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generallynerdy · 3 years

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Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

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“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din.

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right.

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 24 - If You Want Me...

Masterlist; Chapter 23

Summary: Tension reaches its boiling point when you overhear an unfortunate conversation. With unexpected allies, you attempt to break the impasse once and for all.

Warnings: ANGST (still but... well you’ll see ;)); at few points R! is being a little dramatic which can be triggering if you’ve been dealing with intrusive thoughts (nothing too bad though); swearing.

Author’s Notes: Finally! It’s been a wild ride... and god am I happy i’ve managed. This part took a lot of effort but I quite like what I came up with... even if sometimes it gets too angsty. Can’t wait for what’s coming next, however... :)))) Hope you enjoy and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

The shooting range on the icebreaker was a strange place. It occupied a large proportion of the deck floor in the accommodation part of the ship, next to the turnstile and sparring grounds. With darkness swallowing every corner that was not lit up by the blinking fluorescents, it was a perfect place to hide. Soon it became your go-to solace when things got difficult, and the only other idea you could come up with involved going outside without the oxygen mask attached. You did not want to go that far. Yet. Target practice became your favourite occupation. It was simple and did not involve talking to people that could give you worrying looks or comment on the dark circles underneath your eyes. Sleep was no longer a thing, with you catching three-hour-long naps at best, in between never-ending worrying and staring at the ceiling, reminiscing the past. The constant headaches were something you soldiered through, accepting them as a part of reality. The worst part of that new life was the fact that you and Neil stopped talking to each other altogether. Not even empty pleasantries could get through the stone-cold awkwardness and tension capable of killing you before the heartache would. After a day of near-misses and horrifying mistakes that culminated with you accidentally spilling boiling water all over the sweater when Neil entered the galley, you both mastered the art of hiding. You only saw him once afterwards, sitting at the table in the corner of the canteen. That was almost two days ago, and you were thankful.

Once you went through the assigned daily rounds, you moved onto the task of cleaning the guns and rifles. Polishing the metal cases and arranging the bullets was as close to therapy as it could get. With the repetitive action occupying your brain, there was no time to get emotional over things you could not change. Only at the shooting range, you did not feel so utterly hopeless. So terribly unloved. A sudden noise by the airlock made you look up. Conveniently the air in the range was sealed so that you need not to worry about oxygen masks during the target practice. It also meant you got approximately five seconds warning to check the identity of the intruder. This time you were surprised.

“Hi, Y/N. Thought I’d find you here” TP’s dark gaze slid over you cautiously.

Taking off the mask, he joined you at the makeshift table, looking at the arsenal you have spread over the surface. You eyed him with curiosity. That was unexpected. So far, he has never interacted with you outside of the meetings. And every time he did, you could not stop thinking about how much he knew. Who did he see when he looked at you?

“Afternoon” shaking off the reverie, you offered him a tight smile, “Is it afternoon?” glancing at the watch, you grimaced, “Oh,”

The last time you checked, it was 3 pm. The blue numbers on your wrist were mercilessly ticking away. 8:30 pm. How the fuck. TP caught your silent crisis as he asked:

“How long have you been down here?” looking up, you encountered a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

Interesting.

“Umm, five hours?” it felt like the best estimate.

It was probably longer. But he need not know that.

“Jesus,” wincing, he directed his taxing gaze back onto you, “When was the last time you had food?” tone strictly business.

The truth was that you did not remember. With everything falling apart and losing meaning, food became an afterthought. Half the time you would realise you only had one meal around 1 am, forcing you to tiptoe to the kitchen and grab something from the cupboard. A hungry stomach was nothing compared to all the other issues. It could be ignored.

“Breakfast. I’m not hungry though,” brushing off the concern you chose defiance, “Is this an interrogation?” you arched one eyebrow and cocked the gun you have wiped clean.

TP snorted at your comedic timing.

“No, I come here in peace” he raised his hands in defeat and added, “To see if you’re… alright” the hesitation made you scoff.

“You know that I’m not. Because things are generally far from alright,” letting annoyance slip into the sentence, you let go of the tools and met his gaze with coldness.

The deepening frown was concerning. You were being unfair. After all, it was not him who has caused all this pain. Remorse nipped at your heart as you sighed heavily.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary,” he accepted your apologetic smile with a nod, giving the courage to continue, “And I’m also sorry that you all have to witness that mess in the meetings. I’d rather it stayed between him and me... but he seems to disagree” you shrugged.

Sometimes you did wonder why Neil seemed so intent on making your arguments a public spectacle. Whether that was a part of the intricate plan to make you look like an idiot or a result of his emotions boiling over. Not that it mattered. Everyone on the team knew what the deal was anyway. A poor, naïve you, desperately in love with someone who could not care less. Nothing out of the ordinary. Judging by TP’s passing frown, for him too the topic was rather uncomfortable. He took a long moment to respond, looking for answers in the rows of bullets you have arranged on the table.

