had he?

“I—” he began, but the youth cut him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You didn’t ask,” he said. “I’m not sharing now. I’m sure you’ll hear it eventually.”

Obi-Wan nodded as if this were perfectly reasonable. “Master Jinn, are you prepared to take all thirteen of us back to Coruscant?”

“What?” Qui-Gon demanded. He glanced around at the others, who looked even less impressed than before. He felt so unexpectedly out of his depth. What was this place? “I — no, I’m returning you to the Jedi, to the care of the High Council.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said placidly. “You’re not. I’m sure Master Yoda had his reasons for sending you—” the slightest emphasis on the word ‘you’—“but you are here to escort myself and the other twelve to the Core to appear before the Senate. That’s why you were assigned such a large ship. We’re going to make an appeal on behalf of Meldan.”

“Meldan?” Qui-Gon echoed.

“Our planet,” one of the others, a curly-haired, fierce-eyed woman of about twenty-two said. “Obi, are you sure about this? This isn’t at all what you said we could expect.”

“Master Jinn is an exception to many rules,” Obi-Wan told her; as he turned his head to look in her direction, he briefly seemed to change, the tension in his shoulders easing and his face alight with mischief. Then it was gone. He turned back to Qui-Gon, and beneath the veneer of professionalism could be glimpsed a strange aura of… something Qui-Gon couldn’t determine or define.

Their eyes met again, and silence fell for a moment.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan decided. “Yes, this will work. If any Jedi will help ensure you catch the attention of the Senate, it would be Master Jinn. Master Yoda also told me that Master Adi Gallia will be your official patron, which is good; she spends most of her time handling the political side of Jedi affairs.”

“Then we should go now,” said a small boy of no more than nine. “Let’s go!”

“Not just yet, Jocco,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, turning a gentle smile on the child. “We’re not quite ready. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

“Right,” Jocco said, nodding. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan smiled again. “All right, everyone. We have meals to eat and supplies to pack, so let’s keep together and keep organized. Sarai,” he nodded at the curly-haired woman, “and my friend,” a nod to the bitter-eyed nameless guide, “please bring Master Jinn up to speed. Master Jinn,” he added, glancing up from where the smallest children were flocking to his side and clinging to his hands, “I will see you in an hour.”

He left, surrounded by children both far younger and several years older than him, like adoring chicks following their mother, or maybe more like an honor guard. The contrast was both ludicrous and oddly touching.

“You listen to him,” Qui-Gon commented to his tight-lipped companions. “Even though he no longer carries the authority of a Jedi.”

“I haven’t seen any Jedi authority yet,” snapped back his unnamed guide. “Just three Jedi who came, two who left, and one who stayed.”

“It was not our mission to stay,” Qui-Gon replied calmly, tucking his hands inside his sleeves. “Though I can see what compelled him to.”

“Oh, can you?” said Sarai. She folded her arms tightly and assessed him, her lip curling. “I don’t think you see much past the end of your own nose.”

“Petty insults will get us nowhere,” he replied, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of said nose. “And it won’t help you when you speak for your people before the Senate.”

“Me?” an amused smile curled her lips. She looked as if all her suspicions had just been confirmed. “I won’t be speaking, not primarily anyways. I don’t have any governmental authority behind me, I’m just a secondary representative.”

“Same here,” said the young man.

“Governmental authority…? Then who is your speaker?” Qui-Gon asked, slightly bewildered.

“Are you blind?” said the young man. “Obi-Wan is the leader. Since the other two were assassinated, Obi-Wan is our only head of government.”

The next time Qui-Gon laid eyes on his former apprentice, it was mere minutes before their agreed departure time.

The children — Melida, Daan, none of them older than sixteen, aside from former Melida Sarai and former Daan who still refused to share his name — were all gathered next to a large reinforced bay door next to a small fleet of speeders.

Obi-Wan had one arm draped around the shoulders of a ten-year-old boy, murmuring instructions to him, and carrying the little toddler girl on his hip. She was playing with his hair contentedly, unbothered by the preparations going on around her.

If it had been strange to see Obi-Wan before, with his air of sameness-yet-differentness, it was doubly so now.

Knowing what he now knew.

Knowing that Obi-Wan Kenobi had accomplished what he had set out to do and reunited the Melida and the Daan with the help of a few middle-aged adults from both sides and the constant aid of his two companions, Cerasi and Nield. Knowing that he had been fairly elected alongside Cerasi and Nield as the Triumvers — the three Heads of State — of the newly named Meldan.

Knowing that they had been in the midst of Reconstruction both physical and emotional when a radical had betrayed them, murdering innocents gathered for discussions. How Cerasi had been murdered in her bed. How Nield had begun drumming up a military force, only to be assassinated — by a friend of the peace or a foe, who could say? How Obi-Wan had seen all his allies either killed or turn away, and had gathered all he could and retreated below ground, holding tight to his ideals and the legislative power that now backed him.

Knowing how he had continued to sow the seeds of freedom and diplomacy even as the people left above ground resorted again to violence. How he had nurtured genuine friendships among his people, even after having been betrayed.

And here he stood, not even fifteen, making children laugh and reassuring people older than him as he attempted to carry them to freedom and hope.

A government of war-veteran children, led by a former Jedi Padawan.

Qui-Gon watched as everyone was paired up, older teens with younger children, two to a speeder, until at last there was only one vehicle left and only himself and Kenobi still standing.

“I’m afraid I’ll be piloting,” the boy told him. “I’m familiar with the route.”

Qui-Gon swallowed away a bitter taste and merely nodded.

Obi-Wan swung himself up behind the controls, and Qui-Gon moved to sit behind him, and despite everything, despite knowing Obi-Wan’s history over the past eight months, despite being determined not to regard him as his Padawan ever again, it still felt wrong to sit behind. To let the child lead. To let the child sit behind the controls where any decent sniper would aim.

“Stick close and keep low!” Obi-Wan called out.

“Love you Obi!” the same tiny girl cried out from somewhere behind them on another speeder.

Qui-Gon didn’t know what he expected, if he expected anything at all in this strange parallel universe he had wandered into. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan turning his head to grin at the girl and calling back, “Love you too, Cler!” still surprised him.

And then they were off.

The children were clearly well trained, experienced. They seemed to know this back route by heart, undeterred by the semi-light of dusk, and keeping behind outcroppings of rock and trees as much as possible.

Obi-Wan glanced around periodically to check on the others, and every so often one of the others from the back of the parade would speed up to match his pace and give him the all-clear before falling back again.

The breathlessness of the moment settled somewhere in Qui-Gon’s chest. If he could put aside the emotional toll it was taking to sit behind his former student and see him not as a Jedi but as a war-tried planetary ruler, it was easier to be caught up in the rush. The fate of thousands depended on this race for freedom.

The former Jedi Master and Padawan maintained their lead, a slight gap between them and the others.

This served them all well when a blaster bolt came out of nowhere and struck Obi-Wan in his right shoulder, missing his chest only because he sensed it at the last second and twisted away.

There were screams from the smaller children; the older children reacted immediately, scattering their small fleet and engaging their weapons.

“There!” Qui-Gon cried, pointing to a ridge on their right where glimpses of people moving could be seen. His other hand was holding Obi-Wan upright.

“Are you all right to keep piloting?” he shouted.

“For a little while! Hold on, I have a plan!” Obi-Wan shouted back.

“Is it a good plan?”

“Hard to tell until I’ve done it!”

For a second it felt like it had been a year ago, or even better, both of them on the edge of adrenaline and serenity, grinning.

Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and deflected two more blaster shots, calling out warnings to the others within earshot.

A speeder went down.

A girl and boy were thrown several meters, crushing in the dust, clinging to one another as they rolled to a stop. On another speeder, Sarai yelled “Here!” and pulled up alongside Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, while Jocco stood up from behind her and leapt.

Qui-Gon’s heart shot to his throat.

But as he extended a hand and caught the child with the Force, Obi-Wan was already doing the same thing, drawing Jocco safely onto their speeder. Sarai, meanwhile, swung her speeder back around and parked it in front of the fallen one, shielding the injured two from view. She stood up on the seat and raised a blaster in each hand, lips twisted in a snarl. “Over here you bastards!” she screamed. “Like shooting at children? Give it your best shot!”

“She’s insane,” said Qui-Gon.

“She’s my second in command!” Obi-Wan laughed. “Now get ready! You’re taking the wheel!”

“What?”

Qui-Gon turned his head just in time to see Obi-Wan launch himself off of the moving speeder with reckless grace, executing a Force-augmented leap to land neatly on the ridge. “Kenobi! What are you doing?” Qui-Gon bellowed.

The boy didn’t respond. He had a blaster in his good hand and dropped out of view, directly onto the heads of the people concealed behind the rocks. There were yells; red light flared as weapons went off in rapid succession. Sarai took advantage of the distraction and urged the other two onto her speeder. “Go!” she said.

As soon as they were off, one of the other speeders erupted from the tree-line and swooped in front of her, slowing down enough to allow her to jump aboard behind two smaller children. “Good job kiddos,” Qui-Gon heard her say. Then she looked up at him. “Come on, we have to go!”

“But—Obi-Wan—” he said helplessly.

As he did, Obi-Wan reappeared at the crest of the ridge, a smoking hole in his trouser leg and a bloody furrow over one eye. He looked directly at Qui-Gon and mouthed, ‘Go! Take the others and run, now!’

Then he was gone again.

A pained look crossed Sarai’s face, but she glanced at Jocco sitting on his lap and smoothed it away at once. “He knows what he’s doing,” she said. “Now come on!”

They sped off, trailing dust and a broken wreck, following in the wake of the other speeders far ahead of them.

In the distance, the ship gleamed in the low light, a beacon for them to follow.

The others were waiting for them when they arrived, arranged defensively around the ship, protecting their only mode of transportation. The nameless boy was standing front and center, an adapted blaster rifle in his arms, looking ready to kill anyone who got too near. Jocco ran straight to him.

Sarai helped the other two down and began loading everyone onto the ship, which opened at Qui-Gon’s command.

He and the boy with the rifle waited.

And waited.

The sun set in earnest, and darkness fell.

And still they waited.

“Can you make your appeal to the Senate without him?” Qui-Gon said suddenly.

The young man whipped his head around to look at him. “What?”

“Can you make your appeal without Obi-Wan?”

He sneered. “In his absence, legal responsibility falls to Sarai and me. But it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not.” Qui-Gon agreed.

There was a brief silence.

“Can you pilot this starship?”

“What?”

Qui-Gon did not repeat himself this time, and the young man’s eyes widened, his grip on his rifle slackening. “You… you want to stay. You want to stay and search for him.”

“You need to leave,” said Qui-Gon quietly. “Can you pilot this starship?”

“My name’s Radan,” the young man said brusquely, extending a grimy hand. “And yeah, between me and Kieln we can figure it out pretty quickly.”

“Good,” said Qui-Gon shaking his hand firmly. “As soon as you exit your first hyperspace jump, contact Master Yoda, it’s all programmed into the system. Tell him what happened.”

He looked again to the shadowed horizon, to the dark smudge several kilometers distant that was the stone ridge where he had last seen Obi-Wan.

“Tell him,” he paused. “…Tell him I am going to stay with my Padawan.”

Radan paused halfway up the ramp, turning to look back, a look of concern crossing his young face. “Even if he’s never going back to the Jedi?” he asked.

Qui-Gon hesitated.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? Obi-Wan is capable of making his own decisions.”

Qui-Gon turned back towards the horizon, towards Obi-Wan.

“But I will not leave him again.”

#ugh this boy #someone hug him he’s hurting #sir please your life is in mortal peril sit down #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #master & padawan #jedi apprentice #melida/daan #padawan obi wan #my writing #star wars #star wars fic #tw injury #tw blood #tw reference to child death

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naokow · 3 years

Text

Get Free

summary: I want to get off, but I keep riding the ride, I never really noticed that I had to decide, to play someone's game, or live my own life.

warnings: angst, manipulating behaviour from eren, female reader (i’m sorry i didn’t make the reader genderless), cursing, smoking, drinking. let me know if i should add something else.

word count: 2.8k

A/N: so let me know if it sucked, pls, thank you. also, English is not my first language, so there can be mistakes pls tell me where my dumb ass was wrong

The hand on the waist was the final nail in the coffin for you.

How dare he dance with another girl. How dare he smile at her, how dare he ignore you and act like you weren't there, too.

"This is just pitiful," Marleen snorted, finishing half of her drink in a sip as she watched the same scene unfolding in the living room, those two uncaring of everyone else, like they were throwing it in your face.

You hummed, not really in the mood for taunts and half assed advices. "Which part?"

Marleen finished her drink and threw the cup over her shoulder, over the improvised bar the frat boys did last year with wood panels and boxes. It landed in the kitchen, someone yelling at the brunette as it nearly missed him.

"You. Honestly, for the last time, you need to—"

Frowning, you tensed and turned to glare at her, only to stop staring at the dance floor. "Honestly, Marleen, for the last time, I'm not fucking Jean to get over Eren."

She raised her hands in mock surrender, taking the half empty bottle of beer from your loosened grasp. "Doesn't have to be Jean, pal."

Groaning, throwing your head back dramatically, you couldn't find it in yourself to debate this subject, again.

Not that it mattered. Not like it was supposed to be a fun night at a frat house. Not like you made a fuss about it, dressed in your best leather pants and top, tattoos on display.

Not like you actually tried a bolder look with the cat like eyeliner and actually put on lip gloss, because you knew Eren liked those, said once your lips were pretty like that, coated with too much cherry glitter—

No, it didn't matter, not even as you sat there, feeling stupid as you pulled at your snake bites, wondering if you should get drunk or just go back to your dorm and complain to Annie.

But the blonde was at the party, too, somewhere among the crowd and probably sulking just as you, if you were to guess after seeing Armin with some junior chick an hour ago.

Marleen pushed herself away from the counter, losing her balance as she fell from the chair, but you saw it coming. Rolling your eyes, you caught her arm and steadied her.

Marleen grinned as you let her go, and seized your bicep, squeezing it three times, like a grandmother would with her grandchildren's cheeks.

"God, I love your muscles."

You loved them, too, but often found yourself wondering if Eren would pick you if you looked different, like the pretty, thin brunette wrapped around him on the dance floor.

God, how much can someone dance?

"Anyway," Marleen sighed, fake annoyance and all that, "Someone has to fuck Jean."

You snorted, "Poor you, volunteering like that for society."

She waved you off, pushing your now empty beer bottle into your chest as she left your side with her arms in the air, waving franatically to catch Jean's attention from his seat on the couch, where Connie was trying to explain something with his fingers.

Putting the bottle behind you on the counter, you tried to stop yourself from looking at him. What good did it do to—

He was gripping her waist, his large hands, clad in rings you got for his last birthday, covering her exposed skin. Her arms were in his hair as he bent to say something in her ear—

No, you noticed, he was kissing her neck and she was grinning sideways at Eren.

Scoffing, you tugged at one of the pierces in your nose. You should know better by now, Marleen once chided after cleaning your face off, ruined make up almost dried on your cheeks.

He knows, Annie scolded from beside you two in the small public bathroom after Eren ruined karaoke night and brought his new girlfriend.

He knows you love him and doesn't care. So do yourself a favour and move on.

Yeah, you watch Eren laugh at something the girl said, move on from the crush you had on him since you were sixteen and his hair was still short and he was crying over his parents' divorce.

Sure, move on and forget all the times you helped him, picked the pieces and put him first. Like he did, all those years going down the drain ever since the school year started and he barely acknowledged you.

"You look like shit," someone took the seat next to you, and you sighed before accepting the offered red solo cup.

"Feel like it, too," you looked at Levi snorting as he sipped on his beer. He looked like he just got out of bed.

Right, you scowled at yourself. You've been so busy preparing to let Eren walk all over you, that you forgot that Levi lived in the frat house that hosted the party.

Hange was talking Erwin's ears off, but he smiled and waved at you from where he stood close to the oven, once you looked over your shoulder to inspect who was there. Hange imitated his gesture without turning to see who, exactly, they were saluting.

Levi ignored them altogether, hair disheveled from his twitching fingers. He probably had a nap, you guessed, from the simple black shirt and jeans. Most likely got dragged down from his room by Zeke, or someone.

You knew him well enough, since he bumped into you almost one year ago, in the parking lot where you were smoking, asking for a lighter. Sure, he ignored your bad mood since you walked over to class when Eren forgot to pick you up.

It was just one time.

It wasn't until many months later that he picked a habit of ditching you and your plans together.

Levi was older by two years, and so were his friends, but they took you under their wing almost immediately.

They were protective of you, especially Hange, but no one came close to Levi anytime Eren made you cry or upset you with anything.

Like now, as he glared at the place where you already knew Eren was having fun with the girl. But you chose to look at Levi, chin in the palm of your hand.

Finally, he turned to take you in, his eyes catching onto the fact that you wore the rings and choker he got for you over the last year, then the many earrings Hange and Erwin got you anytime you wanted another pierce.

"Well, you sure look worse than me," you smirked, but Levi frowned at your attempt.

"He did it again?"

You couldn't find it in yourself to get mad at his words, "He just forgot, is all."

Levi snorted, "He should get checked for that Alzheimer he's been sporting for the last months."

You hit his arm, barely touching him, and huffed. "Play nice."

To his credit, he left it at that and let the noise of the party fall over you, both nursing your drinks.

You pondered going to Hange to ask if you could crash over the night with them, knowing Marleen was busy and Annie probably left by now.

"Want to dance?"

Well, then.

Your eyebrows almost reached your hairline as your eyes found Levi's, "Huh?"

He didn't shrug, or rolled his eyes, simply putting down his bottle and staring at you. You didn't want to look over at the dance floor, or be near that sexual tension, but—

But Levi was trying, and you knew how much he despised the parties, or having to interact, or, God Almighty forbid, dance.

And he was asking if you wanted to, because he knew you liked the song that was playing before you even realized what song it was or that you've been moving your head along with the beat for the last minute.

But Eren was th—

You jumped from the bar stool, "Sure."

You were taller than Levi by some good inches, but that didn't bother him. It never did, not even when you made fun of it at game nights or that one time at the carnival when he was the only one to join you in the big rides.

It didn't bother him, not even now, as you let him put his hands on your bare waist and slightly gaze up at you.

Hands around his neck, you let your chin rest near his ear, "You dance like someone's grandpa."

You could only assume he scoffed as he moved his arms around and pushed you closer to his chest.

"That's how you're grandpa danced?"

You shrugged and let him move your hips to the beat, fingers lost in his hair. "Wouldn't know. He died before I was out, kicking and screaming for the last time in my life at my mom."

Levi shook his head at your words, used to your humour and thankful you couldn't see his smile as he put his forehead on your bare shoulder.

You found yourself forgetting about Eren for a while as Levi danced with you and touched your skin, fingers grazing sometimes over your back or spine.

Then he was lost to your mind altogether when Levi caught your eye and you tried to make sense of the look he was giving you.

Marleen said something about his stares, when you couldn't see him watching.

You wet your lips, and he watched your tongue swipe over the pierces. "What, Ackerman?"

He shrugged, "You hate lip glosses."

It was barely there after all the drinks, but the thin, shiny coat with that stupid glitter was noticable enough for Levi to glare at.

And you did, you did hate lip glosses when Levi's arms were around you like that and his hands didn't shy away at the feeling of your muscles like Eren once did, because, damn, what chick wants those abs?

"'m stupid, I know," you mumbled, head titled close to his ear, but he turned to look at you, not even dancing anymore as his mouth was so damn close to yours.

"Want me to buy you another lipstick? What was it, again? R—"

You laughed, and Levi smelt the juice and whiskey on your breath. "Red, yeah. Still don't know how you found that shade, it was so nice, and I finished it too fast."

Levi smirked a little, "Told you, it's a secret. How else am I gonna surprise you?"

You felt him around you, too real, too much, it consumed you, steadily, as his eyes wondered around on your features.

"You surprise me anyway, Ackerman."

He wet his lips, then frowned, having to remind himself you weren't there for him, that you were in that position only because you were hurting again and because he was stupid and reckless and—

"Take it off, please?"

Levi searched your eyes, "What?"

"The gloss crap. Take it off, please."

Levi's breath hitched. "Are you sure?"

You looked down at his lips, "Help me a little, Levi."

Damn you. Damn you and your beautiful face, that irresistible body and that personality and the fact that it made him fall hard. So hard he couldn't deny you, even if it hurt him.

Because you were still hang on Eren, waiting and suffering, uselessly prolonging the inevitable everyone knew its end, but you.

But now you were in his arms and looking at him like he put the stars that formed those constellations you adored so much, on the sky.

Damn you, da—

He would never admit it hurt to press your lips to yours, to feel that cherry lip gloss first, then the punch as he probed at your mouth to get rid of that crap as you so nicely asked him to.

He hardly noticed how the pierces felt against his tongue, all lost to his mind as he gripped your hips tighter.

He would never admit it bothered him how your fingers played with his hair as you moved your face down and kissed him too roughly for his taste.

But it brought some satisfaction to glance over your shoulder at the shocked, angered Eren, his dance partner forgotten as he stared at his hands on your skin.

Good, it felt good. Even when Levi knew you would regret it the next day and go back to sulking over Eren.

But you brought his mouth back to yours and kept his face in your hands and made him ignore how much it hurt while he bruised your lips with too many kisses.

Levi tried to convince himself that things would finally be better, that it was the right move and he wasn't just a rebound. Maybe, if he kept telling himself that, he would believe it, too.

Even as you pecked his lips once, twice, stopped to gulp down breaths of air, like you just surfaced from water, like you've been drowning and finally, finally, you were free now.

But you stayed close, foreheads pressed against each other's while some stupid disco song started playing and Connie's excited yells surpassed even the stereo system.

You opened your mouth, and Levi wondered if he should be the first to say sorry.

"This is nice."

Flinching, you furrowed your brow and turned to look at Hange. They grinned, inches away from your face. Levi scoffed, and took one, two, fuck it—

He almost jumped away from you, putting space, almost making a statement. He glared at Hange.

"Is this our new secret handshake? I have to tell Erwin," they didn't wait, and you sighed as Hange bounced away to annoy Erwin for the millionth time that night.

You clicked your tongue, Hange forgot to tell you why they interrupted... Whatever that was with Levi, who was now rubbing his face in what you knew was annoyance.

Wetting your lips, and feeling no trace of cherry, made you feel worse than before.

"Right, I'm—"

Levi scoffed, hands back into his pockets as he already moved to walk past you. "Don't. I'm sure Jean would like to continue this."

You wondered why his words stung that much, because you were supposed to feel better after kissing someone. Because it was supposed to make you feel something else than sadness and constant self hatred.

Because—

Eren was making his way towards you, and Levi was already lost in the crowd before you could try to mend things. And say what, exactly? Nothing made sense anymore, your thoughts scattered all over the place because—

"What was that about?"

He was asking you, talking to you, and it didn't feel as good as you thought it would. Neither could bother to step aside, talk somewhere private, people still drinking and dancing around.

But why would Eren go somewhere private with you? It wasn't right. Nothing was feeling right as he glared down at you, at your swollen lips and flushed cheeks, that even the low light of the Christmas lights hanged around the walls couldn't hide.

"What?"

Sure, you were broken. Mind blank and fingers twitching to hold onto something.

Eren frowned, "What was that about, with Ackerman?"

You blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

It wasn't the apology you almost shot at Levi earlier. You sounded too confused and shocked, even for you.

But nothing made sense and Eren was now fuming.

"Listen—"

And you were all years for him, straining yourself to hear him over the music and the crowd that pushed your bodies closer. All because you were used to this, dropping all doubts and latching onto Eren. Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time he was that close to you, couldn’t comprehend the harsh reality.

He was there because it bothered him to lose his play toy, and you were too blind to see it, or anything else beside his eyes as he talked. Blinking, you allowed Eren to take you to the kitchen, something about another drink.

Levi was lost to you as Eren put his arm around your shoulders, barely keeping it there as he started talking about his classes and something his colleagues. You granted him your attention, all of it, never half hearted like he was with you most of the time.

Try all the time.

Because you were better, always so caring and welcoming for Eren to just pick and take whenever he pleased. But he was your friend, you cared too much about him to just let him go or ignore his needs. And he even left that pretty girl to talk with you. Surely, that must count as something.

“Where’s your lip gloss, hm?” Eren inquired, watching you over the rim of his cup as you blinked, head titled to actually think about what he asked. Then,

“Oh, sorry. must’ve worn off,” you struggled to articulate the words, barely thinking them through, feeling small, almost lost under his stare for a moment. Eren smiled down at you, almost cynically, as he put his cup down and took your hand in his.

“Want to dance?”

You nodded, faster than before, with—

It didn’t matter, not in that moment.

Assuring him it was alright, because every little thing was alright to you as long as it was Eren and his hand was taking yours, even if the hold was loose, barely there, like he was seconds away from letting it go.

#eren yaegar #levi ackerman #fanfic #reader #eren x you #eren x reader #levi x reader #hange zoë #erwin smith #reader insert #female reader #aot fanfiction #eren angst #levi angst

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sunflowerstache · 3 years

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Did You Order a Pizza?

Halloween 2020 is filled with lots of surprises for the Styles family

A/N: Hi lovelies! I hope you had. great Halloween and you're feeling alright these days! This is a one shot following the family from my pic Another World, which you can find here! I hope you enjoy it and I cannot wait to hear all your thoughts!! I love y'all!

Word Count: 7.6k

~~~

“And you’re sure he’s back?”

“You heard him on the phone. He’ll be waiting for Jeff so you’ve got plenty of time while he waits for the man to not show up.” Glenne smiled at you from her spot in the driver’s seat. “Although, I think he’ll like who does show up instead.”

Harry had left for Los Angeles so that he could begin filming a new Olivia Wilde film, leaving you and Bella in London. And as much as you’d have loved to join him on such a monumental step in his career from the start, you were unable to travel with him. Not only were you unable because your daughter was still in school at the time, but because of the pandemic that was still going on throughout the world. It prevented for most of the year’s plans to take place, which absolutely crushed Harry. He was looking forward to Love on Tour and showing his fans how much fun this new era was for him, more than you’d seen from him in a long time, but he would always put the safety of his fans before entertainment, so it was an easy choice to postpone. However, no tour meant that he could gladly accept a leading role in a film alongside some of the most well known actors in the industry.

But it only took you a few days after his departure to find out you couldn’t be so far from him. As fate would have it, Bella’s class was turning into online learning once the half term break ended, which meant one of the most important reasons you were still in London had vanished. So, after spending two weeks quarantining and making sure you took all the necessary precautions, both you and Bella got tested and flew to the states with your negative results. From the start, you had told Jeff of your plan and he and Glenne gladly welcomed you into their home once you arrived, wanting to spend time with Bella for a few days after going so long not seeing the toddler. And finally, once you got the negative results of yet another test, you and your daughter were off to stay with Harry.

Jeff had spoken with your boyfriend over FaceTime earlier that morning, feeding Harry some story about needing to solidify some merch designs, and making sure that Harry would be patiently waiting for his manager after he finished filming for the day. But the plan was to have Glenn drive Jeff’s car so he suspected nothing seeing it pull up, and surprise him when it was you and Bella getting out the car instead of the oldest Azoff son.

“I can’t wait.” you groaned out through the grin taking over your face. You bounced in your seat slightly, pressing both hands to your cheeks just thinking about seeing his shocked face when he opened the door expecting Jeff, but seeing you and Bella instead.

“What?” The question was brought up after a soft chuckle was heard from Glenne’s side of the car as soon as you were halted at a stoplight.

“Nothing. It’s just cute how excited you are to see him after being apart for what, a month?”

“27 days.” you whispered, urging yourself to force down a smile. “But who’s counting?”

“You guys have been together nearly a decade, and you still get all flustered when you talk about him.”

The way you and Harry acted around one another was something that was always commented on by people in your inner circle, for that exact reason. Without a doubt, your relationship had gone through some of the toughest times, but that was bound to happen when you’ve been with someone since you were sixteen… and even more likely when every moment of your life was documented to the public. But those tough times never seemed to last, because at the end of the day, Harry was everything you ever wanted and vise versa. He was what you daydreamed about in a partner while growing up. And being with him was like being with the sun. He made you feel loved and cared for, you had more fun with him than anyone else on the planet, and every single day with him felt like a new adventure. As a kid, you’d thought the way people described the love of their life was corny, nothing but a thing of fairy tales, yet that feeling that bloomed inside your chest and tummy every time you thought about Harry told you that it was very real.

“Dunno.” you shrugged, “He’s my person. Even seven and half years later, he still makes me feel like he did on our first date.”

“That what’s got you looking extra glowy or is that just another secret to staying in the honeymoon phase forever?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you replied quickly, finding it hard to keep the giddy feeling that was now bubbling in your lower stomach under control when you turned your head to meet her gaze. She was squinting at you with suspicious eyes, her lips pursed as she bit the inside of her cheek, which forced a laugh to fall from you. “What? I don’t! Just miss him, that’s all. Isn’t that right baby? We just missed daddy loads, huh?” making sure to quickly take the attention away from yourself, you turned as much as you could in your seat to look at Bella in the back.

“Yes! I miss daddy so much!” her little legs kicked against the carseat and her arms lifted high above her head, a huge smile plastered on her face. “I have so many drawings and stickers to show him and Mr. Jeff got new socks!”

“I know, we got them all tucked away nice and safe so you can show him. Do you remember what the plan is when we get there?” you asked her, your breath getting caught in your throat for a moment when the sun shined just right through the rear window. It was a perfect day in LA, sunny and warm and just as the car pulled onto the street you knew was where Harry was staying, the sunlight danced across Bella’s perfect complexion. She was a spitting image of her father, down to the freckles dotting her face, the deep set dimples that never seemed to disappear, and the curls constantly falling in front of her face no matter how hard you tried to keep them tamed. Every now and again you caught a glimpse, sometimes through the kitchen window while she was playing in the backyard and other times while her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she slept on your chest, of just how breathtaking Bella is. What angelic beauty the love between you and Harry had managed to create.

“Yeah mumma!” she smiled, giving you two thumbs up, very clearly excited about getting to see her dad again. “You ‘member my costume, right mumma?”

“Of course I did. Put it in the bag right next to mine.”

“Good. ‘Cause ‘m really ‘cited about it.”

“I know baby. It’s a good one, isn’t it?” you knew Harry would get a kick out of what Bella decided to be for Halloween. She had come to you months ago, actually sat you down in the kitchen and explained what she wanted to do like she was in a little business meeting. And of course as soon as she told you, you had to laugh because it was perfect.

“Yeah.”

Her whisper was the last thing said within the confines of the car before the three of you pulled up in front of a beautiful white house nestled deep in the Hollywood Hills. It was much smaller than the house the pair of you had just sold just blocks away, but everything about it was so much homier. A brick walkway sandwiched between a line of shrubbery and a white stone wall led up to the house, which itself was an odd shape. The very front of the house came up to an asymmetrical point instead of a typical flat roof, and the rest of the house was pushed back slightly, so that none of the face was level, and the house almost seemed cut in half horizontally from the distinct line between white stone bottom and black paneling on the upper level of the home. Finally, a brick downhill driveway, made of the same brick as the walkway, led to an all black garage that sat just below the rest of the home. The small details is what made the building give off such a cozy vibe; a vibrant green front door, plant boxes hanging off a few of the upper windows, a black wooden archway and lanterns surrounding the front door, a few potted plants on the side of the walkway, and the faint golden hues peaking through the closed blinds.

“Cute, huh?” Glenne laughed, putting the car in park and turning fully in her seat to look at you.

“Yeah, it actually really is. Reminds me a bit of our old place.”

“Place in London, right? That’s what I told Jeff.” she said at the same time, looking behind her at Bella while you got out of the car. “You ready to go, tulip?”

“Yes please!”

Her hands were already fumbling with the seat belt by the time you opened her door, the excitement itching at her in preparation for what was to come, but she graciously waited for you to sort her out.

“Thank you mumma.” she muttered casually once you had her unbuckled and lifted into your arms.

“You’re welcome, baby.” the way Bella was the most polite little girl you had ever known never failed to make your heart soar. You and Harry were so proud of the person she was becoming, whether she was that way because she saw how everyone in her life acted or because she was born with the kindest little soul, it didn’t matter. She always made sure the people around her were happy and having fun, constantly reminding people how much she loves them, and trying her hardest to make everyone laugh. It was yet another way she reminded you of Harry; they both could instantly light up a room without even trying. “Just gotta ring the bell, right? Say your line?”

“You got it, mumma!” she smiled brightly, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

Nearly the instant you put her down, she darted up the brick steps, taking a full pause at each step to be her funny self and jump, with both feet together, up to the next one. As she made her way towards the front door, you took your place leaning against the passenger door of Glenne’s car, nearly doubling over in laughter watching Bella look hysterical lifting up on her very tiptoes in order to reach the unusually high doorbell.

Your breath caught in your throat as you waited for Harry to open the front door. For a minute, you were sure that he had ignored Jeff’s instructions to stay home, but to your relief, the green door finally opened, revealing a very comfortable looking Harry. He was very obviously post shower, his hair visibly wet and sparkling when the porch lights lit up his form, clad in a pair of black basketball shorts and one of his grey Treat People With Kindness hoodies, and nothing else but a tall pair of Nike socks. It was like a scene from a movie, because when he didn’t immediately see Jeff in front of him, Harry looked over towards the driveway quickly like he was being pranked. But within a second, his attention was brought down to Bella, who tugged on the hem of his shorts, her sweet voice barely audible from the distance.

“Did you get a pizza?”

It was comical to watch him just stare at her like she had three heads. You couldn’t blame him, last he knew, both you and Bella were five thousand miles away, so it made sense that his brain was not comprehending the scene in front of him.

“He’s so confused.” Glenne giggled behind you, but her voice seemed like it was muted with how fully your focus was on your boyfriend.

“Hmm.”

Not even a second after your hum of agreement, and as if it was in slow motion, you watched as realization glossed over his features, his green eyes widening and mouth hanging open, and he sank to his knees. It didn’t take him even a second to pull Bella into his chest, winding his arms completely around her tiny frame and cradling her head in his surprisingly ring free hands.

Seeing the two of them together was like looking at two halves of the same soul reconnect. The moment they were in one another’s arms, it was like everything got brighter. Their smiles widened, chuckles more audible - even from such a far distance, and the warmth that typically lived in your chest recently, burned even warmer. You always knew Harry was meant to be a dad, just from how much he talked about it. You knew that he would do his very best to go above and beyond for his child, to make sure they felt loved and secure and treasured. But hearing about it and seeing it are completely different. Seeing nothing but total adoration on his face whenever he looked at your daughter made you fall in love with him all over again.

“Mumma!” Bella’s shouted, snapping you out of the daze you had slipped into while watching the moment before you. Both Harry and Bella were now looking at you from the doorway, her head resting on her father’s shoulder as he held her in one arm, their faces totally engulfed with smiles. “C’mere Mumma!”

“Yeah mumma.” Harry finally spoke up, his voice carrying down the pathway right to where you were standing.”C’mere.” Just seeing him standing there, smiling so brightly and holding his free arm out telling you he was waiting for a hug, was enough to make you break out in a smile and push off the car, dashing up the steps.

His chest was firm when you crashed into it, much firmer than when you hugged him goodbye in the airport a few weeks ago, and you felt as if you head placement on his chest was different - like he’d grown since you last saw him. Or maybe he hadn’t changed at all but your mind was finally coming out of a month long fog that it slipped in without him, getting readjusted to being in his arms.

“Hi sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, peppering kisses all along your hairline and temple like he physically couldn’t leave an inch of the side of your face untouched.

“Hi baby.”

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, pure wonder in his tone as he nudged the side of your face with his chin, making you lift your head from his chest and look at him. “I just talked to you this morning, said you were going to see your parents before everything got locked down again.”

“Yeah, well. I lied.” you smiled, leaning in to press kiss after kiss to his lips, trying your best to control the insane happiness rushing through your veins. Your response seemed to be enough for him, because he didn’t ask another question wondering why you were in LA. Which was good for you because your plan wasn’t to explain everything on the front porch.

The three of you stayed frozen in that same position, Harry’s arm so tight around you that your face was completely buried in his hoodie, and the other arm holding Bella, forming a makeshift group hug, not bothering to worry about anyone seeing you or anything going on past the wooden archway. Because nothing else mattered. Not when you were with the two people who made your world spin.

“Daddy.” Bella’s timid voice finally broke you apart, both you and Harry leaning back a bit so that you could put your full attention on the little girl in his arms.

“Yes lovie?”

“I lied too.”

“What did you lie about?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder in order to look at him with a very concerned expression, like she felt deeply sorry for whatever she was about to say to him. “I don’t have a pizza. ‘M sorry. Mumma told me it was funny.”

“Oh did she now?” Harry mocked in offence, looking back at you and raising his eyebrows.

“Mhm. But it wasn’t, ‘cause we don’t have any.”

“That’s right. But sometimes it’s okay to say something silly like that and not feel bad as long as it’s not something to hurt anyone, right? And daddy isn’t mad. How about you mumma?” Harry looked to you, trying not to smile at how adorable Bella was about the little fib. You shook your head.

“Not at all.”

“And what about you, B.B? Are you sad you told daddy there was pizza?”

She contemplated it for a bit, scrunching her nose up - again, just like her father - and looking around like the answer would be hanging in the air somewhere. “Yeah.” she said matter of factly. “But ‘cause I want pizza. And we don’t have any.”

Both you and Harry couldn’t help the laughs that fell from your lips, wasting no time before leaning forward to press a kiss to Bella’s forehead. “How about we get some then?” he asked against her skin, glancing at you when saying his next bit. “We’ll get your bags from the car and order one?”

“Oh god!” you yelled, turning around to face the car from which you’d just ran from. “Completely forgot Glenne was sitting in there! She’s probably been texting Jeff about how annoying we are.”

“Annoyingly adorable, yeah.”

“Think she’d fight you on that one. Nearly made her sick on the drive here with how excited I was to see you.” your laugh was muffled as Harry wrapped his arm back around your neck, dragging you in a headlock down the first step towards the car. Bella, knowing that it was time to bring in the bags, wiggled out of Harry’s grasp and sprinted down the steps ahead of you, right into the arms of a now out and about Glenne.

“Everything’s alright?” Harry’s voice was laced with concern now that your little one was out of ear shot. You both tried your hardest to never have any sort of talk about negative things around her, whether that be an argument or things going on in life, because she should never have to be put through the stress of that. Most of the time you just waited until she was asleep to talk about those things, but sometimes it meant going into different rooms and closing the doors.

“Hmm?”

“Everything’s alright, right? You didn’t come all the way out here because something’s wrong, did you?” quickly forgotten was your position in a headlock, and instead, Harry kept his arm around your neck, your body fitting perfectly tucked into his side. You walked step by step to meet your friend and daughter, who already started pulling suitcases out of the boot.

You took a peek up to him, noticing he was already glancing down at you, his eyes roaming all over your face to look for any sign of distress that he may have missed when he first saw you. But you had none to offer him. “Yeah baby, everything’s okay. Just needed to be with you.”

“Swear? You’d tell me if there was something?”

“Of course I would. Always.”

“Alright, professor. But if I find out you were hiding something, I’ll have to write a diss track.”

“Oh will you now?”

“Mhm. Thems the rules.”

Glenne spent a bit of time with the three of you before heading off, telling you to enjoy your time together and even throwing in a little joke about maybe even making a new baby since she missed how little Bella used to be. The comment made your ears warm and a weird feeling flutter through your stomach, but she gave you no time to respond before she shuffled out the door.

Since arriving at Harry’s, Bella practically refused to leave his arms, wanting to be as close to him as possible until she really realized that no one was going anywhere for quite a bit. And her thoughts must have quieted enough because not even twenty minutes after Glenne walked out the front door, Bella was running through the house towards one of the extra rooms she’d be sleeping in.

“Mumma! Come help me! We gotta show daddy!” her already soft voice was even soft as she yelled from the second floor, her request forcing you to get up from the sofa.

“What are we showing me?”

“She’s really proud of her Halloween costume this year. Spent weeks planning it out, you know?”

“I know. She wouldn’t budge anytime I asked her. Very secretive that one.”

“Hmm, wonder where she gets that from?” you sang while walking up the stairs, letting out a snort when you saw him lift a middle finger to you from his position still on the sofa, not even bothering to turn around to look at you as you continued towards your daughter.

“Alright baby, I’m here! Where do you want me?” you clapped, entering Bella’s room in a way that mimicked that of Harry Lambert, something that you knew she’d recognize right away from the amount of times she’s seen her parents being helped by the stylist.

“Over here, mumma. Gotta help me button!” she had already rid herself of the clothes she’d been wearing on the drive to Harry’s, the green long sleeve shirt and jeans laid in a crumpled mess at the foot of the bed while she stood in just her knickers, searching through the small suitcase on her bed for all the pieces to her costume.

You took a seat on the floor next to where she was standing, watching her every move as she finally found everything she was looking for. Her tongue stuck out while she took the fabric between her fingers and gently held it in her hands - taking a moment to look at it in awe - before turning and holding it out to you, expectantly.

“Gotta be careful with it, mumma.”

“Oh I know. They’re really delicate, aren’t they?”

“Mhm. Reedy told me to be gentle with ‘em ‘cause they were made with extra love so they’re extra soft.”

“Oh that’s perfect! They’ll be on for quite a while so it’s good that it’s all comfortable.”

“Yep.”

You look notice of how long her hair had grown while zipping up the back of her shirt, the curls continuously falling against your fingers despite being held over her shoulder by Bella. You knew well enough even before she was born that she was going to have gorgeous hair, all it took was one look at the locks cascading from her father to tell you that, but it seemed to grow even more mesmerizing by the day. It fell loose past her shoulders every day, always managing to fall in front of her eyes while she was sprawled out on the floor playing. Even though you did enjoy how cute she looked pushing the crazy curls out of her face while her little tongue stuck out, you knew it was time for a trim soon.

“Are you wanting a haircut soon?” you asked while zipping her pants as well.

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I like it long.”

“How about we see if we can get rid of some of these dry bits at least?”

Bella thought about it for a bit, picking at her nails while mulling over the idea of going back to the salon. “Yeah, I think that’s fine.”

“Alright, we’ll see about making an appointment when we get back home. Gives you some time to think it over.”

“Okay! Y’almost done mumma? ‘M excited.” she bounced in place, trying her best not to move so that you could finish getting her ready as fast as possible.

“All set!” you checked, reaching up to grab her hair out of her grasp and let it fall down her back. “Just put the jacket on and you’re all set to show daddy.”

“He’s gonna be so happy I know it!” she squealed, carefully picking up and putting on the final part to her costume and turning to look in the floor length mirror. Bella didn’t say anything for a minute, taking the time to examine herself in the mirror. She smoothed the fabric covering her torso, lifted her feet in order to see the little pair of boots, and had one of the largest smiles you’d ever seen on her. “I look so good!”

“You do, lovie! Award winning I’d say.”

“Thank you for helping! Lets go!!” she yelled, darting towards the door and only stopping at the top of the stairs when you called for her, reminding her to be careful by the steps. The two of you quickly discussed your plan before departing ways, leaving Bella a bouncing mess just above you as you walked down to the light switch at the bottom of the steps.

Flicking all the lights off, you cleared your throat and waited for Harry, who had gotten up off the sofa upon hearing your descending footsteps and was now leaning against the back of the furniture, his bum resting just on top of the back, to give you his full attention. Although the lights were off, it was still early enough in the evening that light showed through the windows, allowing you to see his face and make sure Bella got down the stairs safely.

“You all know him as 2013’s Teen Choice Male Hottie -”

“Also 2016.” Harry cut in, trying and failing to stifle his chuckle

“Also 2016’s” you added, “and lead roles in Award Winning pictures such as This Is Us and iCarly.” at this point, it was obvious what was happening and you could tell Harry was fully on board with what was about to walk down the stairs. But he was also so excited. He no longer was leaning against the sofa, but now standing upright and his hands were pressed together in a praying position in front of his mouth. “Introducing, the incredibly talented, musically gifted, style icon of the decade, Mr. Harry Edward Styles!”

The second you saw that Bella made it safely to the ground next to you, you flicked on the dim lights that just illuminated the staircase, showering your daughter in the closest thing you could get to a spotlight. She was standing in Harry’s signature position; bent forward slightly with one hand held in a peace sign while the other dangled loosely by her side and mouth open wide. Harris Reed had taken the time to make Bella a nearly exact replica of the white and black floral suit Harry had worn to the 2015 AMA’s - the suit that really started it all when it came to Styles’ fashion. Her curls were hanging past her shoulders just like Harry’s were at the time, and for good measure, she even lifted her hand to push some out of her face exactly like he used to.

She was a spitting image of Harry. And he loved it.

“Oh my god! You’re kidding! You look fantastic! Gonna put me out of a job! I won’t even need to go on stage anymore. This is amazing!” he screeched, rushing forwards and couching down in front of his daughter. He took in every last detail of the outfit; how the under shirt had buttons but did not open from the front (something Harris thought would be easier for Bella to get in and out of), how the floral detail was exactly the same as the one he had hanging in his closet back home (Reed had asked Alessandro for the fabric), and how even the shoes were a near replica.

“Mhm. I can sing next time. I’ll go up and sing to your friends and you can sit and watch and talk to Mitchy.” she nodded, taking a step back and belting out ‘You’re so Golden!’ “See? Like that!”

Harry beamed. “Absolutely! Give me a nice break every now and again, very thoughtful. We’ll just have to change your bedtime and it’s all set!”

“You like it, daddy?” she asked, her eyes wide as she moved right in front of Harry, her hands grasping the hood of his hoodie and she looked directly into his eyes.

“I love it - and you - more than there are stars in the sky!” Harry responded without hesitation, grabbing her and lifting her into his arms, swinging Bella around quickly enough to let a few giggles. “Thank you very much, beautiful, it makes me very happy.”

“Can’t believe you wanted to be your smelly old dad.” he joked when she pushed against his chest to look at him, “See me everyday, why’d you wanna dress up like me too?

“‘Cause you dress the best, daddy!”

“Ohhhh hear that, love?” he turned to look directly at you, Bella now hiding her face in her hands in embarrassment on saying her dad dressed better than her mum. “I’m the best dressed.” Harry stuck his tongue out at you.

The reaction from Harry was everything Bella was expecting and more. So much so that she could no longer fight the exhaustion of the hectic day any longer. She barely made it five minutes in Harry’s arms before finally passing out. In the coming December, she’d be turning five and you were trying to start and wean her off of taking long naps, but after such an energetic day you welcomed the time for her to rest. She put up a fight getting out of Harry’s arms, the arm she had shoved into Harry’s hood in order to thread her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, tightened each time he tried to pull her away to lay her in bed. Like even in her unconscious state she wanted to know that seeing Harry again wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

It was heavenly to be back with Harry. Even though you had only been apart for such a short amount of time, there was so much to catch up on, and you would never get tired of hearing about everything going on in his life.

“And they used this stuff called Dermacol, and I swear, she swiped over it once and the anchor was gone. Bloody insane seeing it all bare. Hasn’t been that year in years.” Harry laughed, finishing his story of how his first few days on set had gone, the two of you laying in his bed while you waited for the pizza you ordered while he put Bella down for a nap.

“Don’t wash it off tomorrow. I want to see.” you tilted your head back so that it was resting on Harry’s shoulder, in order to look at him. He was sitting behind you, his back pressed against the headboard while you were nestled between his legs, enjoying the feeling of being so close to him again. “Forget what you look like without any ink.”

“Like them though, right?”

“Of course I do. Think they’re very hot.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit, just let his fingers dance up and down your arms, clearly lost in thought. “I wish you could come to set. See everything and everyone.” he finally spoke.

“I know. I just don’t want to chance anything you know? We just traveled and I know we got tested, but I don’t want to unknowingly bring anything to anyone. Maybe soon, once we’ve been here for a bit. But for now, I’d rather just hear all your stories and FaceTime than anything happen to anyone.”

“What time is your call time tomorrow?” you added when he only hummed in response.

“6:45. Car will probably come by around 6 and I should be back near 2. Have a bit of a short day tomorrow.”

“No rush.”

“Yes rush. I wanna be with you both. Missed you loads, ya know? Only gone for a few weeks but I was going mad. Don’t think we should separate for a while.” his voice was soft as his neck strained forward in order to press loving kisses to the soft skin where your neck met your shoulder.

Since the moment you met Harry a decade ago, it was obvious he always knew what to say. He had a knack for spewing out the words you most needed to hear exactly when you needed to hear them. Whether it was comforting your stage fright, in an argument about tv or film characters, helping you pick out outfits, discussing your relationship, or talking about the future, you both seemed to be on the same wavelength. It made life with him so much easier, because you knew that he understood you. You knew that no matter what happened, he would support you and love you. And that’s all you needed.

So you decided finally, after the pit of anxiety in your stomach grew and grew all day, that it was finally time.

“Pretty good you feel that way. ‘Cause I wasn’t exactly sure how to tell you that you’re kind of stuck with me. At least for another fourteen years.”

“Hmm. Want more than that.”

Taking a deep breath, hands shaking and mind running a mile a minute, you asked; “How about another eighteen after that?”

But your nerves were all for nothing because the comment flew right over Harry’s head. Completely missed the point of why you used that specific amount of time and was more focused on giving your middle a tight squeeze - his arms moving from their place at your side to around your stomach.

“Mhm. Even longer than that.”

The words brought an image to mind, one you found yourself thinking about a lot the last couple weeks. One of you and Harry sitting in the living room in your home, talking to your grown children while your grandchildren ran around you happily, doing their best to animatedly explain ways of the world you just couldn’t comprehend. And the pure glee you felt being surrounded by such a beautiful family, one that you created with Harry. But you knew it wasn’t just some fantasy you would dream about. It was something that you would one day get to experience, and that excitement pushed you over the edge.

“You’re stuck with me forever, baby.” you hummed, sinking further into his hold. “But for five seconds, I need you to leave me so you can grab me a Tums.” the anxiety nerves reared their head yet again, knowing there was no missing the punchline this time.

Concern instantly flooded his voice, taking you by the shoulders and moving you away from his chest and to the right so he could look at your face. “Why? You feeling alright? What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t help but simple sweetly at his concern, lifting a hand to rest it on his smoothly clean shaven cheek. “Yeah. You know how I get after flying. Do you mind just grabbing the Tums from my bag?” you asked again, hoping he couldn’t hear or feel the uptick in your breathing.

“You mean one of the nine hundred bags you brought?” Harry joked but still carefully slid out from behind you in order to get whatever you needed.

“Hey, we’re gonna be here a while. I need options.” Because of Covid, the UK was heading into yet another lockdown at the start of November, lasting until the first week of December so for now, so for now, you knew you and Bella would be spending at least a month with Harry in Los Angeles.

“Can take any of my clothes.” he grinned, turning around to face the bed again and bent down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Y’know I love when you wear my clothes.”

“Oi! Say that again but let me record it! If that’s the case, I never want to hear you complain about missing clothes ever again!”

“I said I like you wearing them, not keeping them hidden away for me to find three years later.” he laughed at the memory of his favorite blue hawaiian shirt going missing after getting back from Jamaica, only for it to be found in the back of your closet when moving a few months ago. His voice got quieter the farther he walked from the bed, the confines of the walk in closet filled with his clothes muffling the words towards the end of his sentence.

“Alright, but remember how excited you were to find it after so long? Like Christmas in the summer!”

“‘S’that what’s gonna start happening? You just stealing things I haven’t looked at in years and regifting them?”

“Lord knows you don’t need any more things laying around. Probably wouldn’t even notice anything being gone.” it was true. Over the years, Harry had gathered a very large collection of… things. Everything from clothes to lockets to key cards from hotels, and being in the career he is, he can afford to have it all. But even you had to say he had more than he knew what to do with most of the time, to which he always had some sort of rebuttal for.

But this time, it never came.

This time, you were met with silence from inside the closet, and you had no control over the way your hands began shaking. There were so many different kinds of silence; one of anger, of shock, nervousness, confusion, but any of those were a rarity when it came to Harry. He was someone who always had something to say, despite the emotions running through him. Silence was never really his thing, hell he even said so in a song, so the ideas of what could be running through his head started to eat you alive.

After waiting a few minutes and still receiving no sound of life from the smaller room, you began to get worried. Obviously nothing had happened to him while you were sitting feet away, but what was happening in there? Did he have a heart attack as soon as saw what you had laid out on top of your suitcase when he was ordering food? Did he fall and hit his head? Was he trying to find a good way to break up with you? No, he wouldn’t do that, you knew he wouldn’t do that. But before you could fully get off of the bed to check on him, he slowly sauntered out of the room, staring down at the piece of black fabric gripped tightly in his hands, and you halted in your spot - sitting up right on the side of his bed with your feet dangling off the side.

“Wha - what is this?” his whisper was so unbelievably low, you were surprised you could make out any of the words.

“What do you think it is?” you replied, your voice equally as loud so not to spook him while he was in such a clear state of shock.

“I - I don’t know.”

He still had taken his eyes off of the material in his hands, looking at it like it held every secret unknown to man somewhere within its seams.

“I think you do know.”

Finally, Harry lifted his head in order to look at you. And you felt your eyes water as soon as he did. The rims of his eyes and nose were a deep red, the kind of red you get when trying desperately to hold in sobs. His eyes were a brighter shade of green as more and more tears obstructed his vision, and now that you looked at him properly, his entire body seemed to be shaking.

“If this is a joke, it’s really fucking mean.” he choked out, putting all of his effort into holding back his cries. “Please don’t joke about this.”

As hard as he was trying not to let his tears flow, you were beyond the point of no return. Your cheeks were stained with tears, old dried ones leaving tracks for the new ones to flow freely down, and the lump in your throat prevented you from speaking as loud and confidently as you would have liked.

“It’s not a joke, Harry.” you shook your head, wiping your cheeks with the backs of your hands.

“No?”

“No.”

Harry went back to not saying anything, glancing between you and the black in his hand, not knowing which held more important information. You could see the inner struggle he was having trying to comprehend what was happening, and you wanted to get up and yell it to him. But he needed to go through whatever emotions he needed to, at his own pace.

So you waited for him to do just that.

“So you - you’re pregnant?” he finally sighed, the question making the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly that you would have missed it if you weren’t watching every inch of his face like a hawk. Holding back his tears was long gone as they now flowed down his cleanly shaven cheeks.

“I’m pregnant.” you smiled, the words coming out in one whoosh of air.

So fast that you didn’t understand how he did it, the black shirt - that at first glance was a replica of the logo for the film The Godfather, but when taking a double take, could be found to read The Twinfather instead - was laying in a pile on the floor in front of the closet door and Harry was laying on top of you. Now on your back with Harry hovering above you, both of his forearms on either side of your head, you could fully see the overwhelming joy swimming in his eyes. The last time you had seen this exact look was the day Bella was born. Like within his mind, he was watching the entire world unfold with endless possibilities and unfathomable love.

Harry didn’t let you say anything before he was pressing kisses to your lips, both of your tears making the experience feel a bit slippery as they blended together on your skin. But nothing could make the moment anything less than perfect. Harry’s warmth covered you like a blanket, completely consuming you within the personal bubble that had formed around you on the bed. His lips moved against your with determination, but also care and gratitude, the vaguely strawberry flavored lip balm he was wearing smeared against your own lips, letting the memory of this moment linger for hours to come.

“You’re really pregnant?” Harry asked, his excitement taking over once he pulled back from the kiss.

“Yeah baby,’m pregnant.”

“And is it? It’s - it’s twins? Are you sure? How do you know?” although you knew he would always be there with and for you during all of this, it was reassuring to see him be so ecstatic about the new addition to your family.

“When B and I went to get our Covid tests, the lady asked me if there was a chance I could be pregnant, and - and I couldn’t give her a confident no. So I called Dr. Kelter to see if I could get an appointment before we left and she took me the same day.” your smile grew as you watched him hold on to your every word, wanting to know every single detail you had to give him.

“And she told you it was twins?”

“Yeah. Said she could see them both right away since they can see twins so early. Said ‘m about eleven weeks.” the tears returned to your eyes when you thought about being pregnant again, how much your life was going to change and the excitement that was about to be brought into your lives.

Obviously Harry was feeling the same before he let out another sob, this time his upper half falling onto your chest and burying his face in your neck, his lower body seeming to unconsciously stay away from crushing your belly.

“I love you so fucking much.” he whispered, and you could feel the ever so gentle peck of his lips against your skin. “So fucking much.”

“I love you, Harry.” you whispered back.

“Who knows?” he asked, undoubtedly thinking back to when you were pregnant with Bella and everyone in your lives seemed to know before he did. Something you regretted, but was necessary at the time.

“No one. Just you and me. Want to do everything with you this time.” not wanting to ruin the moment, but also wanting to be realistic for a moment in your clouded minds, you took a second to figure out how to say the concerns that were rushing through your mind at a mile a minute. “I know things are crazy right now and the world is scary and we’re both so busy, but we said if it happened, it happened.”

Harry was pushed up on his forearm in an instant, his other hand cupping your cheek in order to drag your attention to him. He was positively glowing. How only a second ago he was standing pale faced in the closet doorway was beyond you, because now, it was like the sun shined behind his irises.

“I have never been happier in my entire life. We’ll figure it all out together. Like we always do.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #another world imagine #aw-inspo #harry styles fanfiction #1dff

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

The Floor is Better

Part Eight of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4K i am. appalled.

Warnings: SMUT, very vague attempts at sprinkling in hints of an overarching plot, language, the slightest bit of angst, TONS OF FUCKING FLUFF WOWWWW

A/N: This is by far the softest smut I’ve ever written. I will say that there is a hint at butt stuff tho (just a HINT—THERE IS NO ACTUAL BUTT STUFF IN THIS GUYS) so brace yourselves

***

Alright so this bed is, like. Atrociously uncomfortable.

It’s not even a bed. It’s a cot. Just a bare minimum place to sleep, shoved into the wall and taking up less space than the ship’s armory. Like a… like a really shitty gurney almost, except no padding. So not even a gurney then, just a fucking. Piece of metal. Just a piece of fucking metal to sleep on.

There’s surprisingly a bit of space to maneuver yourself when you’re pulled into the cubby completely like this, and yeah, it’s quiet and dark in here but man does your back hurt. Is his spine made of metal, too? Is that why he prefers this? The floor isn’t a feather mattress by any stretch of the imagination, but at least there aren’t any uneven support bars digging into your side.

You’re on Coruscant, and Mando’s been gone for over three weeks.

It. Fucking. Blows.

You’ve literally run out of ideas to occupy your time. You’re far enough above Coruscant’s dangerous underworld to not worry about any potential… mishaps, like what happened on Corellia, but the only issue with the ground being so far below you is that it’s not like you can just stroll down the road and buy yourself a deck of cards at the nearest merchant. The only shop within walking distance of this hub contains the bare essentials; things like food, medical equipment and bacta, spare electronics and parts—all of which you purchased without hesitation. Other than that, you need a ship to travel anywhere in this massive galactic capital, and while you just so happen to have a ship, what you don’t have, at least right now, is a Mando.

Fuck, but you did. Before he left, you had Mando all to yourself for at least a full hour. After he landed the Crest in a long-term terminal and turned his attention back to you, for some reason, he was insatiable. It didn’t really make much sense back then, but in hindsight, it’s like he knew good and well how long he was going to be gone this time, attempting to search for a quarry on a planet with a population that broke a trillion last year. It makes sense. With this many people, a biometric tracking fob would be almost useless, and sure, you realize he set the ship down in the long-term terminal for a reason, but long-term with Mando typically means a week or two. You suddenly realize that in a handful of days, he’ll have been gone a full month.

You suppose you probably could fly the ship somewhere else and send him a coded coordinate set of your new location, but for some strange reason, you can’t seem to reconcile going to all that trouble just because you’re bored out of your fucking mind. You don’t want him to have to travel another however many miles out of his way to get back to you just so you won’t have to twiddle your thumbs for weeks on end. You don’t want to run the risk of trying to make a quick trip there and back without alerting him of any change in location, either, especially on a planet this size. He could return to the hub at any time, and if he comes back to a different ship parked in this lot, you’ll probably never see him again.

Okay, no, that’s not true—he hunts people for a living, and you have his kid. You probably just wouldn’t see him for at least another month or so, and by then he’d be fucking livid.

So. You stay here. The baby offers a distraction, but only to a certain point. The ship is pristine right now, inside and out. Fucking pristine. Almost… almost compulsively so, you reluctantly admit. The console’s entire motherboard has brand new soldering and connections. You used ear swabs to clean and polish each individual button, key, and knob in the entire flight deck. You… may or may not have even labeled and color-coded the heat shrink wrap on every single cable in the Crest’s patchbay, all five-hundred and something of them. When you pried open the metal paneling that covered all the ship’s interior routing jacks, you remember gasping at the sight of a mechanic’s worst nightmare and wondering if the last person who touched it took even more than a few hours on its installation. What used to be a horrifying tangle of haphazard wiring is now a lovely set of rainbow snakes meticulously gathered and bound together with zipties, and you’re incredibly proud of it, though you still haven’t decided whether or not you should be.

There’s also a very particular reason you’re in this poor excuse for a bed. You still very clearly remember Mando’s unfiltered voice in the pitch darkness, telling you he wants to come back to find you in his bed. To find you in it, so he can fuck you though it.

Well. Three weeks ago, sleeping in here sounded like a good idea. You even have a pillow now, and a blanket you can lay out beneath you while you curl up under the one you brought from home. It’s thick and warm—probably a shock blanket, to be honest, since you did happen to find in the medical section—but it still doesn’t offer near enough padding to feel like you’re laying on an even surface right now. Mando could theoretically get on top of you in here and fuck you—there is enough room vertically. He might break one of your ribs on accident though, just judging from the way this one Maker-forsaken support bar seems to dig into your ribcage no matter which way you position yourself in here.

Stars, your back hurts. You should just lay on the fucking floor. If he hasn’t come back by now, what are the chances of it happening tonight? But then your mathematical hindbrain immediately reminds you that statistically, the chances are the highest they’ve ever been. The longer Mando’s gone, the more likely he is to come back every single day that passes.

It’s just as well, you figure, grabbing the tracks beneath the bed and slowly beginning to squeak yourself out of the wall. You try not to let your fingers get pinched between the railing and the slider, but that just means the quickest you’re able to inch out is in intervals the approximate length of your index finger. It’s dark in the hull—the baby is fast asleep in his crib in the cockpit, and the long-term terminal you’re parked in is quiet. It would be a perfect time to sleep, if you could. But here’s the thing—

It sucks that Mando’s gone for this long, absolutely. It sucks that you slept on this awful fucking bed for three whole weeks when you could’ve done this ages ago. But most of all, it sucks that you don’t have anything else to do. Because that means you can’t occupy yourself, and when you can’t occupy yourself, your mind starts to wander. And then you start to fixate on things you probably shouldn’t fixate on, for your own good.

Things like blood on your hands. The baby limp in your arms. A voice spitting, “pretty little bitch like you would sell for at least—”

Your eyes snap to the corner of the hull for the millionth time, the sight of where it happened, before you shake yourself out of it and hop down off the suspended cot.

“This’ll be good,” you whisper quietly in the darkness to yourself, pulling the blankets off and grabbing the pillow. It’s… it’s something you’ve started to do when you need to instantly snap yourself out of a dreaded line of thinking but you don’t have anything stimulating around you to help. Talk to yourself, talk about anything, just talk out loud and focus on the sound of your own voice. If you listen hard enough, it’ll drown out your thoughts. “The floor will be great. The floor kicks ass. I like the floor.”

You spread the fluffiest blanket down on the ground as far away from the offending corner as possible, and then close the much shittier metal bed into the hull wall before collapsing on your clearly superior one, never once ceasing your rambling nonsense about the floor.

Oh, this is nice. This is fantastic. Your back is still tight and achy from three awful weeks of sleeping on a “mattress” clearly made for someone with no concept of comfort, but being able to stretch out on a flat surface with a large shock blanket that feels like a fucking cloud under your body? Your eyes are already starting to droop.

“The floor is better,” you whisper, yawning and snuggling deeper into the pillow. The terminal is quiet. The kid will be asleep for a while. Mando won’t come back tonight. Mando won’t come back tonight. “The floor is better. The floor… the floor…”

***

You jerk awake to something kicking your leg, hard.

Gasping, you’re instantly pulling the blanket over your chest on reflex and bracing yourself for another impact, except then whatever kicked you is immediately toppling over your shins and stumbling to the floor with an unfamiliar grunt.

You and a man you don’t recognize blink at each other for a few seconds; him taking in the way you’re curled up on your makeshift bed, and you taking in the way he’s got his face squished against the metal ground, apparently not quick enough to use his arms to try and soften the abrupt tumble.

It’s like all your blood suddenly thickens and the adrenaline digs claws into your chest. Your first instinct is to fucking bolt, but then your eyes instantly flick to the cockpit, where you know the kid is still sleeping.

Only—you can’t move. You’re frozen in terror, quickly blinking your wide-eyed gaze back at the man on the ground. You know you could’ve only been staring at each other for a few seconds at most, but with the way your mind is hurtling right now, it’s long enough for you to have just the briefest flicker of confusion as to why he hasn’t appeared to have moved either.

Except then another set of footsteps slowly begin clanking up the ramp.

Your heart is fucking slamming up against your ribcage at about the rate of four beats per footstep, but as soon as you catch a flash of beskar stepping onto the ship, you‘re reaching up to clutch your chest with your palm like you just finished a long-distance sprint and trying to take deep, calming breaths.

It’s just a quarry. It’s just a quarry. His hands are cuffed behind his back. It’s a quarry.

The Mandalorian slowly comes to a stop right in front of your outstretched legs and the sharp angles of his chrome profile silently stare down at them, unmoving. You swallow thickly and try not to blush as his helmet tilts towards you and follows your knees up to your hips, along your heaving abdomen and chest, before eventually coming to a rest on your face.

He holds there for a second, taking you in. You bite down your lip and feel your heart thundering under your ribcage, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush in a boiling hot mixture of panic, embarrassment, and relief.

His metallic visor carefully follows the length of your body back down again, pausing once more at your feet.

And then he sighs heavily through the modulator, loud enough to echo through the silent hull, before slowly stepping over them.

“Well, well,” the quarry says, stealing your attention with a sick smile creeping across half his face as it’s smushed against the floor. “Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addit—?”

The bounty abruptly cuts off with a strangled yelp when Mando bends down and grabs him by the collar, yanking him to his feet and then shoving him forward towards the carbonite chamber.

You collapse back down onto the floor with a relieved breath and try not to tremble with the adrenaline comedown. Maker, you woke up barely a minute ago but almost all of it was spent in fight or flight—or in your case, freeze—mode, and you’re already fucking exhausted again.

“I’ll tell him—” you can hear the quarry snarl just before Mando slams him into the metal frame. As much as you try to just tune the confrontation out for the moment and focus on slowing your heart rate, you still manage to catch bits and pieces. “See him again… be interested to know…”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, counting to three during each inhale and exhale. Fuck, that scared you. You almost had a fucking heart attack, and it takes you a few seconds to get your body under control again. But then you realize you haven’t heard anything from Mando’s side of the hub for an extended moment, and the carbonizing gas hasn’t yet filled the room.

Your head turns and if you squint from this distance, you can make out a leather glove clamped tight around the quarry’s throat, the man’s face a red-purple by this point as he sags weakly against the chamber.

“Mando!” You bark quite suddenly, and beskar shoulders jerk straight at the sound as the bounty immediately takes in a giant, ragged breath from under a marginally loosened grip. Mando quickly releases his neck altogether and punches in a few buttons on the control panel to the right, and then freezing gas soon solidifies the gasping quarry into solid carbonite.

He stays with his back to you for a moment, letting the cloud disappear completely before he moves a single muscle. When he does eventually turn to look at you, he still doesn’t say anything.

He just stares. The lights in the hull glint off his helmet, and you tug the blankets up your chest a little further on instinct. Fuck, three weeks is a long time. You’re defaulting in a way, finding it impossible to not reevaluate him after a long absence. Before he left, you’d gotten a bit better at gauging his mood and countenance, been more relaxed and friendly around him, but now, after some time away from him, he’s still so… jarring. Unpredictable, even when standing still. Especially when standing still.

You’re just trying to play it by ear, trying to respond to him the way he responds to you. Only—it feels like he’s either not responding to you at all, or you’re just too rousing of a stimulus to show a response.

“You…” you breathe, and for some reason your heart rate is beginning to kick up again instead of decelerate. You should be calmer now that he’s here, but he still hasn’t said a word. “Y-You scared me.”

Mando stays rooted to the spot, just a motionless suit of armor, with the exception of his chest moving with breaths and his fists repeatedly clenching at his sides, and fuck.

Fuck, you’re wet.

You feel like prey right now. You’re starting to gradually build into another fight or flight mode every second he’s staring you down, refusing to speak, but you also feel a stirring deep down in your floor muscles. He’s so fucking tall from this angle, so broad and—

He steps a single foot forward. You flinch at the abrupt movement, practically soaking your underwear now. Mando takes another step forward, and you wet your lips and start to crawl back on the bed just a bit, staring at him with wide eyes.

Maker, the tension is making it hard to breathe. You’re silently begging him to come take care of you after such an agonizing three weeks apart, and Mando’s body language looks like he’s more wound up than you’ve ever seen him. He starts pacing directly to you, crossing the hull rapidly, and your heart thumps furiously with every step he takes.

But then he gets right to the edge of the blankets and suddenly stops short. He looks down at the neatly made bed at his feet, and then down at his body.

You try not to make an audible huff of disappointment when he abruptly collapses down onto his back with a clatter right there on the floor, just a few inches shy of the blanket, immediately bringing the backs of both hands up to press against the face of his helmet. It should look weird considering his knuckles are pushing hard against the visor, almost like he’s covering his eyes or has a headache but is rubbing the beskar instead of his forehead, but it doesn’t. It just makes you want to rip that armor off his body even more and remind him again of what his skin feels like.

“What are you doing?” You try not to make it sound like a breathless pout as you squirm impatiently under the blankets. “Come over here.”

“I’m dirty,” is the first thing that comes through the modulator, gravelly and distorted but his voice burning a fucking hole through you after not hearing it for almost a month. “I need to shower before I touch you.”

You don’t know why, but something about the way he says it makes you throb hard between your legs.

“Will you please just…” you bite your lip, stopping yourself short of saying take your clothes off and go with, “please, just—hurry. I’m…”

Maker, you don’t know how to say it, and Mando soon rolls his helmet to the side to look at you when you don’t finish your sentence. Desperate for it? Hurting? Feeling your clit pulse right now even though he hasn’t laid a finger on you yet?

“I missed you,” you eventually finish lamely, breathless as you fidget and bite your lip.

“Yeah?” He breathes, suddenly turning the rest of his body on his side to face you. “Tell me.”

“I… I want to show you,” you return quietly, scooting closer towards him. “But you’re being withholding.”

Mando doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but the front of his visor burns into you, steadily increasing your need for him the longer he silently stares at you.

“Show me, then,” he says after a moment, and the sentence rolls through you with a shudder.

You swallow thickly, and slowly start to pull the blanket down. It’s unnerving that his helmet doesn’t move, even though you can literally feel his gaze lowering and searing hot along your newly revealed body. You’re not even naked, not in the slightest, but with the way his shoulders tighten and his spine tenses just slightly, you would think you were completely exposing yourself to him right now.

“Do you want…” Your fingers waver near your belly button, caught somewhere between wanting to pull the hem of your shirt up for him and wanting to pull the waistband of your pants down. “What do you want to see?”

A breath comes through the helmet; slow, but shaky.

“I have to shower,” he grunts sharply, suddenly, his fist clenching at his side. You don’t take offense to the stern tone. He’s clearly repeating the sentence as a reminder to himself, not to you.

“You can get me dirty,” you breathe regardless. “I don’t care.”

“I just spent three weeks on Coruscant’s surface,” Mando grits. “I can’t touch you, I’ll infect you with someth—What are you doing?”

You bite your lip at him as an answer, bypassing your prior conflict altogether by slithering your hand down the front of your pants.

“What are you doing?” He repeats through the modulator, just as your fingertips wedge underneath the hem of your panties.

You shiver at the sensation, your eyes losing focus just slightly as you trail down the front of your pussy. “I… I missed you.”

“Fuck,” Mando barks, and then he scrambles to stand up. “Stop. I’m taking a shower, just—just stop.”

You ignore him, turning on your back and widening your knees so he can still see the way your hand is still moving down between your legs, your finger just barely brushing the top of your slit. “But it feels good.” “Take your hand out of your fucking pants,” he orders tightly. “Right now.”

Your eyes flutter up at him as you do what he says, slowly bringing your hand out of your trousers. “Hurry,” you murmur, biting your lip and blinking innocently up at him. “Please.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his cape does make an audible sound with how quickly he whips around and shuts himself away in the tiny fresher.

***

You forget how long it takes to undo the beskar armor sometimes. In fact, throughout the entire duration of Mando’s shower, you’re able to quietly sneak up to the cockpit and navigate the ship out of the terminal, pull up the coordinates for the next quarry on the navcomp while rising to a high enough altitude above the galactic capital, make a jump into hyperspace, return to the hull, shut off the lights, and slither back under the covers before the fresher actually turns off.

Soon, Mando raps his knuckles against the door separating the two of you, and you’ve completely wiggled out of your clothes by that point, the blanket resting just below your naked waist. “Hey,” his unmodulated voice calls from behind the thick slab of metal. “Eyes closed for a second.”

“I’m not looking,” you agree, draping your elbow across the bridge of your nose and waiting patiently. He gives you a few seconds regardless before the door is sliding open. You expect it to quickly shift shut again, plunge the room back into pitch blackness like before, but he hesitates. It takes another moment for you to realize that he’s probably just staring at your naked chest while he stands there in the doorway, light spilling into the hull and illuminating you waiting for him with your eyes obediently shut.

“I thought I told you not to sleep on the floor anymore,” he murmurs after a quiet second, and you bite your lip and shuffle your shoulders impatiently against the floor, arching your chest out just slightly to entice him to come closer.

“Fuck that bed,” you breathe with your arm still pressed over your eyes, and your nipples feel tight in the cool air. “Your armory is bigger than that bed, Mando. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah,” he returns, finally shutting the fresher light off and shifting the door shut behind him, beginning to make his way over to you. “Tells me that there are more guns than people on this ship, as well it should be.”

“Maker, you’re impos—”

You’re cut off by Mando dropping to his knees and slowly crawling over your body, and fuck he’s as naked as you are, he’s naked and his skin is warm and damp from the shower and his hair is still dripping as you slither your arms up his chest and comb your fingers through it.

You can’t see a damn thing but you’re instantly thanking your lucky stars for that fact when his head drops down and a hot tongue drags up the curve of your neck. Okay, this is better. This is always better. Even when you can’t see a damn thing, feeling the hollow of your jaw be caressed by a blazing wet furnace and tugging your fingers through his hair will always be better than when he keeps the helmet on. Maker, you almost forgot how fucking good his mouth is, how soft and warm it is, and you can’t bite down a whimper when his lips finally trail up your chin and seal against yours.

You moan when his tongue gently slides into your mouth, unable to stop yourself as your cunt fucking throbs between your legs with arousal, and Mando even lets out a short huff of air through his nose and a low noise quietly slips through his vocal cords as he tastes you. The barely audible sound is enough gasoline to your fire that you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his lower back before tugging, wanting his cock pressed against your cunt so you can rub yourself against it while he kisses you.

Only, something in the way Mando’s elbows immediately buckle and the hiss of air through his teeth before he unceremoniously collapses on top of you makes you instantly let him go.

“Hey,” you say, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck and puff a short few breaths of hot air against your skin. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck,” he grunts, sounding somewhere between discomfort and legitimate pain, moving to prop his arms up next to your head again but taking a moment before trying to push himself up. “Back. Back hurts. Too—” he winces when his shoulder moves a certain way, “—too old for this.”

“Here.” There’s just enough space between you and Mando to wiggle out from underneath him, quickly turning around and swinging a leg over his back as he abruptly drops to the floor with the extra weight. “Let me rub your back.”

“Shit—come on,” he groans against the blankets. “I haven’t touched you in three fucking—”

Your hands trail up his spine, slow and gentle, and Mando cuts himself off. He shudders under your palms as they carefully push and roll into the small of his back, and the muscles curving down under your touch gradually rise as he breathes in a lungful of air. “Let me rub your back,” you repeat softly, letting your voice lull just a bit in a lower register, and all the air immediately releases from under your hands.

“Okay,” he relents, but his spine still holds straight and tight with tension.

“Okay?” You repeat, dragging your palms back up until they’re roughly in the middle of his spine. “Tell me if I go too hard.”

Mando barely huffs with a chuckle beneath you. “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell you if—nghh—”

You dig your knuckles into the dip right beneath his shoulder blades and start kneading, and Mando makes a strangled noise and sags into the floor. Your smile is almost impossible to hide, but the pitch black hull does the job just fine as you press and roll your knuckles into the hills and valleys of his back. The noises he makes are a mixture of soft gasps and chokes, but it gives you the perfect opportunity to explore his body in ways you haven’t been able to before.

Your thumbs you dig in and follow the curve of his spine down, squeezing through the tightness in his lower back. The skin under your hands is soft and giving, even though you can feel massive knots hidden underneath. You take all the time in the galaxy with it, isolating each ache and pain and then grinding your knuckles into them steady and hard enough to make Mando groan brokenly under the pressure. You work at it for a while, trailing your fingers up to his neck and massaging the base of his skull, not being able to imagine how much those muscles have to hurt after holding up a heavy beskar helmet every single day. Your hands explore everything you can from this angle—you squeeze the tops of his shoulders, slide your palms down and squeeze his biceps, the muscles under his elbows, the ones wrapped around his forearms.

“This alright?” You ask after a while, and you barely get a hoarse grunt from him in response. His body is perfectly relaxed under yours, almost dead if he wasn’t still breathing, and you slowly walk your hands down the length of his back until you’re braced upright on him once more. “You gonna make it?”

Eventually, he drags his forearms up so he can prop them against the blankets and slowly roll over underneath you. You allow the lazy movement, lifting your hips up as he rotates, feeling his smooth skin shift under your palms until he finally comes to a rest on his back.

“My turn?” He asks through the darkness.

“Your turn for wh—?” You gasp as his grip instantly tightens, and then he’s abruptly switching your positions until he’s on top of you. Almost all of your breath is knocked out of you when Mando grabs you and flips you over until you’re on your tummy, and then whatever remains suddenly whooshes out when he straddles you and plops down on your lower back.

“My turn to give you a massage,” he says, and you let out a quiet, “fuck—” when his palms land on your shoulders.

“Wait—” You pant, “—Wait, hang on, I don’t need a—”

Thank the fucking Maker you turn your head quick enough to muffle a loud moan when his fingers begin rubbing hard circles into your deltoids. Stars, sleeping on hard metal for three weeks was truly a nightmare for your posture. The knots in your upper back burn under the steady push and press of his touch, and it’s like your muscles can’t decide if they want to relax under the manipulation or tense up against it.

“Maker,” he murmurs, his thumbs frame either side of your spine and slowly drag downwards, and your voice almost cracks as you hide another groan in the pillow. “Why does your back hurt? What did you do to yourself?” “I slept—” you gasp when his knuckles roll up the length of your sides. “Slept—on that piece of fucking scr-scrap metal—you call a—” his fingers press firmly against the valley below your shoulder blades, and then widen apart to start squeezing your arms, “—a bed for three weeks,” you manage to gasp, sparks of sensation shooting down to your fingertips as he rubs the muscles along the length of your biceps.

Soon, Mando’s hands come back down to rest on the small of your back, and he begins digging his thumbs into the base of your spine. “Why did you do it for so long if it hurt?”

“You said—” You cut off with a moan into the pillow as he slowly scoots back until he’s sitting on your thighs, his hands moving downwards and kneading the soft flesh of your ass, pressing deep into the sore muscles while you struggle to remember what you were going to say. “Said you wanted me to sleep in y—”

His thumbs start slowly moving inwards, his large hands butterflying out along both cheeks and squeezing. He spends a second just grabbing and pulling your pillowy flesh, shamelessly spreading you and manipulating it until you’re throbbing between your legs again. He’s being so brazen about it, too, gradually moving his thumbs closer and closer together until they’re digging into the crevice.

“Hey, uh,” you pant, starting to tense up a bit as his thumbs begin moving downwards. “Ma—h-hey, you’re getting really… close to m-my…”

His hands keep steadily moving down, and you’re starting to squirm just a bit at the unfamiliar sensation of someone’s fingers pressing and kneading the unexplored skin between your cheeks.

“Getting real close to your what?” He drawls out from above you, low in his throat, and your cunt pulses with need.

Fuck, you’re gasping raggedly into the pillow, wondering if the absence would truly make him this bold. You’re halfway caught between nervousness and being incredibly fucking turned on, and the way he pauses right above your asshole and just holds there makes your the muscles deep in your lower abdomen twist in anticipation and heat. Fuck, you’re soaking the blankets beneath you, you can tell. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out across your body and it’s all you can do to just lay there and wait for it with bated breath.

But then his weight is suddenly lifting from you and sliding down the length of your legs, settling at your feet. You barely have enough time to let out a deep sigh—half of it relief and the other half… disappointment, maybe?—before he grabs hold of one of them, the size of it only slightly bigger than his hand, and firmly presses both thumbs into your arch.

A groan of approval slips through your vocal cords and you go practically boneless underneath him, not realizing how tense you just were a second ago.

“Fuck, that’s s-so good,” you murmur into the pillow, grabbing the blankets at your sides and fisting them subconsciously as he clamps his large hand around your heel and squeezes.

After spending just as much time and attention on the other foot, you feel him grip both your ankles and start working circles up the length of your calves with his thumbs. His hands flex against the backs of your knees when they get there, and then your breathing kicks back up again when they gradually drag up your subtly clenching thighs.

But then they come to an immediate halt about halfway up, and you have to bite back a huff of distress when he just holds there. Fuck, why did he stop? Why did he stop?

“Sweet girl,” he eventually breathes out, sounding somewhere between chastising and shocked. Your eyes flutter in the darkness at the tone, the endearment after nearly a month without it, and you wiggle slightly on the bed with arousal. “Is this…?” Mando brushes his fingers along the inside of your thighs, and you can feel the way his cock pulses as he presses it tight against your leg. It’s not until he drags his hand down to your calves that you feel the slick heat coating the tips of his fingers, wiping it off on your relatively dry skin.

The pitch blackness makes it impossible to truly tell, but you’re sure your eyes roll back. Stars, you are so wet for him, you’re leaking it halfway down your thighs. It’s been too long since he’s touched you. You can feel your lower muscles bearing down and coiling tight, your entire pelvic area now cramped up with need.

When his hand carefully moves up and a finger just barely ghosts over the soft flesh of your lips, you can’t stop yourself.

“Touch me,” you hear yourself suddenly beg, goosebumps breaking out along your skin while he begins to slowly trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down. “Oh, fuck—please, Din, touch me, I—”

“Hush,” he tells you softly, and fuck, he’s on top of you and you physically can’t do anything to encourage him to hurry up. The only thing you can do is kick one leg out as wide as possible and just shudder helplessly against the floor, trying to give his hands more room to work.

You feel desperate, your blood pounding through your ears as he takes all the time in the universe exploring you. “Stars, don’t do this—I need you to—”

“Hush,” he murmurs once more, before moving both fingers to spread your lips apart ever so slightly, your slick heat seeping out to coat his fingers and the blanket below. “Relax for me.”

Maker, your lower muscles are tightening down and throbbing in equal parts, and you just can’t relax, you can’t relax when you’re this close to cumming all over his hand even though he’s barely touched you. You’ve been aching for it this whole time, but now there’s a bite to it, a slow burn that begins to engulf the lower half of you in simmering heat. “Din, please, I missed you so m—”

You choke when you feel the slightest brush of a fingertip next to your clit, before he’s firmly pushing down and tracing a torturously strong semi-circle around the top of it.

Your toes curl and your body locks up and you gasp his name into the pillow, flexing every single muscle in your body in response to his touch until you’re impossibly rock hard with tension under him.

“Poor thing,” Din whispers, slowly tracing an arch back around the other way, and your entire body trembles with it. Maker, you’re soaking his hand, slippery and hot and every nerve from the waist-down feels sharp and exquisite at the same time. He leans down to press his lips to your shoulder blade while starting to rub strong circles around your clit. “All alone for three weeks, nobody around to look after you. Make sure you’re seen to.”

You’re not sure which way is up right now, and not being able to see anything isn’t fucking helping either. You feel dizzy with sensation, shaky as his tongue slowly drags up your skin, and you actually feel water rush to your eyes in torment when he pulls his hand away.

You open your mouth to beg him not to stop, but then he’s already moving. Grabbing your hips and slowly lifting them until your knees have to shuffle up to compensate. He still keeps your head buried in the pillow, though, still keeps the upper half of your body firmly pressed against the floor. You pant into the fabric half covering your face and fist the blanket underneath you, biting your lip and clenching your thighs as two hands carefully settle along the backs of them.

Fuck, he keeps you there for so long. He drags out the anticipation until you’re downright hurting for it, waiting with your ass up in the air for him to do something—anything to help relieve your stress instead of continuing to build upon it.

“Fuck—” he whispers, “—missed you, too.”

When his hot, velvety tongue finally glides through your slit, something about it makes you moan brokenly into the pillow, spread your knees and arch your back even more in presentation. Fuck, there’s just something about the mindblowing eroticism of your positioning right now, how you’re bent in half and letting him lick through your folds however is easiest for him, something about it hits just right and makes your orgasm suddenly pull up tight and fast.

“Din—” you breathe frantically, your knees shuffling apart and your hips pushing back against his mouth. “Din, I’m gonna cum—”

His hands come up to clamp around your thighs and hold them steady. And then he lowers his chin to seal his mouth over your clit, slowly dragging his slick tongue over it, again and again and again, and fuck, you can’t do anything to stop it. Everything surges up, searing hot and wet as you go rigid and gasp his name, shuddering your way through the debilitating bliss as it arcs brilliantly up and down your spine.

By the time you’re finished, you’re slumped against the floor in exhaustion. He pulls away and sits up, and you try to push yourself up too, but a large palm firmly flattening along your spine stops you. The sound of him spitting and the subsequent slick glide of his hand around his cock makes you groan hoarsely against the pillow and relax back down again.

Din eases his way inside you and the thickness of him as he slowly breaks you open is fucking electrifying. Your sensitive channel hugs tight to every fucking inch of him, lighting your nerves up from the inside and sending skittering shocks down your thighs. You melt into the floor and take what he gives you until his hips touch your ass, sagging against the ground as he stands so tall and upright on his knees behind you.

When he slowly pulls back out, you can hear the wet sound it makes echo throughout the pitch black hull. Maker, he just starts up a slow, steady rhythm, his steel grip on your ass holding you steady as he pushes in and out of you. It’s blinding, making you writhe against the floor while he gives you his cock at a languid pace, dragging the pleasure out but snapping his hips against yours whenever he does reach the apex of his strong thrusts.

It’s as agonizing as it is blissful, and you moan softly into the pillow the entire way through it. Except—you’re too full of mindless pleasure, too stimulated to want to remain stationary for this long. You need to move, you need to show him how much you thought about him while he was gone.

“Din—” you whimper, breathless and needy, turning your head back slightly to unmuffle your words. “Turn over.”

“In a second,” he huffs, his cock continuing to steadily rock into you. You’re bent in half, taking it the only way he’ll give it to you and not even being able to push back into him. “No—l-later. After.”

You whine, frustrated, clawing and pulling at the blankets under your arms. “Please—”

“Fuck,” Din pants, “fuck, what do you need? You need it faster?” His speed kicks up the slightest bit, and stars, you have to bite the back of your hand to muffle the ragged noise you make in response. “This what you need? Tell me.”

There’s not a good way to phrase it. Mostly, you just… feel the need to participate in this more directly. You know from experience that he likes to finish when he’s on top, but after weeks apart, you… you need to be what makes him cum, not what he holds steady and uses to get himself there.

Your voice comes out frantically, pleading gasps for him to grant you this one thing. “Just turn over, please—pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

His thrusts falter, until they stop completely. He sounds like he’s having as much trouble breathing as you are, but his hard grip on you gradually loosens. “You—do you not—?”

You don’t let him finish. As soon as he lets you go, you’re pushing yourself up and turning around, grabbing his shoulders and all but wrestling him down to the cushioned blanket. Din grunts and lets you do it, dropping down onto his back and snaking his hands up your naked chest as you climb over him with weak, trembling limbs. Once you get his cock into position and sink down though—fuck, you grab his wrists and yank them up until his palms are cupping your tits, and Din hisses below you. Your hands are barely large enough to wrap around the backs of his, but you force him to squeeze them nonetheless, and then you begin to ride him in earnest.

He curses, bracing his feet against the floor and shifting his knees behind you, and then he starts pushing his hips up into yours in time with your downward rolls. Maker, he hits something deep inside you at the angle, something that makes you gasp every time your hips meet. Your palms drag down his wrists and forearms as he keeps groping your breasts, throwing your head back in ecstasy as another orgasm starts to stir somewhere low in your core.

“Stars, I—I think I m-might—” You barely have enough time to gasp it out before he’s releasing your breasts and anchoring his grip tight to your hips, beginning to angle and isolate in on that one spot that drives you fucking crazy. The strong thrusts pull you forward until your palms are braced on the floor next to his head, and you just moan and push back against it as he fucks deep into you.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Din says again, his disembodied voice sounding tighter and more desperate in the darkness, like it’s coming out against his will. “I—I missed you, t-too, sweet girl, I f-fucking—missed—”

You choke out a cry as another wave of euphoria all but fucking evicerates you. Your elbows buckle and you fall into his chest, but Din wraps both arms around your back and keeps fucking you through it, gritting breathless curses at the ceiling as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Tho—ught about you—” he groans, husky and low next to your ear, “every… fuck, every fucking day—thought about y—”

His body tenses and his thrusts stutter to a halt, and then he grinds up into you, gasping your name into the pitch black hull. Your body is crushed into his chest when his hips jerk against yours, and you bite his shoulder in satisfaction, squeezing hard around his throbbing cock.

When Din finally settles back down to the floor again, both of you are spent. Neither one of you fucking move. You don’t say anything while you catch your breath against his chest, slumping down into him as his knees suddenly drop flat.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck. I’m. I’m never taking a bounty on Coruscant again.”

You laugh lightly, swallowing and turning your head to settle in the crook of his neck. Your knees shuffle up slightly until you’re resting all your weight on top of him, his cock still engulfed in your hot center. As soon as you lift off him, you know you’re just going to dribble a mess all over these nice blankets, so you decide to put it off for as long as he allows it.

Din doesn’t seem to have a problem with it at all. In fact, his chest shifts just slightly beneath you when he reaches down to catch one of the blankets and pull the fabric over the both of you, collapsing back into the pillow with an exhausted sigh and doing absolutely nothing to encourage you to move whatsoever.

“Corellia was worse,” you tell him instinctually, and he grunts and brings his hands up to trail his fingers along your lower back.

“Corellia was over within a day,” he points out, and. Shit. You know he’s just being diplomatic about it, but something in the way he casually brushes it off suddenly makes you go quiet. He’s right, you probably weren’t on Corellia for more than a few hours total. Not that you necessarily expected him to, but he clearly doesn’t realize the events that took place there have haunted you for weeks.

When you don’t immediately say something in response, Din stops dragging his fingers up your spine. You can feel his chin lower slightly, his jaw brush against your forehead. “You oka—?”

“I killed someone on Corellia,” you whisper, and your words hang heavy in the still air immediately afterwards. “A man is dead because of me.”

He doesn’t speak. For a long time, Din doesn’t speak.

By the time his voice eventually does come through the darkness, you’d almost convinced yourself he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“You’re right,” he tells you bluntly, brushing your hair back from your shoulder. And, for some reason, you’re not expecting it. If you were able to get a verbal reply out of him at all, you… you hoped he’d argue with you even just a little bit, if only to make you feel even the slightest bit better. “A man is dead, and you killed him.”

Though his voice is soft and you know he’s not being intentionally cruel, it’s like he reached through your ribcage and crushed your heart himself. Your shoulders tense at the feeling, wanting to instinctively curl yourself inwards and make yourself smaller in response to it. Only, Din’s broad chest prevents it. All you can do is hide your face as best you can in his neck and let the unfiltered truth weigh heavy on you in the silent hull.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” he eventually says. “He’s not dead because of you. That implies you had a choice. You didn’t. He’s dead because of him. He gave you an ultimatum, and you did what you had to do. Don’t feel bad that you won.”

“I didn’t win anything,” you whisper against his throat, uncomfortable with the implication.

“He initiated a confrontation, and you finished it,” he asserts. “You did what you had to do, and you did great, so don’t—”

“Great?” You close your eyes and try not to sound as upset as you currently feel, because you know this is just him being polite. He does this for a living. He’s probably lost count of how many people he’s killed in his lifetime, so what’s one body to him? You shouldn’t have let the conversation lead here, especially after such a lovely moment. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it—”

“Listen to me,” Din suddenly says, curling the tips of his fingers against your shoulder blade. “There’s something you need to understand, and I’m not trying to hurt your feelings by telling you this. But the galaxy will never be as kind to you as you are to it. You’re tenderhearted, and that’s not a bad thing. Hang onto it, but recognize that it’s rare. It’s not something that you’ll come by often. You’ll never see as much of it in anyone else as I see in you.”

Maybe it’s because you know he’s not used to comforting people that the words actually manage to make you feel somewhat comforted. They’re blunt and honest, but they also allow an unobstructed glimpse into his feelings for you, specifically because of that.

“I just…” You bite your lip and snuggle your head deeper into the crook of his neck. “I just wish I could… somehow…”

His chest expands fully with air underneath you, and then you can literally feel yourself slowly sink down a few inches with how deeply he sighs. But… this isn’t the normal Mando sigh. He doesn’t sound frustrated with you, exasperated, or impatient. He sounds… empathetic. Understanding.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head and comb his fingers through your hair, tugging at some of the tangles at your nape. “What would you have done differently?”

You don’t answer him, because you immediately see what he’s getting at. You’ve told yourself these things a million times over in the weeks he’s been gone. Regardless, he goes on for you.

“Would you have chosen to land the ship in a different spot? Risked a different person following you onto it?” He asks, and though the overarching point to this line of questioning is already blatantly obvious, his voice is still kind. “Would you have taken that vibroblade to a different part of his body? Given him a slower death? What else would you have done, sweet girl?”

You stay silent, fluttering your eyes shut. His fingers lazily trail up and down the length of your spine, goosebumps breaking out on your skin once again.

“Even if there was something you could’ve done—even if his death had been your fault,” Din murmurs, “—listen, do you remember what you said to me? When I told you my name—before that, do you remember what you said? You said that some things just belong to people. That there are certain things that people just own, right? Fundamentally. And you can do whatever you want with them. You can choose whether or not to share them with others, you can hide them, or you can. Change them. Burn them away. Remember?”

You nod as much as you can with your head buried into his neck like this.

“Well, you’re right,” he continues, his voice softening. “Some things do belong to people. But some things… some things you can’t change. Some things you can’t hide, and you can’t just burn away forever. But that doesn’t make them any less yours, understand? You killed someone. It doesn’t matter what I tell you, or what you tell yourself. The end result won’t ever change. It can't change. You own that now, and you’ll carry his death with you. Just like I carry every single one of mine.”

He’s… he’s right. You don’t have to like it, but he’s right.

“I don’t like it when you quote me to me,” you eventually whisper, your lips brushing his throat.

“Too bad. I got another one for you,” Din rumbles, and you can feel his gentle smile against your hairline as he tilts his head and presses his lips to your temple. “The Way says no take-backs.”

You narrow your eyebrows into this perfect little corner of him, not liking how curt and unapologetic it sounds rolling off his tongue. “Did I say that?”

“Yep,” he huffs at the ceiling. “Half-asleep, yet observant enough to be annoying.”

Your mouth twists, trying to appear visibly offended in the pitch blackness for some reason but fighting back a smile. “Would you rather I be oblivious and adorable?”

“No,” he says immediately, and then you blink a few times in the darkness at the sincerity in his tone. “You’re smart. Well—you’re an idiot sometimes, but you’re smart. That’s good. That’s your best weapon. Use it.”

“Use it?” You ask, your voice quiet but curious. “For what?”

He takes a second before responding, his fingers continuing to trace gentle, subconscious shapes along the curve of your spine. “What planet are we going to next?”

The abrupt change in subject is stark and immediately noticeable, but you wrack your memory for the coordinates you brought up earlier when he was in the fresher nonetheless. “Naboo.”

“I was thinking,” Din says, shifting just the slightest bit under you. You groan when you realize his cock is still inside you, soft but still gorgeously thick enough to not slip out. “Might… might be a good idea to show you some things. Give you a few self-defense tips before I head out again. Naboo is one of the safest planets in the galaxy. We can… take a few days.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, a spark of excitement bringing an immediate smile to your face.

“Yeah,” he repeats softly, the scruff on his jaw rubbing against your temple as he nods. “Been awhile.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip on a grin and try not to let him hear the happiness in your voice. Fuck, a few days. A few days he’s delaying his job to spend with you. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep on an actual mattress at some point. You truly can’t fucking wait.

You two stay like that for quite a long time, just resting and breathing with each other in the pitch black hull.

“We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia, how about that?” You find yourself saying after a moment of comfortable silence. When Din doesn’t speak, you elaborate. “You asked me what I would’ve done differently. We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia. Avoided the whole fucking sector altogether, like I plan on doing for the rest of my life.”

And then your whole body abruptly jerks up and down exactly once with his genuinely amused huff of laughter from underneath you.

Your expression immediately narrows. This is the third time you’ve ever made him laugh in all the months you’ve known him, and somehow all three of them have been at your own expense. “What’s funny?”

“Absolutely. You could’ve—” he clears his throat, “—convinced me. Not to hunt down a bounty.”

He doesn’t make a sound beyond that, and had you not been laying on top of his chest as it subtly vibrated with stifled chuckles, you wouldn’t have known at all that he found that to be so funny.

“I could’ve… wooed you,” you try after a second, and nope. You feel like you’re on top of a silent, quaking faultline now, and you do your best to keep a frown on your face as you rock back and forth on top of him. His cock almost slips out of you in the commotion. Almost.

“Get some sleep, you sweet talker,” he eventually sighs when he calms his breathing, kissing your forehead and settling back down into the blankets. “The kid will be up in a few hours, probably less.”

“He’s your son,” you grumble, still sulking somewhat at his blatant disregard of your seduction talents. “Takes after you. For all I know he looks just like you, too.”

“Sleep,” Din tells you, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your head and push it deeper into the crook of his neck. “That’s enough talking.”

You stomp down the playful urge to bite him and settle into him instead, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Fuck. A few days on Naboo. You’ve only heard nice things about the beautiful planet. You wonder if it has an ocean. Could a planet be called beautiful if it doesn’t have at least one? You’ve seen rivers and lakes on planets Din has taken you to, but there was always land on the other side. You’ve never seen an actual ocean before, you’ve only heard about them. Water, as far as the eye can see. There has to be an ocean on Naboo, right?

“Hey Din, are there any—”

“Stop.”

It’s alright, you’ll ask later.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fanfic #reader insert #no-droids #rough day #smut

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definitelybarnes · 3 years

Text

Old Fashioned Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your first date with Bucky is as cozy as the bar he chose.

Warnings: Social drinking, first dates, fluff.

Authors Notes: This little piece is written for @eurynome827’s 2k challenge! Thank you very much for hosting and for allowing me to join. Congratulations on your milestone🎉 ! My prompt was: An old fashioned in an oak paneled-dimly lit bar.

English is not my first language, please pardon my grammar and spelling errors and kindly point them out to me if I’ve made any. :)

The cab pulled up outside of the quiet bar your date had chosen for tonight. You paid the driver and thanked him, getting out and taking in your surroundings. It was a small village, a small community of people who knew each other really well. And fortunately for you, you had met Bucky here almost two weeks ago. He finally asked you if he could buy you a drink and you couldn’t wait to get inside, knowing he was sitting somewhere on the other side of the oak door.

You’ve been to this little bar many times in the past, celebrated many happy events here. And each time you cross the threshold, a warm giddy feeling pulls on your heart strings and it’s just like home. You’re surrounded by nothing but oak. The paneling on the walls is oak, the bar is made from oak, the floor is oak and the tables and chairs are also oak. It’s your heaven, oak is the most beautiful wood you’ve ever seen.

The low soft music greets your ears as you walk in, as does the local chattering from the locals and the occasional hissing from the beer pumps behind the bar. The wood is crackling in the fireplace, taking away the bitter feeling from the cold and replacing it with warm and relaxation. Your eyes scan the room until they eventually land on the bulky muscled man sitting next to the fire with his hand in the air and a smile on his face.

“Over here doll!” He calls out, making you flustered under the stares of the other locals. You excuse yourself as you shimmy past some of the tight spaces and feeling relieved when you reach Bucky, greeting him with a hug.

“I hope this place is okay?” He chuckles nervously, pulling your seat out.

“This place is great! And you picked the best spot.” You grin, rubbing your hands together and hold them close to the fire.

“Yeah well, I had to beat a drunken old man to get here first.” He laughs lightly, “what do you want to drink?”

“I’ll have a whiskey! Let me grab my purse.” You reach into your bag when Bucky stops you.

“I’m buying.” He smiles, standing up and heading towards the bar. You take a moment to marvel at the atmosphere in the bar. It’s relaxing, the locals looked relaxed and you’re sure it’s because the lights are turned right down. The soft glow from the roaring fire and the candles doing the job it’s meant to.

Bucky returns to your table with two whiskeys and some snacks minutes later. From the times you’ve met him, he’s looked tired and a little stressed out. But tonight, he looks just like everyone else: relaxed and comfortable.

“Thank you!” You take the whiskey and slowly sip it, the liquid burning the back of your throat. “So how long are you in town?”

“A couple of weeks, a couple of months. I have no idea at this point.” He chuckles, chugging the drink down in one and your eyes widen. “Oh, the alcohol has no effect on me.” He clarifies, noticing your expression.

“I’m just impressed. If I did that I’d be on the floor.”

“And I’d be here to pick you up.” He winks, opening the bag of something you couldn’t read and sticking his gloved hand inside the packet. He offers you the packet and you do the same. It’s salty and crunchy, something your thirst won’t appreciate later.

“You’re so charming.” You grin, taking in his appearance. You’ve never seen a man look so good in a leather jacket before, until now. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you wanna know?” He asks, crunching the salty snack. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Oh come on, I beg to differ. You caught my interest. I wanna get to know you.”

“My favorite book is The Hobbit...” you leaned your elbow on the table and rested your chin in your palm as you listened to every word that spilled from his lips. You listened intently, holding onto to every detail.

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thirstyforcharacters · 3 years

Text

When the Universe Collides (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Summary: Every person has a soulmate. When your soulmate experiences pain, so do you, and any bruises, scars, or other markings that they get appear on your skin. Or, the story of how smacking yourself in the face with a cabinet was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Notes: Hi! Since the first episode of Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out today, I wanted to write something for Sam! He’s super underrated and deserves more love! Also, this soulmate AU is extremely self-indulgent and has absolutely nothing to do with the TV show, but tbh I don’t care. Hope you all enjoy it too! (no y/n, no pronouns) (PS: any italicized text is Sam texting and the italicized and bold text is the reader texting!)

Warnings: mentions of a stab wound (nothing explicit), cursing I guess

WC: 2.2 k

Your soulmate must have one hell of a job.

Almost every day, you woke up with dark bruises covering your body. It seemed that whenever one faded, another took its place. At completely random times, you would double over in aches that you certainly didn’t inflict upon yourself. One time, in the middle of the night, you woke up with pain in your stomach so intense, it felt like someone had stabbed you! It turned out that it was a stab wound, but given that no one had stabbed you lately (or ever), you figured it was from your soulmate. You definitely didn’t appreciate that hospital bill.

But you still desperately wanted to meet them. Meet that person that completed you: your other half. As a teenager, you made your parents tell you the story of the day they finally met so many times, you knew it by memory. They were both in the library at college, and your mom dropped a psychology textbook on her foot! Her howl of pain was only matched by the “SON OF A BITCH” that came from your dad on the opposite side of the library. When the two of them made eye contact, they instantly knew they were the ones for each other (they were also immediately kicked out for making such a ruckus). You wanted to have that moment so badly; meeting your soulmate was a huge milestone in every person’s life, and you needed it.

Your best friend and roommate, Brianna, had met hers just two months ago. They had met at the beach, when out of nowhere, Bri had shrieked in shock and pain.

“A crab just pinched me!”

When you had looked at her foot and told her nothing was there, she was totally confused, until you saw a handsome guy with a crab hanging from his foot! He had introduced himself as Julian, and the two had been inseparable since. He was living with you now, and you had honestly never felt more lonely in your life. Sure, you had your dream career; you ran a music shop in New York City, selling instruments, making repairs, and meeting all sorts of interesting people. You had a decent apartment, a chill best friend, and the cutest Yorkie, named Muffin, on the planet. By all accounts, you had it pretty good. You were just missing your other half.

It was a rainy day in NYC. The chill of winter was still clinging onto the March air, and you shivered as you trudged from your apartment to your shop. Even though you had an umbrella to protect you from the rain, the wind blew right through the too-thin jacket you yanked off of the coatrack in a rush. Still holding your half-eaten toaster strudel in your hand, you pushed open the doors to Major Instruments and Minor Repairs, your pride and joy.

It was two floors: the first was where you sold instruments, and the repair shop was above. Acoustic panels were attached to the burnt red walls to help quiet down the place, since the hardwood floors didn’t do much to help with that. The checkout desk was directly in the center in the room. Surrounding it were reeds, bottles of valve oil, and guitar strings. Picks were placed in two clear, plastic bowls on the desk itself. In the front left corner of the room was a grand piano, situated right in the window so passersby could see whenever someone plucked its keys. The entire back wall was covered in guitars and basses. To the right of the desk was a large drumset, accompanied by a pair of drumsticks and brushes. On the right wall were string instruments; string basses and cellos were leaned against the wall, while the violins, violas, and bows were displayed on it. Woodwind and brass instruments were scattered across the room in various display cases. Instrument stands, bow rosin, and miscellaneous instrument parts were on shelves throughout the room as well. The spiral staircase leading up to the repair shop was in the back left corner of the room. Behind the staircase was the door to the back store room, where you kept your extra supplies and also where you took your breaks.

“Good morning!” called Andrew, one of your closest friends from college, from behind the desk.

You waved in reply, wandering to the back store room. You were lucky you had Andrew; you could rely on him to run the front desk while you and Brianna assisted customers on the floor. Unfortunately, Bri had the flu today, so it would just be you on the floor, which would make things a little more hectic. You hurriedly finished your strudel, took off your jacket, which left you in a black and white flannel, a matching black tank top reading “Music is Life,” black leggings, and black combat boots (you had an aesthetic to uphold), and strode back out to the main area.

“You seem in a bit of a rush. Everything okay?” asked Andrew, who was currently restocking bell covers.

You sighed, “Just a whirlwind of a morning. Bri has the flu, Muffin nearly choked on a chicken bone, I almost burned my toaster strudel, and I smacked myself in the face with my cabinet door by accident.”

“Oh, that’s where the new bruise on your eye is from,” he mused.

You snorted, “Yeah, for once it’s not from my soulmate.”

“Maybe he’s a spy. Or a superhero!”

“Yeah, or a criminal,” you joined in on the restocking, grabbing some trumpet mutes since the place opened in just half an hour, “thanks for opening up, by the way.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied, “you know I don’t mind.”

The doorbell jingled and two of your instrument repair people, Sarah (for strings), and Natalie (for brass), entered. Natalie was lugging what was unmistakably a tuba case, while Sarah carried both of their instrument repair kits.

“Morning, ladies!” called Andrew.

“Good morning,” Sarah replied pleasantly.

Natalie huffed out a “morning” and dragged the tuba up the stairs.

“Her tuba’s broken. The tubing that holds up her mouthpiece completely snapped off. She’s going to try and repair it before her appointments today,” explained Sarah.

You winced, “That’s rough.”

Sarah dropped off both of their jackets and followed Natalie up the stairs leaving you alone with Andrew again. Soon after, Erik, your percussion guy, and John, the woodwind repairman, arrived, and it was time for the shop to open. For a while, it was just another mundane Thursday. Customers came and went. People tested the piano and drumsets, someone bought $100 worth of jazz scores, and a teenaged boy came in who somehow got a ping pong ball stuck in their trombone (you learned to never ask). But at exactly 1:47 pm, a time you would never forget, two very unexpected customers walked through the threshold of your store. You were up on a ladder, carrying a large, rather heavy, box of violin bows to situate on the wall, when you heard their voices.

“I’m telling you, Buck, I’m a wizard at the saxophone.”

“Sure, Sam. I’ll believe it when I hear it.”

“I’m serious, dude! I played all the time before I joined the military, and I picked it back up a little bit again after the whole Avengers thing. I just need to get a new one.”

“Hmm, okay. We’ll see.”

“Bastard.”

You whipped your head around and saw the Falcon and the Winter Soldier themselves in your shop. Having superheros in your place was a first. And who knew Sam Wilson played the saxophone?

Andrew offered them a cheerful greeting and directed them toward the saxophones, which happened to be near the ladder you were teetering on. Every time you leaned up to put a bow on display, it wobbled so badly you thought you were going to fall. You really needed to allocate some funds toward a new one.

As you continued to place bows on display, you heard the conversation of the two gentlemen browsing the saxophones. Apparently, Sam much preferred the tenor sax (which you happened to play, quite well you might add). Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him pick up a Selmer Paris model and inspect it. Those didn’t come cheap, but you were sure that saving the world gave a man a pretty decent paycheck.

“You think I can test it out?”

“I don’t know, dude. You should probably ask.”

You saw him nod, “Yeah, I guess so. And there’s not a reed in here, anyway. Excuse me!”

You realized he was calling you, so you craned your head to look at him. Both men were looking up at you, both with kind smiles on their faces.

“Is there any way I can get a cheap reed to test this out with,” Sam asked, “and are we even allowed to test them in store?”

You smiled back, “Yes, you can. We have test reeds at the front desk, just ask Andrew and he’ll give you one. That’s the only one you’ll get though.”

“Cool, thanks,” he replied while looking around, “nice place you’ve got here.”

Your smile grew a little wider, “Thank you! It took a little while to get it off of the ground, but I’m really proud of how it turned out.”

It was almost as if the universe wanted you to suffer. You stretched up to display yet another bow, and the ladder toppled to the ground, taking you with it! You shrieked in surprise and braced yourself for the impact with the floor.

But it never came.

Instead, you were caught in a pair of (ridiculously) muscular arms. When you looked into the arms of your hero, of course it was Sam himself. He was too handsome for his own good. The thing that stood out most to you were his deep brown eyes. And how, on the left one, was a bruise that exactly matched the one that you gave yourself this morning.

“Are you alright? That ladder must have it out for you,” joked Sam, though you could tell that he was concerned for you.

“I’m okay,” you squeaked, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem. All a part of the job.”

You nodded distractedly, still fixated on the bruise adorning his eye. He couldn’t be your soulmate, could he?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned.

“I-yes. I just got a bit, well, distracted.”

“By what?”

Well, it was now or never. You might as well just go for it.

“When did you get that bruise?”

He looked a bit surprised by the question, “The one on my eye?”

You nodded.

“This morning. It just popped up. Hurt a little bit, like something hit me in the face. Can’t be worse than what I’ve given my soulmate, though. I got stabbed in the stomach once and all I could think about was how confused and hurt they must’ve been,” came his reply.

It was him. It had to be! All of your random, serious injuries made so much more sense now.

“It did hurt,” you murmured back, “but not as much as the hospital bill.”

His face went from apologetic to elated faster than you had ever seen, “Wait, that means it’s you?”

“I think so,” you said, “I hit myself in the eye with a cabinet door this morning, and that-” you gestured to his face, “matches mine.”

“Oh, it does!” he exclaimed.

“Are you two done over there?” complained Bucky.

Thankfully, the Winter Solider had successfully rescued your box of bows.

Sam stood you up, and you could feel the embarrassment slowly creeping over you, “Yeah. Sorry about that, guys. Promise I’m not usually that clumsy.”

“Seems like you need a new ladder,” Bucky told you.

“You don’t say,” you sassed back, prompting a laugh from Sam.

Bucky then strode off to return the fallen box to Andrew. He gave Sam a knowing look as he passed by. He wasn’t very slick, though, you totally saw him.

“Listen, since apparently we’re soulmates and all, I’d love it if I got your number. I’ll take you somewhere nice to make up for all of the times I’ve gotten you hurt,” explained Sam.

You smiled bashfully, “That sounds nice.”

He handed you his phone and you input your digits. As Sam and Bucky were in the checkout line, your phone buzzed.

Hey, gorgeous. It’s your new man.

You giggled softly and looked up at him. He gave you an exaggerated wink and launched finger guns at you, making you laugh a bit harder. You entered his number into your phone and decided to send a text back.

Looking forward to you making up for all of those broken bones.

Me too.

You knew you’d be happy with him. Whenever the universe collided in this way, it always turned out for the best. If your parents and your roommate weren’t enough proof, soon you would discover it for yourself. You couldn’t wait for all of the memories you’d make together.

#sam wilson #falcon #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #soulmate au #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader fluff #x reader fic #marvel #MCU

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

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home for christmas | mitch rapp

word count; 10,665

summary; mitch is happy to settle down with the simple life, and he just wants to celebrate christmas with his fiancée, for the first christmas he’s had home since before he joined the army.

notes; I know this isn’t stan’s farmhouse in the movies, but this is the kind of farmhouse I picture them having, so you’re just gonna’ have to use your imaginations!

warnings; smut, thats about it.

“Mornin’, soldier.”

Mitch simply huffed, a smirk forming on his face as he rolled over, raising his brows a little, sleep still evident across his face, the crease from a pillow being pressed into his cheek, the red mark disappearing into the dark stubble-smattering on his jaw, and you reached out a hand, rubbing over it as he blinked himself a little further awake. “Not anymore, sweetheart. You think if I was still a soldier I’d be getting to sleep in this late with a pretty woman by my side?”

“I should hope not, you were with me for the most part, so if you had another pretty woman in your bed, you should fess up now. I’d hate for that to come out on the altar.”

He growled, rolling you over until you were pressed back into the bedding, nipping a little at your shoulder as you broke out in a fit of giggles, albeit strained as the weight of his frame pressed into you, 200lb of solid muscle crushing you lovingly. “Don’t even insinuate it.”

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled, a hand threading into his hair, and the teasing nips became soft kisses pressed to your bare skin, and he eventually gave up, rolling onto his side, and letting you cuddle up into his side a little, exhaustion no longer claiming either of you, but laziness in the bliss of the morning was. “Merry Christmas, Mitch.”

“Merry Boxing Day.”

“Technicalities.” You whispered, pecking at his cheek, the closest spot you could reach, before you were pushing yourself to it up a little more, legs crossing on the mattress, and stretching your arms up above your head to loosen the muscles.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” You repeated, head rolling from side to side, before you were shaking yourself down slightly and revelling in the numbness slipping out of your bones and muscles as energy surged through you instead.

“That pathetic excuse for a good morning kiss.” He tapped at his lips, pouting them slightly, brows raising as he watched you move to press your feet to the cold floors, standing up only a moment later. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back here and kiss me!”

“Nope. If you want kisses, you can come and get them.”

He gaped, watching you disappear into the bathroom, and you ginned to yourself, hearing the floorboards of the bedroom creak from a room over, running your toothbrush under the tap as you squeezed a dollop of the paste onto the bristles, raising your eyebrows at the man behind you. He had braced himself on either side of the doorframe, large shoulders and tall stature all but filling it, messy bedhead and unshaven jaw making him a vision of morning laziness, and he raised his brows at you as he returned your stare, a smile on his face as you scrubbed at your teeth.

Pacing across the bathroom, he pressed you up against the counter from behind, hands finding the edges of the sink as your hips pushed up to the cold porcelain, and he hooked a chin over your shoulder. One hand came up, on the other side of your jaw, twisting your face towards him, and you lifted your brush down long enough to press your lips against his, hearing him hum happily finally got what he was after. Your lips moved softly against his, a slight foam build-up getting stuck in his stubble as your mouths worked together, but neither of you could find it within yourselves to care, the first kiss of the day still feeling just as special as it had the first night you’d stayed a night together, all those years ago.

When he pulled back, he licked at his lips, wiping away the froth stuck on the spiky hairs around his face, grinning a little, and pecking a kiss to your temple. “You taste minty.”

“Of’ious’y.” You mumbled, the word getting confused in translation through the workings you were doing, but he raised his brows at the sass, gasping slightly, and you grinned, spitting and rinsing, before turning to look at him “Captain Obvious over here.”

“You’re sassy this morning.” He teased, pinching at your ass and snickering as you yelped, smacking away his hand and fixing him with a false glare. “Don’t be so sassy on Christmas.”

“I thought it was Boxing Day?” You retorted, watching him roll his eyes fondly, and as you wandered back into the bedroom, you noticed that he’d made the bed, blankets pulled straight, and you appreciated the gesture

“It’s our Christmas Day. Is that really what your Christmases were like these last few years?” His hand found yours from the second you had a jumper pulled on over your shoulders, tugging you toward the staircase and down the rickety steps that were in urgent need of repair, but those weren’t on the list yet.

So far, the two of you had made some pretty grand progress on the house that you were now calling your own. Your father had returned to duty, and you were in charge of renovating an old farmhouse, and making it truly liveable once again. The broken pipes, squeaky doors and splintering panels were no longer cutting it, and in the couple of short months since your lover had returned from the front lines, and stayed here with you.

The first week after your father had left, had been entirely spent in bed, properly celebrating the engagement you’d made, the way it should be celebrated when you were young and in love. The following month and a half leading you up to where you were now had been spent planning, clearing out the junk of old furniture and stripping the insides of the house, all the work you couldn't do alone, finding yourself now with a partner.

The porch was being extended into a wrap-around, and the outside had been stripped. The flaking paint had been sanded off, the wood underneath smoothed and repainted, before the weather had turned too cold and wet, glazed over and perfected, an off-white colour that complimented the darks of the landscape around it. Mitch had spent almost a week straight fixing broken and cracking tiles on the roof, a week when your heart had leapt into your throat every time he went up the ladder, fearing that he’d fall or injure himself, and yet the real injured had come inside.

As the final fall warmth had slipped away and the bitter and biting cold had started to come in, you’d thrown out all the moth-bitten and broken furniture inside, plans to replace it all, and sell what you deemed worthy, raising funds for the major project you’d undertaken. Splinters, torn nails, and grazes from tripping over and scraping your knees and elbows on rough flooring. However, it had all been worth it, and you shivered a little as you stepped into the kitchen, feeling the squeeze on your hand, before looking up to the man standing behind you.

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What dd you say?”

“I said, is this how you always spent your Christmases for these last few years?” The sounds of the kettle filling up as it sat on the top of the old gas stove sounded the metal clanging a little as it filled, the two of you waiting patiently over the racket, before settling it over the flame to begin heating. “Y’know, celebrating late, the video calls, all that?”

He was referring to the real Christmas Day, yesterday, having been spent waiting for the time when you’d get to talk to your father over a somewhat glitchy video chat call for your twenty-minute slot, having no idea when it would actually be. “Yeah, pretty much. Except, for the last few years, I had to do it twice.” You poked at his stomach as he stood before you, a grin on his lips, before he was catching your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss over the ring shining on your finger.

“Funny, to think that for years, I’ve been excitedly waiting to facetime my superior’s daughter, just to get a Merry Christmas and a kiss through the screen while I was out in the middle of God knows where, defending our country, and we never even knew.” His arms looped your waist, pulling you in close against the cold of the late December chill in the air, and your own arms wrapped around his neck. You leaned in, enough that he thought you were going to press a kiss to his lips, before you were lifting yourself up, and standing on his feet, grinning when he grunted, before he was looking at your curiously. “What’cha doing, kitten?”

“The floor is cold. I don’t want to stand on it.”

“Well, it would be considerably less cold if someone had just picked which tiles they wanted before the store closed over Christmas, I could be getting on with installing them, and we would’ve had heated kitchen flooring by New Years.” He tutted, lifting you to sit on the counter as the kettle began to whistle, and he worked around you to fill up the teapot on the side with the perfect brew, two mugs being gathered from one of the cupboards, before it was being pressed into your hands.

“I wanted real stone! All the samples of tiles just didn’t seem right, and-”

“And you want to have a rustic and authentic farmhouse feel, I know.” He finished your sentence for you, heat flushing your face at just how many times you must’ve said it for I’m to have memorised the statement, and he chuckled, letting you hope down and back onto the cold and stripped flooring of the kitchen to make your way to the table. The scraping of the wooden chairs over the flooring rang out, and you sat in beside him, blowing the steam away, and picking up one of the catalogues that were stacked up, opening it up to the last dog-eared page and taking a look at it all. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Despite asking the question, Mitch was already rattling around in the drawers for a frying pan, seeming to have made up his mind on what he was going to eat, and so you hummed a little, sipping at the herbal mix in your mug. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Eggs and bacon it is, then.”

You only nodded, unsure whether or not he could see you, but you weren’t looking at him, falling into a comfortable science together as you examined the conversions and extensions laid out on the glossy pages before you. The sizzling and popping of the eggs and bacon faded into the background, ideas swirling in your mind as he worked, the cogs brushing off the dust as you took in what you were seeing.

Most of them were small conversations, sheds and garages, all with ideas on how to save heating and conserve energy, but your mind was wandering your own home. You’d already done so much, knocking through the wall of the small guest bedroom beside your own to turn it into a closet, and tearing up the flooring in the downstairs of the house, to replace it with newer and polished solid oak slats. How much harder could be building a wall, and converting something a little bigger than a shed?

A plate landed in front of you, making you jump in shock, before the magazine was being pulled away from you, and the smell of the meal was enticing you in. “Should I be concerned that you spend more time looking at renovation magazines than wedding ones?”

He was smiling as he spoke, no heat to his words, but you scoffed nonetheless, tapping your finger against another pile of magazines, and you felt as though your entire house was spilling over with them, filling the house in piles from top to bottom. You had more magazines than yo id furniture at this stage, the small and slightly dull Christmas tree in the corner being a sad excuse, an old TV propped up on cardboard boxes and cushions along the floor with a blanket put down, the rest of your ‘living room; being barren, waiting for its decorating to be complete.

“Have you even chosen a dress, yet? I already have my suit.”

“I’m excited to marry you, Mitch, I really am. I couldn't imagine anything that would make me happier, but that is one day of our lives. The best day, but just one day. This house is where we’re going to live, it’s the future you want, and where we’ll grow old. If something goes wrong on our wedding day, that sucks, but we’ll fix it.” He paused his chewing, staring at you with wide eyes across the table, before swallowing his mouthful thickly and reaching out with one hand to lace your fingers together to sit atop the wood. “I want our home to be perfect.”

“It will be, we’ll take our time.”

You smiled, letting him mirror the action, squeezing his hand in your own, before pulling your hand back to pick up your cutlery, and beginning into the meal he had made. “For the record, I have a few dress ideas.” You tapped the cover of one of the furthest magazines from yourself, the pages worn and folded, evidently having been used, and his brows shut up, a grin on his face as he ate.

“Can I see?” A few crumbs flew from his mouth as he spoke through the food stuffed between his cheeks, and you tried to hold in your chuckle at the sight.

“Please don’t do that at our wedding.” You grimaced, and he swallowed his mouthful, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, the playful manner between you both being more than comfortable, it was perfect, and you kicked at his shin under the table as he wiggled his brows cheekily. “No, you can’t look at them, it’s bad luck.”

“Don’t be superstitious.” He scoffed, pulling the magazine over to himself, and holding it out of your reach when you leaned across the table to snatch it back. “Besides, it’s bad luck to see the bride in the dress before the day, not to see some random model in a dress.”

“Yeah, well, don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

His eyes flicked down, smirking a little at the swell of your breasts hanging from the robe your wore that was falling open the more you reached to get the brochure back, and you gave up on that tactic, rounding the table instead to try and grab it from him. He scooted back, the chair legs scraping against the bare concrete floor, a loud laugh on his lips to match the giggles you were letting out as the war became a game.

“Mitch! If you keep this up, I’ll purposefully buy a really awful dress! Something from the eighteen hundreds with frills and layers, and I’ll look like Little Bo Peep!”

“Baby, I’d marry you even if you were wearing a potato sack.” As you reached for the folds of paper, he snatched your wrist in his other hand, tugging you into him until you were perched across his lap, a leg dangling on either side of his on the chair, and he wrapped that same arm around your waist, connecting them behind your back to hold you securely, and your own looped his neck. “But, please don’t wear something with frills and layers and a thousand buttons, because it’ll make it way harder to have our first dance if I can barely reach you over a puffy gown.”

“I’ll wear something a little bit more modern, then. I’d hate to miss our first dance.”

You brushed the tip of your nose against his, lips brushing together as he smiled, and you heard the magazine drop away to the ground, before both hands were splaying out over your back, and pushing you closer, until your chest was pressed to his, and you were looking down at him, sharing a breath. “Besides, kitten, don’t you think you should wear something that I’ll be able to get you out of easily when we get to be alone, afterwards?”

“Well, I think I should get something cheap, because I have a feeling you’re going to rip it.”

He growled under his breath, catching your lip with his teeth and tugging gently, before pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth, hands moving down to sit on your ass, as he pressed another kiss to your jaw, and then your cheek. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Not tempting, I just know you too well. If previous experience in pretty gowns is anything to go on.”

He chuckled, nodding his head, before wrapping his arms around you fully, face resting in your neck as he settled in to hug you, prompting you to squeeze yourself a little more firmly around him in response, a hand coming up to brush through the long and messy tendrils of hair on his head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mitch.”

Your food was growing cold, half-eaten and still sitting out, but you were much more invested in soaking up every second of the loving embrace he was offering you, and so you were more than happy to remain this way, wrapped up in his arms, for as long as he would take it.

The time slipped by, mumbled conversations taking place, and the hands on the clock ticking over the o’clock marker and beginning the afternoon, the late lay in that the two of you had indulged in giving a glorious delay to the day. Lazy and relaxed, it was exactly how you wanted to spend your late-Christmas, and when he finally shifted to check the clock himself, he merely huffed, the hot breath fanning over your neck and making you twitch a little as it tickled, and he loosened his hold on you to let you go.

“Do you still want to have a Christmas lunch? I can set everything off, but it’ll be more like dinner with this timing.”

“I think it’ll be fun to have it later, we can eat while watching movies. We can drag all the blankets and cushion we still have down onto the floors and make it cosy.” He merely nodded, before standing with you still in his arms, stealing a final kiss from your lips as you giggled, the grip on your thighs loosening as you sank to the ground, finding him now looking down at you, lips pressing to your forehead once he let you go. “Go light the fire in the living room, it’s a little cooler today. We should get the heating going earlier.”

“You got it, soldier.”

He smiled bashfully, nudging you towards the empty doorway, knocked through to make it all more open plan, and you could feel his eyes still lingering on you a little as you wandered through to the main room. Settling before the cold fireplace in a comfortable position, you assessed what you were seeing before you, noting that it was filled with old ash, days having passed since the two of you had emptied it. Dragging out the collecting tray underneath, you tipped it into the bucket, the edges stained, trying not to let the dust escape into the room too much, and tipping it carefully so that it didn’t cloud in the air.

While the house did have heating, it had all been disassembled and the heaters taken from the walls for the renovations, the two of you seeming to have missed that when planning your work to take place inside over the Christmas period, leaving the house cold unless you lit the fire.

When the grates were clear once again, You began to scrunch up the pages of the old newspapers and letters that were no longer in use, creating a range of tight and loose balls of paper form them, and beginning to stack them in the fire. Small kindling followed, twigs and little chunks of wood, coal to follow, to keep the heat going for longer, burning quietly. It didn’t take much longer of patting around yourself and searching to find the matches, the almost empty box being revealed to you, and with a single strike, a flame was taking up at the end, and you buried it within the pile. The newspapers took a light quickly, flames roaring up within seconds as they burned brightly, the paper becoming ash after only a minute or two, but it had been long enough for the smaller wood to catch.

The flames were duller, but the heat was already beginning to pour off of the fireplace as the smaller wood caught fire, crackling a little as it went, the black chunks of coal starting to smoke slightly, turning ashy grey where flames touched, and there was no way it would go out now. Adding some logs on top for a longer burn and more enjoyable smell, you deemed it a job well done, wiping your hands clean on the rag hanging beside the fireplace, and placing the grate over the front, hauling yourself up to stand.

Eyes closing in on the ash bucket, you were tempted to leave it there, but foreseeing the accident of tripping over it and spending house cleaning up ash was more than enough to motivate you, the images flashing behind your lids when you closed them. Mitch was tinkering in the kitchen, the dull clashes of pots and pans, the sink occasionally switching on and off, hearing him shuffle around and chop as he prepared you both a meal, and you moved across the room, swapping your robe out for one of his hoodies and a coat to combat the cold air.

Grabbing the bucket and taking it with you, a shiver ran down your spine at the cold air that swept over you from the second that you stepped out and onto the porch, the swing bench squeaking as it rocked in the slight breeze, and you looked around for a pair of boots. Tugging on wellies for the trek through the slippery mud and frosty grasses to the compost pile at the end of the first field, you set off towards it, arms tightly wrapped to your body to seal out the heat.

A short walk all things considered, but it felt like miles in the biting cold, and your fingers were trembling against the cold metal of the bucket as you tipped it all out, stomping it down a little with your foot and covering the dry dust over so that it wouldn't blow away all over the place, knowing just how good it all was for the fields.

The two of you hadn't quite decided what you wanted to do with the land yet, but you still had plenty of time to make up your minds. Mitch wanted to go for the full traditional farm life, with animals and agriculture and the whole shebang. You wanted to take a more modern turn, with pretty gardens and orchards, maybe grow fruits and vegetables, something simpler but not requiring the work that potatoes and pigs would take. After all, it was just the two of you, right now. That little collection of books and leaflets was still sitting unopened, the two of you having agreed to leave that decision until after your house was finished, and everything else was settled, instead of burdening yourselves with too much at once.

As you made your way back, you took in everything around you. While the area may look a little barren and empty right now, you had big plans for it all, the house being the main feature, standing out like a sore thumb as it looked beautiful and prominent with all it’s redecorating in opposition to the abandoned and somewhat desolate landscape around it, even the barn still needing redoing.

Placing to bucket down on the edge of the porch, you spun, hands tucked into your pockets as you considered the tall wooden structure.

It hadn't been used much since your grandparents had owned the farm and all of the land around it, keeping it traditional, back when there had been a tractor and plough that would park inside with hay bales and spare supplies, all of which would contribute or the farm, but had eventually broken or been sued up, never replaced. You could barely remember what it was like inside now, not having been in there since you were a child, your father telling you all about how he’d play and hide in here when he was a child, but your memory was fuzzy.

As you approached it, you found chains locked tightly through the weakened handles on the chipping wood, a large coded padlock keeping them closed, and you smirked to yourself a little, lifting the freezing metal up to examine it. The numbers were almost worn away, yet still just enough visible for you to work with, and you tried your birthday on it, finding that the lock didn’t budge. Your birthday had always been your father’s passcodes and passwords, a fact you’d discovered when you were twelve and never told him about, so you had unimpeded access to everything, but clearly not this.

Despite your peaked curiosity, you had almost given up, before remembering that this was your grandparents’ barn, and likely still had their code on it unchanged from when they realised their son was going into the army, and wouldn't run their farm. Trying your dad’s birthday, the lock popped loose, enabling you to untangle the chains and leave them hanging open as a muffled ‘aha!’ fell from you. The doors were heavy as you pulled on them, large wooden frames that were stiff from years of disuse. The hinges were rusted, and so you were just about able to get one open enough to slip inside, the musty smell of farms and equipment overwhelming your senses, bringing back memories you didn’t know you had forgotten from when you were a child.

There was lighting, but you didn’t think it would still work, flicking your hand over the switch, and as expected, they didn’t light up. The stairs were damaged, floor was strewn with old hay and broken equipment, useless bits of equipment, and you could see just enough of it all from the gaps in the wood that served as windows. It was large, even larger than you’d remembered, the wooden framework appearing smaller on the outside than it was on the inside, and the pipes along the walls were broken.

Following the trail along, they met at a sink in the corner of one room, a large bathtub that was caked in mud, and you assumed that it had always been the place where your grandparents would wash up after a hard day’s work, before going back up to the little farmhouse, as not to trail mud through the home. The wood of the walls rattled slightly, doing nothing to keep out the cold as some wood even began to give way, looking as though it was in desperate need of repair, but a little TLC would go a long way into transforming the space.

Upstairs was far more exciting, or it had been, when you were younger. The balcony overlooked the lower floor, a higher platform where the centre missing to look down on the main floor, and you’d loved to play hide and seek up here when you were barely above hip-height on your father, feeling like an adventure just for going up the steps. The bannisters and barricades were snapped and broken now, years of misfortune taking them, but it was a simple fix. The space would be infinitely better once all the leftover crap had been hauled out of it, and it was stripped bare for renovations.

You were wound up in your thoughts, jumping a little as the main door scraped some more, your lover squeezing his way inside, looking around the lower floor, before dragging his gaze up to find you at the top of the steps. A warm coat wrapped around him, feet shoved into wellies like your own, pyjamas pants ruffled from the action and he looked adorable, a grin taking over his face as he looked at you.

“Thought you’d be up in your closet sorting out our clothes and keeping warm, or something. Didn’t expect to have to hunt you down in a barn when the temperatures are dipping so low.”

“It’s freezing out here, right? There’s absolutely no insulation in here.” He chuckled, unsure of where that statement was going but watching as you came darting down the steps, and meeting you halfway, producing a hand from his pocket to take your own, fingers weaving together, before he was hiding them both back in the warmth it had once been, holding you tight to his side and following your gaze to look around. “It would be better, with some insulation and panelling.”

“Much better, I agree.”

“If we did it up real nice, painted it like the main house, it’d make a pretty great living space, don’t you think?” He hummed, eyes narrowing as he looked around, clearly not seeing the same thing you are but not wanting to voice it, and you grinned, the hand that wasn’t joined with his and tucked in his pocket waving in front of yourselves. “It has a water supply, so there could be a kitchen and bathroom down here, in the far corner, and some couches. A TV set up, a little coffee table, a whole load of nice rugs to keep the floors warm. Upstairs, a bed, and all the storage, a simple but effective living space.”

“I guess so, but we don’t really need it.”

“Of course, we don’t.” You bumped your shoulder against his, and he lifted his arm up, keeping his hand held with yours but letting you snuggle under his arm, instead, drawn close to his body for warmth. “But, it would be great for dad. He’s not home a lot, but it would be a great place for him to know he can come back to when he’s not on deployment, and inevitably retire to.”

A warm laugh bubbled up beside you, the man shaking a little as the sound rumbled from him, and you turned to face him, quirking a brow. “We’re kicking your dad out of the farmhouse, now? He’s not gonna’ like that.”

“Yeah, well, we’re going to need privacy when he’s home.” You poked his side lightly, watching a cheeky expression filter over his features as he stared out at the barn, cogs working inside his mind as he began to picture it like you were, and you turned to look at it all yourself, mentally constructing the perfect home for your father. “Besides, his room and the guest rooms might want to be something else, someday.”

You heard his breathing hitch, his gaze locking not you, and two fingers hooking under your chin to turn your gaze back to him. He choked down the lump in his throat, seeming a little nervous, nibbling on his lower lip before finding the words. “Do you mean as, like, baby rooms? Nurseries and kids rooms?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He let out a shaky laugh, sniffling a little as tears lined his eyes, your brows furrowing as you twisted to face him, bringing your hands up to his cheeks and cupping them, using your thumb to wipe away the first tear that fell. “We’re going to have our own little family? I get to have that, with you?”

“Oh, ‘course you do, honey.” His vulnerability was making you emotional yourself, tears burning in your eyes at the bright expression on his face, and he pressed a series of needy and quick kisses to your lips, between short gasps of breath, wet cheeks and lashes sticking together as he did, unable to contain his smile.

“I’ve always wanted kids, my own family, to be a dad.”

“I know.” You whispered, fingers stroking delicately over his skin as he still trembled a little under your touch. “You okay?”

“I’m so much better than ‘okay’. Every moment with you just gets better and better, I’ve never been this happy before.” You stood for a few moments longer, before the chill was becoming too much, and he was dragging you back to the main house, pausing only to redo the lock and chains on the rickety barn doors. It had a lot of work to do, but you had more than enough time, not planning to have a baby any time too soon, too much for the pair of you yet to do, but the day would come along one day, and now, you had a plan.

As you reached the door, kicking off your boots together and standing them up neatly, he took your coat for you, hanging it up inside and sealing the door against the cold, your skin tingling ad the warmth of the house embraced you, and he rubbed his hands up and down your arms, pressing a kiss to your head as he stood behind you, warming you up a little, and you wiggled your toes in your socks as you regained the feeling within them.

“We have a couple of hours to kill before dinner is ready.” He mumbled, the feeling of his voice vibrating along your skin making you grin a little, ticklish assault drawing giggles out of you as you tipped your head back a little further for him. He took the access granted to him, wet mouth closing further over soft and exposed flesh, his teeth beginning to join the mix, scraping enough to make you shiver. “Any ideas on what we could do?”

“Yeah, I have a few..”

He hummed happily, hands on your hips to turn you around, until your nose was bumping against his, and he could flick his tongue out just enough to tease at your lips, a smirk forming on his face. “What did you have in mind, kitten?”

“Something dirty, we haven’t done it in a while. We can get all the stuff out.”

“I like where this is going.” He whispered, leaning down to catch your lips with his, whining when you pulled back enough to keep him chasing, puckered lips forming a growl as you denied him affection. You gave in, leaning in enough to peck at his lips, dragging your kisses along his cheeks as you cupped his face in your hands, and he let out a soft and breathy laugh as you did.

“Is that a yes?”

Your lips were brushing the shell of his ear, and you flicked your tongue out a little, just over the shell, feeling him tremble slightly underneath you in response, fingers flexing against your hips. “Absolutely it is.”

“So, you agree? We should do some cleaning?”

He huffed, pulling back, an unamused look on his face as he stared down at you, and you beamed up at him, thoroughly entertained by the way a moody was look was flashing over his features, and he pouted, not wanting kisses but instead wanting attention instead, and his hands pulled away, dropping down to his sides as you laughed at him.

“Oh, c’mon, baby. I’m just messing with you.”

“It’s Christmas.” He mumbled, grouchy as he tried to readjust himself through his pants, an uncomfortable look passing over his face as he did, and it only made you giggle more. “You’re not supposed to be a tease at Christmas.” You dragged your hands over his chest, pushing one up until it was tangling in the grown-out hairs that were deeply in need of some brushing and cutting, nails scratching at his scalp. Despite how much he wanted to keep up this act, he was already beginning to crumble, head leaning a little to press into your touch, and features softening the more you soothed him.

“It’s always a good time to be a tease, I have to keep you on your toes. Keep it exciting!”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes and bringing his hands up to find your cheeks, pulling your mouth up to his. It wasn’t the kiss you were expecting, it was a lot softer, more romantic and passionate, his tongue never dipping out to find yours, but simply your mouths working together in sweet and delicate exchanges. Thumbs were brushing over your skin, rubbing calming patterns and you sighed out happily against his mouth, stepping in closer until you could feel the warmth radiating from him, barely an inch between your bodies, and you wondered how it was possible that after all the time you’d been together, he still managed to make your heart race like this.

“I love you, Mitch Rapp.” Your words were whispered into his mouth, and he nodded his head, not breaking away long enough to return the words, before everything about the moment was changing. Sweet and romantic was crashing into a burning inferno of passion and need, teeth nibbling at your lower lip as he tempted them apart, wet articles tangling together as the desperation between you arose.

Hands were circling around to your back, lower and lower along your body, until he was taking handfuls of the fleshy mounds of your ass, pulling you in so close that your breath was knocked from your lungs at the impact of colliding, arching up into his chest with each drag of blunt nails over your covered skin. His bruisingly tight grip was making you whimper just at the touch, and his mouth continued to dominate over yours, a delicious attack that was leaving your lips stinging and raw as you kissed him back with equal force.

The moment that his hands slipped to your thighs, his legs bending as he braced himself, you took your queue, familiar with the unspoken signals between you both by now, and your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted you into his arms, your own looping his neck. He was able to navigate the home expertly by now, knowing his way around without even a single hitch, and the first you knew of it was when your back was meeting cold sheets.

You gasped, arching up into him, and with the break in the frantic kisses came hickies along your neck. A wet mouth, descending along your skin to suck at your neck, teeth teasing and lips sucking until you were so tightly wound up with need that you thought you may burst at any moment.

He took his time, marking you up as though the two of you had all the time in the world, and while technically you did, you wanted to rush through to the main event, the drawn-out build-up making your head spin as it drove you wild, needing to feel him more than you wanted to simply imagine it. There were times when the foreplay excited you, when you’d spent hours kissing him, teasing him, rocking your hips down into his lips he was doing to you now until every part of you was sparking with excitement, making every touch he gave you even more thrilling.

This wasn’t one of the times, though. This was a time when you needed him now, when you needed to be joined to him in the most intimate way that you possibly could. You weren’t sure why, maybe it was just because it was the most wonderful time of the year, festive activities and jovial emotions heightening everything. Or, maybe it was the revelations that had come to you today, the two of you planning for your future always made you overflow with adoration for him, because he was committing himself to you in every possible way he could.

Every inch of your skin felt itchy, like you craved to be connected to him with every fibre, each cell in your body lighting up with the need to connect, and with your legs locking around his hips, you flipped him over, until he was staring up at you through wide eyes, cheeks flushed and a smirk painted in place of his usual endearing smile.

Your hands found the hem of your jumper, tugging it up and over your head, throwing it away to the floor as you felt like you were burning up with heat, and he sat up quickly enough to be able to help you with your t-shirt as that was next, lifting over your arms once you had it over your head.

“Y’know, I usually like to be the one getting to undress you.”

“You were taking too long.” You retorted, your hands dragging along his stomach, finding the hem of his shirt, and he raised his arms up over his head to let you peel it from his skin, hot to the touch as your fingertips as you traced the faint scars and hairs littered along and between his pecs. The muscles jumped under your touch, and you pushed him back down into the bedding, a breathless chuckle sounding from him, and he bent his arms, propping them under his head. The veins along his biceps made your mouth feel dry, and you leaned down, the tip of your tongue tracing along one until it disappeared at his shoulder, and you placed a kiss there, feeling him twitch a little at the featherlight touches.

“Forgive me, darling. I was trying to make it romantic.”

“No, you are getting back at me for being a tease.” You whispered, using one finger to push his head to the side, and he growled a little as you did, the sound cracking and breaking off as you sucked against the pulse point on his neck. His heartbeat was racing, the patch of skin throbbing as you worked to leave a large mark on his skin that would glow dark purple for days to come, and his breathing went shallow as you worked at the patch.

It was rare that ever let you have control enough to leave lovebites on him, the marks you littered on his skin were usually red marks along the skin of his back or nail prints on his shoulders, bite marks littered along his flesh as you tried to quiet yourself. It was the same way he would to you when you got so desperate that he’d fuck you wherever you were the honeymoon phase of your relationship lasting right up to your actual honeymoon, the two of you still driving one another crazy by a single lingering glance.

It was exactly how you knew that he was the one, that he meant the world to you and would always be your other half, because no matter what, the love and passion between you never dulled.

“Maybe I was getting back at you a little bit, but does that make you think you can take over?”

“Maybe it does.” His hands found your hips, and you rocked in his touch, grinding yourself back along the strained length that was tenting his sweatpants, and he bucked up into you as you did. Every roll you made back along his length, he met you with an equally forceful thrust, moans beginning to leave you as the pace picked up, and your fingers were curling into fists within the bedsheets as you simply tried to control yourself. “Fuck, Mitch..”

“Well, that’s exactly what we could be doing.”

He flipped you back over, and undignified and unaccepting sound on your lips as he took the power once again, the battle between you both becoming more erotic with every twist and turn of your bodies. He kissed all the way along your chest until he could sip his tongue below the hem of your pyjama pants, hot breath fanning over your skin, before he was peeling those down your legs.

You stood, sinking to your knees slowly as you dragged his sweatpants and boxers down his body, hands massaging your way back up his legs, fistfuls of his round ass making him jump, groaning under his breath and cheeks flushing pink at the attention that you gave to his body, the blush spreading right along to his chest. Kissing along his hips, he tangled a hand into your hair, stealing your thunder because as the strands were tugged, stinging against your scalp, you were putty in his hands once again.

Instinctually, your mouth fell open, a wicked look flashing across his features as he pushed the head of his cock between your lips, that dripping tip being all he let you have to begin with. Sealing your mouth around him, he let out a string of appreciative noises in the forms of curses praise, your tongue dragging over his slit, a moan rippling through you at the salty taste of his precum spreading through your mouth.

You focused your attention there, tongue swiping and circling him, making sure his skin was soaked, and as you made to sink down further, he pulled away, wet cock smearing across your cheek and his thumb slipping into your mouth instead.

As you suckled on the digit, his fingers spread out over your neck, tips digging into the flesh, and your thighs clenched together, rubbing needily to try and quell some of the fire threatening to burn you up.

“You horny, baby? You need my cock, hm?”

You nodded, knowing he didn’t want you to use your words to reply, and he let out an approving sound as you did, pulling his thumb back, and sinking his index finger between your cheeks. This time, as you lapped at the finger, he continued to go, prodding back until you were gagging around him, tears lining your eyes and you were certain that the panties you were wearing would be ruined, because the feeling of being so completely and utterly under his control was something that always made you crazy.

He cared for you, he was dedicated to you, and every single time that the two of you had been together, he’d given you his sole focus, making you the most important thing in the world to him at that time, giving you everything you wanted, and now, you wanted to care for him.

“Want t’ make y’ feel goo’.” Your words were muffled, his brows raising, and he pulled the wet finger back, trailing over your skin and leaving it wet as he tipped your head up to look at him. He was prompting you to repeat yourself, and you licked at your lips, smiling at him a little as you tried to steady yourself. “I wasn't to make you feel good.”

“Trust me, kitten, I always feel good.” There was a smirk on his face, and despite having no instruction to do so, you scratched your way lightly up his thigh until you were taking his cock in your hand, pumping him slowly. His jaw dropped, eyes fluttering to half-lidded when you squeezed, and he thrust lightly up into your hand to meet you. “Mhm, good girl, just like that.”

You grinned, hand shifting further down, and you took him back into your mouth. The hand in your hair loosened a little, going lax as he relaxed under your touch, eyes sliding closed as your mouth worked along his length, sinking further and further down with every bob of your head. When you no longer needed to pump him, reducing him to a grunting and moaning mess above you, your hands were finding his thighs, gripping on tightly enough to leave imprints of your nails in the solid muscle.

Your cheeks hollow, sucking along his length tightly, and the vein along the underside of his cock throbbed along your tongue as you flattened against hit, a moan echoing through you and vibrating along is length, the fingers in your hair twitching. “Touch yourself, baby.”

Your eyes snapped up, finding that at some point he had lifted his head to look down at you, brows raised, and he lifted one heavy arm to brush the hair back out of your face, gathering a more competent ponytail out of your hair, a firmer grip, and he began to control the speeds of your movements once again. You adjusted yourself, legs widening when his foot tapped against the insides of your knees, and your hand slipped down to prod at your folds.

You moaned around him once again as your fingers brushed over your swollen clit, his hips bucked up and into your face and making you gag around his length, and he nodded approvingly as he watched you begin to please yourself. Working slow circles over the nub, electricity shot through your body, and you let him guide your head slurping and sucking at his cock, wet and filthy as you pleasured him, and the sounds he was making above you were enough to fuel your own bliss.

Working your fingers in tandem with the pace of his bobbing, the feelings racing through your veins was enough to dull the ache in your jaw and hide the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks as he tapped continuously at the back of your throat. Wetness was building up, slick pools within the cotton of your panties that were making it hard for you to move as the material restricted you, and you whined at the lack of available options, wanting more but unable to obtain it.

“As much as I love getting to watch you swallow everything I give you, that’s not right now. I want to fuck you first, kitten. Get up here.”

As he pulled you off of his cock, your head tipped back to face upwards, strings of saliva snapping as his shining cock pointed upwards, angry and red and needy for a climax, and you took gasping breaths, clambering to your feet on shaking legs as he supported you. Hooking his fingers into your panties, he snapped the elastic against your skin, and you grinned, turning in his hold and ignoring the huff he made, because he was moaning loudly a second later.

Pressing up and into him, you bent at the waist as you dragged them down your legs, wet core rubbing along the length of his cock, and he gripped at your hips, one hand smoothing across your back halfway through standing up, keeping you bent over. “Y’know, I was going to do this romantically. Fuck you real good, wrap you around me, kiss you while you came. But now, I think I want you on your hands and knees.”

He placed a rough spank to both sides of your ass, a cry sounding from you before he was pushing you toward the bed, and you stumbled a little, kicking off the panties wrapped around your ankles to be able to crawl back onto the bed. The mattress dipped underneath his weight as he crawled up onto the space behind you, groping at your ass, the head of his cock sliding through your folds and gathering in your wetness.

He lined himself up, cock stretching your entrance as he sank into you, and your forehead dropped down to your folded arms, a loud whine of his name being all that sounded out into the room to accompany the dragged out sound he was making, pleasure surging through him.

As soon as he was fully encased within your walls, he gave you a moment to adjust, and when you were ready, you began to rock your hips back into him. It was slow movements at first, rocking your hips into him, small circles as you adjusted. His large girth always required you having a minute to acclimate, and he was more than happy to waist, but by the flexing of his hands on your waist, you could tell he was scarcely holding himself back from going wild.

“You can go. Please, Mitch, I need it.”

He chuckled, pulling back almost entirely out of you, setting a slow and steady rhythm. “I know you do, sweetheart, I can feel it. You’re clenching around me so tight.” Your walls fluttered at his swords, the raspy voice in which he praised you was enough to make you whimper, sounds muffled as you bit down on your lower lip, and he tutted. “Did I tell you to be quiet? You know how much I love to hear all those pretty noises you make.”

He pinched your side, making you squeak a little, before a hand was wrapping around your middle, and pulling you up until your back was pressed to his chest. Fingers spreading out wide over your stomach, the other slipped up to your throat, pressure being applied lightly, and the rhythm of his hips was becoming more aggressive and deep with every second that passed. You were squeezing around him, every roll of his hips that slammed into you with enough force to drag against your sweet spot made broken calls of his name sound out.

“If you want to be quiet, though, maybe I’ll keep you quiet, huh?” His fingers tightened, squeezing enough to make your vision spot, and you cried out his name, but it was barely a whisper when it was voiced.

You tried to move back into him, meet his pace, but he was slamming his length in and out of you with motions that you couldn't keep up with. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, no thoughts able to be processed as the inside of your head was chanting a mantra of his name, alongside begs and please that you weren't even sure what for.

Reaching a hand up behind you, you held onto him, hand in his hair and tugging, until you could twist your head to catch his lips. It was a messy and rough kiss, all tongues and teeth, pent-up need and pure love shining through as the two of you fucked your way right through your connection. You almost missed the hand on your stomach slipping lower, until he was rubbing uneven and jagged patterns onto your clit, your entire body jerking as you crashed into your orgasm.

He choked on his breath, biting down roughly on your lip as you clamped around him, and the peak caught you both off-guard. You Cried out, both in pleasure and pain, and he released your lip from his touch, licking soothingly over the patch and whispering an apology into your mouth while his eyes rolled in his head. Your foreheads were pressed together, and when you became too weak to hold yourself up anymore, your body dropped forwards.

Your cheek pressed to the mattress, and he followed after you, one hand beside your head curling in the sheets as the other held onto you with a vice-like grip, sloppy pounding and erratic thrusts making you claw at the bedding. The overstimulation was too much, and tears were once again finding your eyes. Those screams you’d denied yourself earlier were coming to claim you in full ails now, his name a loud sob on your lips as the coil in your stomach continued to wind up, fire burning over you.

Your entire body was sparking with energy, and as he stiffened above you, pulling himself out, you collapsed down into the bed. You were still twitching, body hanging on the precipice of your second climax, and you were granted it only moments later.

Two fingers, slamming into you without warning, pumping so quickly that stars flashed behind your eyes, and your throat was raw with the sudden scream that you let out. Our legs thrashed, arms cramping and knuckles aching with how hard you gripped into the bedding, riding through your peak on his hand.

“Mitch! Hold on!”

“Again.” He hissed, giving you only a seconds reprieve as he flipped you over, a hand on your stomach to hold your hips down, wet fingers finding your weeping hole again, and your cheeks were stinging with tears as a pleasure so strong began to wash over you that you forgot how to even breathe. “Are you going to come? You are, I can feel it, walls like velvet grippin’ me so tight.”

“Please!”

“Please what, kitten? You want my cock, that how you want to come? Want me to fill you up, fuck this pretty little pussy full of cum, huh?” You let out a ragged moan at his words, barely able to nod your head, and he pulled his fingers back, hands spreading over your thighs to push our legs apart, settled back into the dip and sinking his cock back inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his hand trapped between your body as his fingers, soaked with your arousal stayed nestled against your bud, rubbing frantic circles onto it as you ascended into the clouds.

“Oh, fuck, Mitch!” With a final shout, you came, the bedsheets around you soaking as you gushed, hips bucking up wildly and body spasming in the bed, his form crushing you as he found his own high. Bliss was encasing you both, a bubble that only the pair of you existed within, and as ropes of hot cum filled you, he collapsed down on top of you.

He licked at your earlobe, lips brushing your ear and you shuddered, whimpering at the electric racing through your body from the action, your fingertips tingling, and he was still sitting snugly within your walls, throbbing and leaking with the aftermath. “I love you too, kitten.”

Your heart beat strongly, arms wrapping around him as you laughed weakly, catching his lips in a light kiss. It was gentle, just enough to confirm everything that had been shared between you both, before the sticky and wet feelings around you both were growing uncomfortable. He lifted you up, your body shaking as he slipped out of you, an ache that you were accustomed to taking place, and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before standing up. He offered you his hands, helping you to stand too, and your knees almost gave out on you as you peeled yourself away from the sodden covers, the remnants of your final orgasm still dripping down your thighs.

“Go clean yourself up, baby doll, I’ll grab you some clothes.” Heat flushed along your body as something thicker than your own cum was leaking along your skin, smearing between your thighs with every small step you took, and you could hear mitch shuffling in the bedroom. The wooden floors were cold under your foot, every foot chilling you back down a little more, shivering a little with goosebumps, and your body was relieved to sit back down as you reached for the paper roll, cleaning yourself up and slumping into the seat.

Washing your hands and smoothing down your hair, you felt considerably cleaner, almost as though you were drunk as you continued to float through the skies on the high that being with your fiancé had given you. When you returned, still a little wobbly but much more stable, he had stripped the bedding and replaced it, a more Christmassy set than before laid out in its place, and he had pulled on some clothes.

Padding his way over to you, you raised your arms lazily, letting him pull on a fresh set of clothes, before shimmying you into some pants, giggles and laughs muffled between kisses and gasps when you stumbled, before finally, you were cosy and dressed again.

“That was awesome.”

“Bet your cute little ass it was.” His hand found yours, tugging you along behind him and into the corridors, the smell of the meal that was being made for the two of you floating around, and you let out a groan as yous stomach rumbled. The scent grew stronger as you moved through the house, enticing you deeper and deeper, and you stood beside him as he began to check everything over, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I had a thought about the wedding.”

“You could sound more optimistic about that.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and pecking your lips in confirmation. “I can’t wait to marry you, love. You know that, I’m just not sure how you’ll react. I know you’ve been looking into places for the wedding, and we’ve gone to look at a few venues, but none of them really felt right. Right?” You hummed, eyes narrowing to him a little, and he busied himself with poking at the turkey to check whether it was done, nudging the over door closed again. “Well, what if we had it here?”

“Like, the farmhouse here? Because it’s kinda’ in shambles at the moment. A lot of work left to be done.”

“Well, yes and no.” He sighed, still avoiding your eye a little, and you tried to shuffle a little closer towards him as he worked. “Not in the farmhouse, but what if we had a summer wedding? Something simple. We could have it outside, picnic benches in the fields when they fill up with daisies and dandelions. You’ve sent me some pretty pictures of those fields before. We could do it picnic style.”

His voice trailed off a little as he spoke, and you could tell he was beginning to doubt himself, and so you pressed up behind him, arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to the patch between his shoulder blades, feeling him relax a little under your hold. “I love it.”

“You do?”

“You’ve let me make every decision about our wedding, our house, and our future so far. You deserve an equal say, and if you want a picnic-style wedding on the farm, then that's what we’ll do. I think it sounds lovely.” He twisted to face you, hands holding onto your cheeks and thumb smoothing over your skin, a stare fixed on you that felt as though he was boring into your soul.

“I just want us both to be happy. I don’t have an opinion on a lot of it, my interior design choices are limited to bunk beds and camo.” His joke made you scoff out a laugh, brushing your lips against his.

“That’s okay, soldier, I can make the tough choices on paint colours.” He rolled his eyes, closing the gap for only a moment, and you relished in the loving touch he held you with. “Oh, my bad. You’re my farmer, now.”

“That I am.” He mumbled, a few more shirt kisses pressed to your lips, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go choose a movie, I’ll plate us up some dinner.”

You lit up, and he seemed to see it sparkling in your eyes as his lips pursed. “No.”

“You said choose a movie!”

“I meant a Christmas movie! I’m not watching ‘The Mummy’ again this week.” Your arms folded over your chest at his words, a pout on your lips and he frowned, holding sting for only a few seconds before he was whining, turning away from you to reach for plates. “I know the whole script by heart now. I’m growing to hate that film.”

“Yeah, but you love me!” Your words were sung a little as you made your way through to the living room to load up the television, hearing him mumble his reply, words you couldn't really hear, but you knew he was only confirming your sentiments. As the Christmas lights twinkled, the fire still burning and in need of new logs, the television flickering to life as your soon-to-be husband served up dinner in the farmhouse kitchen, you knew there was no place you could possibly be that would make you any happier than right here.

#Mitch Rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp/reader smut #mitch rapp American assassin #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien american assassin #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #12 Days of AUmas

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tanyawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Frozen Miracles | The Mandalorian x reader

My first Din piece! I wrote this awhile ago before season 2 ended and only now am publishing it. Hope you enjoy 😊

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, detailed descriptions of birth, Din frustration, the child isn't chaotic for once

•••

He stood watching the Krayt Dragon meat roast, waiting for Peli to get done talking to his informant. He shuffled around impatiently, watching as the child stared longingly at his dinner.

Needless to say, Din was frustrated. The only lead he had on finding others like him had evaporated the second that marshal removed his helmet. He knew immediately that all the time and energy he spent getting to this point was a waste. By the end of that journey he had: saved a community, restored peace between cultures, slain a dragon, and acquired the imposter’s armor to return it to it’s rightful owners. It was by no means an unsuccessful mission, it just wasn’t the outcome he expected.

He was snapped out of his reverie by Peli shouting at her droid. She approached, telling him about the nearby covert within the sector. He absorbed her words, committing them to memory and hoping that this lead was more promising.

“I just have one favor to ask,” Peli added. Din merely turned his head towards her to show he was listening. “There is someone who needs a ride off this planet.”

His hands returned to their place on his hips, “What’s that gonna cost me? I’m not a taxi service.”

“I know, I know,” she said, “But they’re willing to pay you to take them to the nearest civilized planet.”

He sighed softly, looking at the ground. “What’s the catch?”

“No hyperdrive.”

His helmet snapped to look at her. “No, that’s a deal breaker. Hyperspace is the only thing keeping me safe. I can’t do it.” He gestured.

Peli sighed right back, putting her hands on her hips. “Look, the nearest habitable planet isn’t far away. Surely you can manage that? They won’t be difficult.”

“Why no light speed? What’s the reason for it?”

Peli turned and beckoned whoever this passenger was to come out from her office. Din didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t who came walking into the hangar.

A woman stepped out into the sand, looking cautiously at the two of them. She looked young, quite a bit younger than him. She was dressed in tan clothes, a floor-length skirt and a poncho that looked a few sizes too big, it hid the outline of her frame and made her look like she was drowning in the clothing. A thin sheet of cloth was draped on top of her head, falling over her shoulders like a veil, tied loosely under her chin, leaving her collarbone exposed and some of her hair visible.

Peli waved her over and the young woman slowly approached. Peli put her arm on the woman’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Her husband died eight months ago and she wants to get off Tatooine and start over somewhere new,” she explained.

“Why me? There are transports that can carry passengers,” he replied.

“She doesn’t trust them and she said you seemed safe,” Peli answered for the woman, who still hadn’t spoken a word.

Din’s silence left an unspoken question lingering in the air. What makes her think I’m safe? The woman seemed to sense this and began signing with her hands, using hand signals that Din could decipher.

I’ve read about Mandalorians before, and you have a child. You seem trustworthy.

“She says you seem trustworthy because you have a child with you,” Peli translated, “And she’s read about Mandalorians before.”

“Why can't she talk?” He asked.

“She hasn’t spoken since her husband was killed. I’ve known her for years, she used to talk all the time, she was really happy,” Peli said, a sympathetic expression coming to her face. The young woman looked at the ground, her face was emotionless and cold. She looked void of all happiness, empty and hollow, her lips set in a straight line that hadn’t curved into a smile in a long time.

“You never told me the reason for no hyperdrive,” he restated.

Peli and the woman made eye contact and the older woman nodded to her. The younger woman slowly lifted the bottom of her poncho to expose her swollen stomach. She was pregnant.

“Hyperspace could harm the baby, even kill it. She just wants to get off this planet, too many memories of her husband," Peli explained for the woman.

Din turned away, contemplating and weighing his options. The sound of credits jingling together made him turn to face them again. The young woman held a small, worn leather pouch out to him. He took it in his hands and opened it, revealing a large amount of credits.

"How much is this?"

The woman began to sign and Peli watched in order to translate, not knowing Din already knew what she was saying.

It's 5,000 credits. It's all I have.

"Five thousand credits," Peli said, "It's all that she has left."

He looked between her and the pouch of credits, closing it and tucking it into his belt. "Alright, let's go."

The young woman turned to Peli and gave her a quick hug before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

Din watched her as she disappeared within the metal hull of his ship.

"Hey."

Din turned back to Peli, who had begun gnawing on a piece of meat.

"Take care of her," the older mechanic said, "She's been through a lot. Don't get me wrong, she's tough, but that baby is the only good thing in her life right now."

He nodded, letting her know he had heard her words. He turned again to look at where she had entered his ship, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

~~~~

He settled the Razor Crest into space and set a course to the nearest safe planet, a moon called Nexlar. Despite it being close it would still take several hours to get there, especially without the use of hyperspace.

His passenger had decided to wander down into the hull as soon as the ship was stable. He tried to stop her but it was of no use.

He climbed down the ladder and turned to face his bunk, pressing the control panel letting the door slide up.

"Kid?"

He turned around to look for the little green troublemaker, only to find him standing on a crate next to which their guest was sitting on the floor. Her back was to Mando as he watched her feed his miniature companion pieces of a juicy pink fruit. He took silent steps towards them and observed their interaction.

The child cooed and giggled happily with each morsel of food she fed him. He always ate so much, Din swore his stomach was a bottomless pit.

He watched the expressions on her face, however small they were. She didn't look as helpless or as sad. She almost looked happy and he saw the corner of her mouth twitch up when the child reached out for her.

She continued to feed him until she didn't have any more, holding her hands up to show the youngling that she was empty handed. The child made a sad whining sound, his ears drooping in disappointment and her eyebrows reacted with sadness at seeing him upset. She reached out and pressed a feather light touch to his little green cheek before picking him up and setting him down on the floor.

She must have seen Mando’s boots when she put the kid down, as she jumped back in surprise, a little gasp escaping her lips.

“Hey, it’s ok,” he said calmly. Even with him being slow and calm she still pushed herself away from him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” It took him a second to realize that she might think he doesn’t understand her. He didn’t exactly make it known that he knew her every word back at the hangar. So he took to her form of communication, signing with his hands as well.

Thank you for feeding him.

He could see the gears turning in her head through the expressions on her face. Starting on shock going to realization then to relief and maybe something akin to thankfulness.

You are welcome. I read that that specific fruit was healthy for children. She signed back.

“What’s your name?” he asked out loud. She signed individual letters until it spelled her name. “Y/N, is that right?” She nodded, the corner of her mouth turning up into a small smirk again.

“I’m going to hit the rack, why don’t you head up to the cockpit and try to get some sleep. That chair is much comfier than the floor.”

She began to get up but with most of her weight in the front she was having trouble. Din bent and reached out, grabbing onto her elbows and helping her to stand. She grunted with the effort of trying to stand while being pregnant. She held onto her stomach when she had made it to her feet, wincing in what was either pain or discomfort. Din made sure she could stand on her own before letting her go and watching to make sure she got up the ladder alright. He retrieved the child and set him down in his hammock before crawling beneath his hanging bed and laying down to get some rest himself.

~~~~

Din was woken up by the blaring alarm sounding from the cockpit. He rushed out of his bed and up the ladder, planting himself in his chair and flicking off the alarm. He turned to see the woman- Y/N - with a concerned look on her face, staring out the viewport. He followed her gaze to see the two X-wing fighters on either side of his ship. They were comming him.

He answered reluctantly, giving them the information they needed and hoping they would then leave him alone.

They didn't.

He was doing his best but wasn't good at lying under pressure. There was still some hope he could get out of this confrontation. That was until they asked about the prison.

Din forced the Crest into a dive towards the unknown planet they were currently above. He heard her gasp from behind him and brace herself against the walls. He was trying to lose them, he knew he couldn't outrun them.

"Hold on!" He said, veering towards an opening in the frozen cliffside.

He shot around the corner and disappeared into the cave, praying that the X-wings didn't see him. One of the engines hit against the side of the cave as it got narrower. He was going to have to put it down, there was no other option. The keel of the ship hit the ground and they slid, spinning until they were facing the opposite direction. Din was trying his best to get the thing under control but he was losing fast.

The Crest went over a rut in the ice and was launched several meters high before it crashed down to level ground again. Finally stopping when the stern collided hard with a solid wall of ice. They were all jolted forwards in their seats and their backs hit the chairs as it stopped.

Din rapidly hit switches and pressed buttons trying to discover the state of his ship, he got no reaction from his vessel but continued to try regardless. The woman groaned and he turned to look at her. She laid her head against the wall, her face contorted into an expression of pain. Both her arms were wrapped around her enlarged middle, her hands trembling.

The open comm crackled as the faint voices of the X-wing pilots faded out of range. Din tried more controls, failing to notice that his passenger had unbuckled herself and moved to try and check on his child.

The Crest lurched forward as the ice underneath it gave way. She stumbled and was thrown into the back of his chair, in turn making him jolt forwards. The entire ship began to move as the ice broke and soon it was falling through. Everything seemed to slow down as the Crest descended into a chasm. It hit the floor with astounding force and noise. It’s occupants were thrown around hard and the last thing Din remembered was the sound, before he was thrown forward and knocked unconscious.

~~~~

He came to, slowly moving his head a little, then his arm, then his whole body. Feeling returned to his limbs as he woke up. How long had he been out? It was freezing and frost had accumulated on his armor. He tried and failed on the controls, the Razor Crest wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

In his haste to figure out what had happened and attempts to find a solution he had forgotten about his passenger. A low groan reminded him that she was there. He turned around in the chair to see her body limp at the foot of the door. The tip of her nose and fingers were tinged a light blue and he noticed the draping had fallen off her head. Her clothes weren’t cut out for the cold, they were thin to combat the hot Tatooine temperatures, she would no doubt freeze to death if she didn't warm up soon.

He only had to take a couple steps to get to her, crouching down and shaking her gently. She opened her eyes and he grabbed under her arms, lifting her up. Even with his thick gloves he could feel how cold she was.

"You're freezing, we need to get you warm. Stay here, I'll find some blankets."

He set her down in a passenger seat and dropped down the ladder to inspect the damage. Luckily, the kid had stayed in his hammock, Din grabbed him and all the blankets he had and returned to the cockpit. She was shaking from the cold and had one hand pressed to her temple the other on her belly.

Din set the kid down in his chair and draped a blanket around the woman. She winced as she pulled her hand away from her head, blood covered her palm.

"You're injured.." he said. "I'll get a medkit, stay there." He dropped into the damaged hull once more, retrieving the medkit and crouching in front of her to check her wound.

"Let me see." He gently pushed her hand away to reveal a cut on her left temple, going into her hair. He inspected it, thankfully it wasn't deep and she appeared to not have suffered too much damage.

She pulled the thin shawl off where it fell on her shoulders and wiped her bloody hand on it. She held it out to him and motioned to her head. "Ok," he said, taking the cloth and carefully wiping away what blood he could. He cleaned her wound before applying a small bacta patch.

"That should do it," he said. He packed the medkit back up and tossed it behind him. She still looked to be in pain, now both her hands were on her stomach. "Is the baby ok?"

She moved her hands around, sighing in relief shortly after, then nodding.

Just kicking. She signed.

Before Din could do anything she took his hand and placed it on her belly. Through her layers and his gloves he could feel the small jolts from the life growing within her. There was something so intimate about it. He felt like it was something he shouldn't be witnessing, it was too personal and he was a stranger. She let go of his hand to sign.

Can you feel it? She asked with a smile.

"Yes," he answered, "that's amazing." Despite having let go of his hand, Din kept it in place, feeling as the rowdy little one settled down.

"I need to patch up the hull, I'll be right back," he bid.

I'll watch him for you. She signed, pointing to the child who was playing with a switch.

"Thank you."

Din set about fixing his ship as much as he could, it was in worse shape than he thought. What felt like a couple hours passed and he stopped to take a break and warm up inside. As he walked back around to the front he noticed footprints in the snow leading towards an opening in the cave wall. He looked inside the ship and saw that the kid was sleeping soundly in his bed, wrapped in blankets. She was the one who had left.

Din followed the footsteps into a path of ice tunnels, looking around cautiously. He touched the side of his helmet whenever he could no longer see her tracks. His HUD illuminating her imprints in thermal colors. He continued to follow for what felt like a long time, how far in here had she gone? He hoped nothing had happened to her.

That hope disappeared when he heard a yell come from further in. Din broke into a run, sprinting towards the noise. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

Y/N was sitting waist deep in a small pool of steaming water. She had stripped off her skirt and was only wearing her shirt which was off white and wet to above her stomach, nearly see through. She was in immense pain, her face contorted into agony. She leaned against the edge of the pool, her head resting on the cold snow. One hand gripping the edge so hard her knuckles turned white, the other on her stomach, which looked to be the source of her pain.

He rushed to her side and kneeled in the snow. "Are you alright? What happened?" He asked, looking her over frantically.

She didn't sign, just put her finger on her stomach then dragged it down and pointed out. It suddenly became obvious what was happening to her.

She was in labor.

Din tried not to panic but he was having a hard time. He had no idea how to handle this situation.

“Uh, what can I do?”

She signed quickly and her hands moved so fast and were so shaky that Din almost couldn’t understand her.

I can do this. I just need you to do one thing.

“What, what do you need me to do?”

Her response was clear.

Catch.

She shifted herself and Din helped her so her legs were pointed towards him. “Uh, um, ok. I think I can do that.” He hoped his voice didn’t come through the modulator as shaky and nervous as he felt like it sounded.

She continued to groan and shout in pain and Din wished he could do more. He hesitated to touch her but wanted to support the woman and give her strength, he gently placed a hand on her bent knee.

"C'mon, you can do this. Remember to breathe," he encouraged.

He also didn't want to look down. The water was murky but shallow and he had briefly glimpsed her lower nudity when she turned towards him. Knowing that he would have to reach down there and literally catch her child soon was making him sweat underneath his armor.

Catch, he was going to have to use his hands. He looked at his gloved hands, the gloves had been everywhere and were no doubt dirty and not safe for a newborn. He couldn't touch her with them. Din took a minute and shucked off his gloves, setting them beside him. He reached over to her pile of discarded clothes and grabbed the blanket she'd had around her, setting it between his legs to place the baby on right away.

He made sure to keep his own breathing steady as he looked down, seeing the head of the baby slowly coming through her opening. He took a deep breath and urged her on, watching in mild horror as the child came through more and more.

Din put his hands into the water and helped get the baby’s shoulder through, as she had instructed him. Part of him wished he hadn’t taken his gloves off as his hands were now coated in slimy liquids.

With a last strong push her baby came all the way out and into Din’s hands. He gasped on reflex, it was smaller than he thought it would be. He quickly raised the baby out of the water and wrapped it in the blanket. He pulled his vibroblade out of his boot, about to cut the cord. He looked to her for permission, getting a nod and a warm smile from the exhausted woman.

He broke through it, finally severing the connection between mother and child. She sat up all the way and reached out to him, Din put the babe in her arms and sat back in the snow, almost as exhausted as her.

He looked over at the woman, cradling her baby against her chest, a huge smile on her face. She looked at him, signing.

It’s a girl.

“Congratulations,” he replied.

Thank you, for everything.

“You’re welcome,” Din sighed. “What are you going to name her?”

The woman thought for a moment before looking at him with a smile.

Mandi, after you.

Din’s eyebrows raised under his helmet. “Me? Why me?”

You helped deliver her. It's the least I can do.

Din stared and she paused, both of them thinking.

I will get you more credits when I'm settled, I know this wasn't part of the deal.

He sighed again. "Don't worry about that right now, we need to get you two back to the Crest." She held her child out to Din and he carefully held the tiny girl in his arms the way she showed him. He turned his back to her so she could dry off and dress, meanwhile also becoming enamored with the baby in his arms. Her small pink face peeked through the warm confines of the blanket, eyes closed, peaceful. It all suddenly became real to him.

This was another man's child that he helped bring into the world. A tiny human that he physically saw come to life in his hands. He felt honored, this experience should have been for someone else, the man she loved. But he was gone and Din was, for now, his replacement in a life changing event. Din reached a bare hand up to touch her cheek. The newborn stirred but didn't open her eyes. He held her tighter, having a sudden urge to protect her and keep her warm and safe. She was only about 20 minutes old and already had Din wrapped around her tiny fingers. This must be the same thing that happened when he'd found his child. Almost like a kind of hypnosis, drawing him in, bringing out a side of him he hadn't known he had.

He heard a pained groan and snow crunching and swiftly turned around, finding the woman was fully clothed and had fallen. She was still recovering and her body was too weak to walk just yet, she had tried and fallen when her limbs gave out. He kneeled beside her and she held his gloves out to him. He thanked her and took the gloves, transferring the child back into her arms. He donned his gloves and tugged off his cape. Since using her blanket for the baby, Y/N was left without anything to keep her warm. Din wrapped his cape around her and picked her up like a bride, carrying her back to the Crest.

Thankfully, his own little one had stayed put the whole time but was now awake and rummaging about. Din set her down on his bed and got her more blankets. He wagered he could get some more repairs done and wandered outside again.

~~~~

The sun was going down and it was getting colder than it already was, Din stepped inside and sealed the ship as well as he could for the night. He walked to his bunk to check on his passengers. He found her laying on her side, fast asleep. Mandi laid in front of her, also asleep. He also found his own son, asleep, on the other side of Mandi. Y/N had an arm lightly wrapped around both children, each of them had ahold of one of her fingers. If it wasn't so cold, he might've melted at the sight. It was so pure, so domestic. Something he never thought he'd see in relation to him. The thought of them all belonging to him passed through his mind briefly. He knew that could never be a possibility, especially for him.

He grabbed some food for himself and made his way up to the cockpit, finally intent on eating something. As soon as he made it up there, he heard a baby crying from below. He quickly made his way back down to find Mandi crying and wiggling around in her mother’s arms. Y/N stirred in her sleep and Din carefully scooped the baby into his arms, not wanting her tired mother to wake up, she needed sleep. Din could watch the baby for a while, he could deal with his child, and he was much worse than Mandi. Din rocked the little girl in his arms until she stopped crying, which wasn’t long. He carefully climbed back into the cockpit and laid the baby in his son’s crib. He wasn’t using it right now. He rocked the floating bed and Mandi’s face softened into calm.

“There you go, all better,” he said softly. He took one hand out of his glove again and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was smooth and warm against Din’s blaster calloused hands.

“You need some sleep, tiny one, so does your mother. So you’re stuck with me right now.”

Din continued to talk to the tiny girl until he was sure she was sleeping. He then removed his helmet and was finally able to eat. He was nearly finished when he turned to reach across the controls and bumped his helmet, causing it to fall and hit the floor with a loud clang. Mandi was immediately woken up and began crying. Din reacted fast and took the baby into his arms, rocking her again.

"Shh, shh it's ok. I'm here, you're safe."

Din allowed a smile to spread across his exposed face, able to see how precious she was without his helmet in the way. He simply couldn't resist the sight of this perfect little one in his arms. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Just as he pulled back, the little girl opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was shocked for a moment, this was the first time he'd seen her open her eyes and she was looking at him...without his helmet.

Din looked around to find it lying on the floor near his feet. He wondered if this was technically breaking the Creed since he knew the baby would never remember what he looked like. But nevertheless, he picked the Beskar barrier up off the floor and set it on his head. For once, he was hating having to put it back on.

~~~~

Din didn't remember falling asleep in his chair in the cockpit, not to mention with little Mandi cradled against his stomach, also asleep. He looked around, how much time had passed? He wasn't sure. He thought he heard a faint sizzling sound and his helmet enhanced his hearing. It sounded like someone was welding.

Din got up and set Mandi back into the crib without waking her up. He climbed quietly down into the hull and found the kid asleep in his hammock, but the woman was missing. The sizzling sound was louder and came in increments. Din exited the ship, following the noise to the other side of the ship. There he found the woman kneeling in the snow, tools in hand, repairing his ship. He was stunned, she had just given birth not even 24 hours ago and here she was fixing his ship, and doing a great job as well.

He cleared his throat to get her attention and she looked to him and smiled.

"What're you doing out here?"

Fixing the ship.

"I see that," he replied, "You should be inside where it's warmer."

But I can help, Peli taught me everything she knows. Let me help you.

Din sighed. If this woman was right and she could help fix the Crest then he wanted her help, but he also wanted her to stay safe. “Alright, I’ll start on the other side. If we work together we might get this done before nightfall.”

The woman nodded and got back to work, Din grabbed more tools and started on a different part of the ship. They worked, taking breaks when too cold, and made huge progress on the Crest’s repairs.

~~~~

“I think that’s all we can do with the tools we have,” Din surmised, “We need to get to a hangar and have someone finish the rest.”

The woman stood next to him, looking over their work with a proud look on her face. She had fashioned a sash out of a blanket that went across her torso, Mandi was nestled safe inside, held against her mother’s chest. Y/N also had his little womp rat balanced on her hip.

They had welded and wired everything as best as they could, and managed to patch the hole in the hull with spare durasteel panels.

Shall we get off this frozen rock now?

“That sounds good to me,” Din agreed.

They boarded the ship and Din took the kid while Y/N climbed into the cockpit. He went over the hull again before joining her, setting the kid in one of the passenger seats. He turned and saw her in his chair, flipping switches and pressing buttons. The engines roared to life and she checked out the viewport to make sure they were working correctly. He watched her as she got the ship ready for takeoff, another thing he didn’t know she could do. He was pleasantly surprised.

Over the last few days he had learned she was a great mechanic, took amazing care of both the kids, and now he learned she was also a pilot who knew her way around a ship. He put one arm on the headrest of his seat the other on his hip as he watched her expertly handle the machinery. She was just about to grab the steering handles when she stopped herself and looked up at him. She looked apologetic and began signing to him.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I haven’t flown a ship in so long I just got excited.

She bowed her head at him and got out of the chair, taking one behind him. He chuckled. “It’s ok, maybe as we get closer to Nexlar I’ll let you pilot.” He looked back in time to see her face light up with excitement. He smiled under his helmet and turned back to get the Crest in the air.

He was able to get out of the cave and back into the blackness of space with more ease than he expected. He breathed a sigh of relief when everything held and he was able to set their course for the destined planet.

She tapped him on the shoulder and signed that she was taking the kids down into the hull to try and get them to sleep. He thanked her and watched as she climbed down the ladder, handing the child to her once she was down.

It must have only been about half an hour before he heard someone calling him.

“Mando!”

The voice was broken and strained, whoever was talking was having a very hard time with it. He turned to face the doors.

“Mando!”

A little louder. It was a woman’s voice, she was talking, calling for him. She called him again, panic in her broken and unused voice.

Din jumped out of his chair and quickly climbed down into the hull. Y/N was standing at the foot of his bunk, staring down the length of the ship. He followed her gaze to see all the storage crates and lose equipment suspended in mid air, floating with nothing holding them.

He walked to his bunk only to see his child sound asleep in his hammock. If it wasn’t him then who…

He looked at Y/N to see her concerned and panic stricken face, they both looked down at the same time. Little Mandi was awake and smiling gleefully, waving her tiny limbs around, the suspended cargo moving with her small motions.

“What’s happening?” Y/N croaked out, scared and worried about her baby.

Din sighed as the information sunk in. Not another one.

#star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

Text

A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

#loki #loki series #lokane #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane #jane foster #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark

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talesofstyles · 4 years

Text

The Law of Attraction

buckle up my little ballsacks you’re in for a treat. this is pure lawyer harry filth. honestly i’ve got no excuse.

massive massive thank you to @smokeinherperfume for letting me ramble about lawyer harry 24/7 and @for-fucks-sake-h for allllll the knife emojis FGHSHSGSGH ILY 🥺💛

p.s. all of my fics about lawyer harry are standalones so you don’t have to read them in order. but just fyi technically this one happens after Quid Pro Quo. hope you like it! xx

An orgasm crashes through YN’s body, causing her back to arch in her chair and her fingers to tug hard at the hair of the man who’s working his tongue between her legs. It’s half three on a Wednesday, and instead of skimming through stacks of her clients’ contracts trying to find loopholes or go through the first set of Interrogatories once again before she sends it to the opposing counsel later today; she’s got her former-nemesis-turned-best-friend kneeling before her chair, her skirt hiked up around her waist and her knickers haphazardly pulled to the side. She lets out a groan, which only eggs him on, and he lashes his tongue against her even harder.

“Enough,” she mutters weakly, her voice barely audible and she’s not even sure if he even heard it. She pushes his head away from her, but the stubborn sod only swats her hands away while growling and doubles up on his efforts. She can feel him shaking his head as he licks and sucks away, slipping his finger deep inside her the second she closes her eyes and proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm in just under two minutes.

She slaps her hand over her mouth as she reaches her high again, and Harry looks at her with a satisfied smile, before licking his shiny wet lips without breaking eye contact. The sight alone is almost enough to make her want to shove his head back to where it was half a minute ago. “Feel better?”

“Mhm,” she hums happily and Harry’s lips quirk into a gentle smirk. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he replies as he stands up, before leaning over to button their lips together in a quick kiss.

“I think the pleasure’s all mine, but let’s rectify that,” she mutters as she pulls away. “What do you want? You tell me and I’ll give it to you. Do you want me to get you off slowly or do you want to fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck,” he groans in frustration. “You’re gonna kill me here. I’ve got a deposition in- shit, two minutes. I’ve got to go now. Catch ya later doll.”

She shakes her head, chuckling as she watches him rushing out of her office. “Later, shithead.”

Isn’t it just funny how the universe works sometimes? Six months ago they couldn’t even be in the same room without having a scream-whisper match, but here they are half a year later, happily handing each other orgasms like sweets on Halloween. Harry didn’t even know exactly what was bothering her today. He just sensed that she was in a real mood when he swung by her office, so instead of splitting a packet of KitKats right on the dot at three o’clock like usual, he closed the door and switched on the panel by the door so the transparent glass wall turned translucent to give them privacy, and then he went down on her without saying another word.

The perks of being friends instead of foes with Harry is that she gets to find out that Harry’s oral skills are not limited to advocacy and sarcasm. And not to mention that he’s a very generous man. Sure, it’s not a trait particularly needed in a best friend and colleague, but fuck if that’s not something that is much appreciated. At first, obviously it wasn’t easy for YN to hang the white flag above her head. Her ego was badly bruised when the firm made Harry Senior Partner instead of her in the beginning of the year, making her feel that all the long hours and the all-nighters she’d pulled were all for nothing. She felt like she gave up her social life for nothing, basically put her life on hold for nothing and gave her all to her firm for nothing. She felt unappreciated, and the easiest target to channel all her anger and frustration was Harry. Because come on, who else was she supposed to be mad at? Her boss? It’d be like being mad at Gandhi.

It definitely got much easier when she finally let the resentment go, the fact that he was the one being promoted. Especially knowing well the reason was only because he came from a bigger law firm, and that he came bearing gifts—the gifts being five huge clients from his old firm—when he came into her firm earlier this year. She’s accepted the fact that him being promoted instead of her doesn’t mean that she’s not a damn good lawyer. Hell, she’s got a hundred percent win record to prove that. It was easier to hate him when she didn’t know him, but as they began working on cases together and she got the chance to get to know him more, she knew he deserved it.

If you ask YN, she’d most likely tell you that having a work husband surely beats having an enemy in the office. She loves having Harry as her best friend, her most trusted legal confidant when she needs to strategise on a case and well, as an occasional lover on a bad day. He is her number one ally and advisor, the person she can laugh with and be stressed with, have politically incorrect conversations with, and give her bone-deep honest opinions to. He supports her and helps her with her cases—not that she needs help because again, she’s one hell of a lawyer, but it’s surely nice to have an extra brain in the case sometimes.

Fuck, she really does owe Harry a good one tonight for giving her a nice distraction.

A ding sound from her phone brings her back to reality. She darts her eyes at her phone for a second, and she lets out a heavy sigh when she reads the name on the screen. It’s a text to confirm the dinner meeting tonight at The Berkeley, definitely one that she can’t avoid since he’s a huge client, but more importantly, one that she dreads to meet.

You see, there’s a large part of life that we call normalcy. Eat, sleep, take a shower. Wearing underwear inside our clothes instead of outside like Batman and Superman. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Most people drink coffee in the morning. Thirty minutes of cardio three times a week.

As pathetic as this may sound, pining for Luke, that said client who also happens to be her ex-boyfriend has been YN’s normalcy for the past two years. Luckily, his company is her client and not the man himself so she got away with keeping contact to a bare minimum. Meeting him only about two to three times a year and only when it’s absolutely necessary and cannot be handled by his General Counsel. But apparently, his step-father decided to retire and pass his hotel business to him—honestly, as if he’s not bloody minted already—and he needs her now more than ever because even though he knows his way around the business world, this whole thing is a new territory for him.

This is the second time in a week that he’s arranged a meeting and only God knows how many more meetings with him she could take. Because, as always, his presence means the absence of her sanity. And she hates it.

Welcome to YN’s fucked up life.

***

“I still don’t know why you want me to go with you,” Harry says, turning to look at her when they stop at a red light. Even though it’s dark outside, the neon-blue lights from the interior electronics cast the angles of his face handsomely.

He’s driving both himself and YN to The Berkeley where they’ll be meeting Luke for a dinner meeting to discuss his new business and his plan to merge with another hotel group. Which is an absolutely terrible idea and YN plans to talk him out of it tonight. It’s probably easier said than done though, because she knows Luke and she’s definitely familiar with how stubborn he can be.

There are a lot of things about Luke that she still remembers. He pretends to hate those mini chocolate muffins but he actually loves them. He drinks his coffee at six thirty sharp every morning, yes, even on the weekends. He loves jogging and sometimes he wishes he’s an athlete so that he can get paid just to run and play football all day long. Even though he’s rich as sin—and God, fit as fuck too—he’s humble and definitely not flashy, so if you see him without his suits, you’d probably never guess that he doesn’t actually need to work a day in his life because he comes from old money. But Luke is different. He never touched his trust fund and he was determined to create his own business from scratch.

He’d just started his business around the same time YN started working in her firm as an associate, so she saw it right before her eyes how hard he worked during those first few years as he nurtured his business. His company was one of the first clients that she’d been assigned to work on, and when she got promoted to Junior Partner, her mentor gave her The White Company as her first official client. The timing couldn’t be more brilliant since she and Luke just broke up two days prior, but she knew there was no way she could turn down such a big business.

Fuck, she’s thinking about him again. She immediately makes a mental note in her head to ask Harry for an extra orgasm tonight to keep him out of her mind. But now she can’t help snickering at the thought because she makes it sounds as if she’s asking for extra ketchup.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks and she turns to look at him. He gives her a tiny smirk before his eyes get back on the road, but he reaches his hand out to her bare knee to give her a squeeze. “Still haven’t answered me, doll.”

“Sorry- what did you ask?”

“Why did you want me to go with you?” He asks again. “He wants to merge, right? That’s totally your thing. You don’t need me.”

“You helped me with his crisis a few months ago,” she reminds him. “Just thought we could do his business together again. He’ll be happy he’s getting two partners, the firm will be happy because they can charge double. It’s a win-win, really.”

“Bollocks that,” Harry laughs. “Worst bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s all, honest,” she feigns innocence.

“Honey, I didn’t go through law school for nothing, did I?” He replies without moving his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re using me as a human condom, aren’t you?”

“What the hell does that even mean?” She drops her jaw in shock at the fact that he calls her out on the carpet just like that.

“You’re afraid you’ll catch feelings again if you’re left alone with him, so you bring me as a shield. Am I right?” He asks her with an accusatory eyebrow raise. “You know what, no need to answer that. Of course I’m right.”

“I told you, he’s just a client now,” she insists, trying to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as Harry’s hand inches its way up her thigh. It’s incredibly arousing, but she also finds it a little disturbing since they’re having a conversation about a man she’s head over heels for. She almost want him to stop but fuck if she’s going to ask him.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here,” he says, and it’s really hard for her to concentrate on what he’s saying since he’s squeezing her thigh. His fingers pressing deep into her muscles and she can only wish they’re a few inches higher. “But if in any way you want to get him back, just say the word and I’ll back away, yeah?”

“There’s nothing going on, Harry,” she reassures him. “You’ve got to trust me on this. He’s just a client now.”

“You sure?” Harry asks again. Turning to look at her briefly before he pulls into a parking space and puts the car in park, but she can tell by the tone in his voice that he doesn’t buy a single thing she’s said.

“I’m sure,” she nods reassuringly.

Harry grins as he reaches up and tweaks her on the nose. “You’re cute when you lie.”

“Shut up, shithead,” she mutters as she pulls on the door handle. It opens and she steps out, taking a moment to smooth down her dress. Leaning back down, she looks inside the car to look at Harry and give him a wink. “Now let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can reciprocate.”

***

“You have it bad for him, don’t you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow at her accusingly, not even bothering to wait until Luke disappears past the lift to take a call.

YN blinks in surprise at his accusation, but instead of denying it for the second time tonight, she finally concedes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Holy shit,” this time, it’s Harry’s turn to look at her in surprise. He definitely wasn’t expecting her to admit it, but fuck if he believed that bullshit she told him in the car. “No, it’s not obvious. But I know you better than anyone in this room.”

She chuckles, before taking a swig of her Chardonnay. “True.”

“I meant what I said earlier in the car,” Harry reminds her. “Just say the word and I’ll back away. He’s probably still into you too.”

She just stares at him for a second. She’s obviously contemplating something, he can tell. He braces, wondering if she’ll finally tell him to back away. He has to remind himself to be cool, to just nod and smile if she actually does say that. They’re not exclusive, and as amazing as this last six months has been, he knows all good things come to an end. He has no absolute reason to be upset, he knows that. And as her best friend he only wants the best for her. If she thinks Luke can make her happy, then so be it.

He’s ready for her to tell him to back away. He does. Not saying that he’ll be happy, but he’ll accept it. So imagine his surprise when she gives him a smirk and says, “let’s go all the way tonight.”

Harry’s head shoots up, and he narrows his eyes at her. “You fucking with me?”

“I was hoping you’d be the one doing all the fucking,” she murmurs, still smiling coyly at him and somehow has the audacity to dip her eyes in a completely fake showing of shyness.

Harry’s eight-inch piece of equipment that had been jumping and twitching like an excited puppy now goes to full mast, pushing hard against his zipper. He drains the rest of his drink in one big gulp, not wanting to waste any time. “Stay here and wait for him to finish that sodding call. Make up an excuse for me and distract him while I go and try to get us a room upstairs.”

“You do realise that my flat is literally ten minutes away from here right? And your place is like, what, twenty minutes tops?”

“Upstairs is closer,” he lowers his voice huskily. “They have beds too.”

Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Beds, huh?”

“What? Don’t fancy shaggin’ on a bed?” He says with a smirk, sitting straighter as he smooths his tie. “I’ll see if they’ve got anything with a balcony then.”

“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” She mocks, rolling her eyes. “Does the word indecent exposure mean anything to you?”

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“I did,” she challenges him with a spark of defiance in her eyes. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Do that again and you’ll get the palm of my hand,” he tells her ominously.

“You’re all mouth and no trousers, Styles,” she taunts him.

“Good luck trying to sit tomorrow.”

***

In less than fifteen minutes, YN is standing in a lift with Harry’s lips roaming her neck and his finger sinking deep inside of her.

She didn’t have to make up an excuse when Luke went back to their table after taking the call. Apparently, there was some emergency and he needed to get back to his office as soon as possible for an emergency meeting with the boards. She assured him it was fine and that they could easily arrange another meeting to further talk about his plan to merge with another hotel group.

Harry doesn’t waste much time as he pushes the button to their floor and the doors close. He stalks towards her, cupping her head to bring her mouth to his, and his other hand going directly between her legs. She slips her tongue into his mouth and touches it against his, the vibe of the kiss turning a bit dirty. It’s a thrilling turn on, causing waves of pleasure to pulse through both of them. His tongue ends up dominating hers in the most searing, sexually explosive kiss she’d ever been given.

His hand softly fondles her for a moment, and then he’s inside of her, curling his finger in a way that has her knees buckling. He immediately saves the day by pushing one of his legs in between hers to hold her steady. He knows he doesn’t have time to get her off before they reach their floor, so he breaks the kiss and roams his lips along her neck lightly, moving his finger in and out of her leisurely but so very deeply. Her hips flex against him, trying to demand more, but she’s just going to have to wait.

When the lift starts to slow near their floor, he calmly removes his hand, smoothes her dress down, and gives her a light kiss on the nose.

He’s smiling at her as he closes the door behind them, in a completely relaxed, but thank fuck we’re finally doing this and I’m here to fuck you senseless kind of way, and it manages to show the two dimples he sports on either side of his full lips.

Their lips meet again as he leans in, softly at first, just a taste to whet the appetite. His arms tighten around her, and he increases the pressure, urging her to open up and let him in. He’s a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom, and fuck if she’s not thanking her lucky stars that he’s just the same in the bedroom. He moves his lips against hers, making delicious little thrusts and flicks with his tongue, teasing and tantalising, all while stroking her back in the most incredibly sensual way that makes her tingling from head to toe.

He loves how she just melts against him when he rubs her back, and how adorably dazed she looks just from a kiss. Grinning at her, he reaches a finger out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. The blood in his dick thumps, eagerly demanding to move things along, but he’s determined to take his time with her.

Her mouth waters as her hands work at his belt buckle. His cock is thick and hard when she pulls him free of his boxer briefs, and she drops to her knees with her hand wrapped around his girth. It’s standing straight up before her after she releases it for a second, and she melts at the sight. There’s one perfectly thick vein running straight up the middle, but then it veers off at an angle. And although this is certainly not the first time she sees it, she can’t help but cock her head to the side just to see where it goes.

He palms the side of her head with one hand and holds her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head with the other. Looking up at him, she can see his jaw is locked tight and his chest is rising and falling rapidly.

She squeezes him hard, just the way she knows how he likes, and strokes up and down a few times, making him groan. His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Ssh,” she shushes him before she murmurs low in her throat. “I’ve got you.”

She finally opens her mouth, bares her teeth slightly, and then scrapes them lightly over the tip. A long, deep groan rumbles out of him, his eyes remain shut tight. Exhilaration and victory swells within her, knowing that just that one tiny touch reduced him to utter helplessness.

He opens his eyes, gazing at her. His voice is thickened and gruff when he says, “you’ve got no idea how beautiful you look while on your knees before me.”

She responds to him by leaning in, and without hesitation taking the tip of him into her mouth, making him groan in relief. He grips her lightly, his fingers pressing into her scalp as a means of holding her steady and not to force action. She licks and sucks, squeezing and stroking him with her hand. He’s watching her from above with lust on his face, and she’s savouring every little groan she drags out of this normally stoic man. She flutters her tongue on the sensitive underside just below the head of his cock, her hand gently squeezing his balls as she works his shaft.

“Been dying to get that cherry lipstick on my cock,” he mutters softly, she can barely hear him. He grits his teeth as he slowly pulls out of her mouth. “Knew that red lipstick would look good on me.”

Her eyes slide to his cock, and she has no clue what her mouth looks like, but she’s absolutely sure most of her lipstick is gone since it’s smeared beautifully along the length of his shaft. She tries to take it back into her mouth, determined to bring him into completion that way, but his hand immediately covers her, holding her still while his eyes pin her in place. “Wanna be inside you.”

He helps her stand on her feet, and the next thing she knows, her dress pools around her ankle. His hands come to the back of her bra, flicking it open and pulling it from her. Then he drops to his knees before her. Fingers going under her knickers, he pulls them down just enough to gain access and runs his tongue up her centre.

He had fantasised about her naked before him more times than he could probably admit that he has to blink twice to convince himself that this time is real. And fuck if it isn’t much better than his dreams.

“Bed,” he commands, and she crawls on it with the intent to lay in a sexy pose as she turns over to face him, but he’s on the bed with her, quick as lightning, and flips her to her back.

Her eyes go up to find him staring at her tits, and she can’t help but joke. “They don’t bite, you know.”

His gaze comes up to meet hers, and his lips curve slightly. “But I do. It’s probably going to hurt a little.”

A shudder ripples through her, and her nipples harden. His eyes flick back down to her breasts. She swallows hard at the anticipation, the thought of him getting a little rough with them is thrilling, but there’s something else she wants more right now.

“I’m fucking dying to be inside you right now,” he whispers in her ear. His admission elicits a deep moan to escape from her lips. “Last chance to change your mind, doll.”

“Please just fuck me already,” she whimpers, her hands roaming his body. Every glide of her fingers over his skin fills him with a fullness he’s never experienced before. “I’m losing my mind.”

With one hand pressed into the mattress, Harry uses the other to take his cock in hand. He dips his hips, pressing the tip right into her entrance. Blowing out a breath, he brings his eyes to hers and holds her captive, finally thrusts deeply into her. She screams, not in pain but in pure fucking ecstasy, as he fills her up. Harry bottoms out, his pelvis pressed hard into hers.

Baring his teeth, he mutters, “fuck… that feels good.”

“Would feel better if you move,” she suggests with a smirk.

Harry stays completely still inside of her. He breathes in deeply, closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them up again, he gives her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid to move. Afraid I might embarrass myself and blow my load in about two nanoseconds.”

She lets out a giggle, pretty sure that’s the one and only time in her life she’s ever done something so girly. Harry laughs huskily and kisses her hard. He doesn’t move an inch from his waist down but just kisses her deeply with thorough possession. When he pulls away, he tentatively circles his hips, grinding into her.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and drops his forehead to hers. “Yeah… definitely not gonna last long.”

Her hands go into his hair and she massages his scalp, incredibly touched and turned on over his reaction to her. She tugs on his hair, pulling his face away from hers. “Harry?”

He moves reluctantly and looks down at her with that same abashed look. She tilts her hips, clenches her internal muscles around his cock, and then rubs her thumbs into his scalp.

“Let go,” she commands him softly. “Fuck me hard and come as fast as you want. We’ve got all night.”

***

Harry’s hand reaches out, tapping the screen on his phone to turn the alarm off, laying silently in the predawn gloom pondering about his situation at this very moment.

There’s a naked, beautiful woman on top of him, and fuck if he can remember when was the last time he woke up with someone else in his bed. It’s not that he’s averse to cuddles; if the woman wants a cuddle with him after sex, he’d give it to them. The act of intimacy like that doesn’t scare him whatsoever. But normally he’d be out of their hair long before the sun is up, leaving them to wake up alone and him to start his day as if the night before didn’t happen.

He always tells himself to forget whoever he shags the night before no matter how great of a fuck she was, although he’ll allow himself to bring forth the memories when he jerks off if needed.

YN fell asleep a few hours prior, spread-eagled over his body right after she collapsed from the most recent fuck-fest. She came, he came, then she fell forwards onto his chest and was out like a light. And he left her right there all night. Letting her lie on top of him, calling it a day well completed and went to sleep himself.

His hand slides down from her stomach right between her legs, his fingers swiping through her folds which become slicker with desire the more he plays. She softly moans in her sleep and her lower body starts to squirm. Her breathing hitches, and the second she cracks her eyes open, she gives him that happy, sleepy, please fuck me again smile.

He gently eases her down from the top of his chest to lay beside him, rolling her to the side so her back is facing him. Then he pushes her outer leg up, sliding his body down just a little bit, angling his cock to slip into her from behind.

Harry moves slowly as he’s spooned around her and she moans in pure bliss as he fills her up. The arm that her head is resting on comes up to curve across her chest and hold her tight. His other hand grips the back of her thigh firmly to pin her in place.

“More,” she whispers on a forced exhalation.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles against her hair. “My girl wants more.”

And he gives her more. Fucking her exquisitely and with no doubt that neither of them has ever had it that good. He takes her higher and higher, the sweet words that he’s whispering in her ear is the complete opposite of the kinky shit they did last night.

“Balcony?”

YN didn’t hesitate, following right behind him as he pushed the doors open. A light breeze filters in but it’s still muggy outside. They’re on the seventh floor, and they can still hear the rumble of engines and the honking of horns below them. The quiet darkness of Belgravia stretches out beyond.

Harry walked up to the edge of the balcony, which was made of stone and concrete, sitting about three and a half feet high. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a searing kiss. She moaned, slipping her tongue in his mouth and gripped onto his shoulders. The kiss was deep and wet, and honestly, the best kind of kiss.

He pushed her up against the wall, laying a palm over one breast. Squeezing, plumping, testing the weight in his hand. He rubbed a thumbnail over her nipple, eliciting the softest sigh from her.

He brought his other hand south. Straight shot, right to her centre. Her head dropped to his shoulder as his fingertips continued to circle and rub against her. Within minutes she had his fingers deep inside her and his thumb working her hard. He wanted nothing more than to just line up and push his way in, but he waited. He waited until he saw her trembling became a little fiercer, her body tensed, and when she sucked in a large gulp of air, he knew that was his cue.

He quickly removed his fingers, bracing his hands on her hips and slammed forward. She took him all the way in and he cursed under his breath as he felt her spasm all around him when she came. For a second he thought about hitting it hard, chasing another orgasm, but then he decided against it, wanting to relish the scenery and listen to the sounds of the city.

“Let’s just quit our jobs and fuck all day,” Harry jokes as he drops her leg back down into place.

“Sounds good to me,” she laughs as she reaches around him, grabbing the complimentary bottle of water on the nightstand, taking a sip before she hands it to him and he finishes it in a couple of long swallows.

“Thirsty?”

“Starving too,” he replies in a way that doesn’t make her think he wants some bacon and eggs.

Within seconds, he has her on her back again as he slides down her body, roughly pushing her legs apart. Her hands shoot out, grabbing the sides of his head before he gets the chance to descend even lower. “No.”

“What?”

“Let me get cleaned up first,” she says lamely, pretty sure she’s killed the mood. “I mean… I’m filled with-”

Harry ignores her, cutting her off by dropping his mouth right between her legs and begins sucking. She shrieks from the warm contact, surprised by how sensitive she is, and as he lifts his gaze to hers, he murmurs. “That’s you and me together, and we taste fucking delicious.”

Her body trembles from his words, and through a dry and parched throat she croaks, “then by all means.”

“Thank you,” he says with a wink, then proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm that totally wrecks her.

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