“Not going to lie, it’s awkward, but at least I know what’s going on, and I can offer to listen” he met your gaze with newly found determination.

Okay… Confiding in TP was quite low on the list of things you expected to have the opportunity of doing. But then so was having to convince Neil not to get himself killed for the sake of the operation. Anything goes.

“Aren’t you taking a side?” that suspicious voice in your head was difficult to get rid of, “Agreeing with him that I’m stupid, emotional, and overall a burden?” you recited the memorized litany of epithets with a stone-cold expression.

The words have lost their meanings after you have put them apart in the quiet of your mind. Now they were just sounds, incapable of inflicting pain. It was the least that could be done.

“He went too far with that” TP winced, his eyes expressing traces of disapproval, “I might not know you well, but you’re none of these things,” a sympathetic smile softening the tone.

An open hand. An olive branch. Why not? Taking a deep breath, you got ready to open up before the most unexpecting of allies.

“In a way, he was right though…” you looked down, trying to find the needed strength, “I am stupid because I have allowed myself to care too much for him” there it is, “And now I’m paying for it” when you met his eyes again, you found nothing but thoughtfulness.

It was something you thought about often as well. The fact that Neil was right, you did care, and that it was perhaps the reason for your demise. But who could blame you for falling for the bastard looking like the devil? And equally charming too.

“Maybe it’s a little too forward, but-” TP’s tentative tone made you grin.

In moments like this, you acutely remembered that he was still a rookie. Not used to the half-truths and strange tenets you accepted as your credo. His innocence was adorable even.

“In this profession, a it’s sometimes nice to say the truth. Shoot away” you waved your hand dismissively, anticipating the question.

There is a first time for everything.

“Fair point” he mirrored your smile before asking, “Do you love him?”

Plain and simple. Ignoring the panic, you took a moment to ponder the answer. It was… obvious. You told Neil as much twice before, and no amount of pretending and lies could ever undo it. The words were his. Just as you were. Unfortunately.

“I’d want to say no, that I got over it, but… Yes, I do,” you offered the answer with a helpless frown, “Think any idiot can see it” noticing a hint of embarrassment briefly you patted TP’s shoulder, “No matter how much he hurts me, I always find myself wishing things could be… like they once were”

Whatever that meant. In truth, you wanted more. You wanted to wake up next to him every morning. You wanted affirmations of love every day as you tasted his coffee-stained lips. You wanted to lie in his embrace, feeling desired and loved. But most of all, you wanted to be able to lace up your fingers with his, following the instincts that became your second nature. To card your fingers through his silky golden strands and to give him everything he would desire. You wanted to be his. He was supposed to be yours. Or was the universe wrong?

Thoughts of that kind could be lethal. Shaking yourself awake, you met TP’s eyes. Apart from the lack of surprise at your admission, you noticed something strange. A passing realization. As though he has heard something similar before but was afraid to speak up. Once again, you found yourself wondering what Neil told him. What did he mean by ‘things you and I should explain to each other’? For a moment, you wanted to jump head in and ask. But what good would knowing the truth be when you could not act on it? As though aware of your increasing dilemma, the man spoke up again.

“I’m sorry for Oslo” your eyes widened at the reminder.

“Why?” blurting out the question, you eyed him cautiously.

The deepening discomfort radiating off him confirmed your assumptions. That was it. He knew what nearly happened that night. And he was flustered about his role in it. That was not the conversation you ever expected to have.

“I can’t help but think that maybe if I hadn’t… interrupted you, it would’ve-” he stumbled over the sentence somewhat endearingly.

Perhaps it was the lack of care that made you say the next words. Or maybe just the fact that nothing mattered anymore, and so who could judge you for the purest form of honesty.

“Doubt it,” interrupting him with a sour smile, you added, “Maybe it’s good you knocked then… Least he doesn’t have absolutely everything” noticing the alarm painted on TP’s face, you blushed.

Yep, too far. Still true, however.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to know that much” you brushed off the sudden awkwardness with a sincere apology.

“I can pretend I’ve never heard it” it was his turn to give a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

You could feel the strange companionship forming. Sure you did not mind. Relaxing back in the chair, you spoke up:

“Thanks,” as TP also visibly reclined, you brought up the thought that was not letting go of your mind, “I don’t know how much he has told you about… this,” gesturing vaguely, you bit your lip.

Somehow you knew that he would not betray Neil by sharing with you everything that has been said. But even crumbs would do…

“Quite a bit,” you watched him closely, intrigued by the hesitation, “Enough for me to know that you’re someone I can trust and that he had reasons to be acting that happy in Tallinn before the action” oh.

That painful pang in your heart was heart to ignore. You winced, feeling the steady gaze fixed on your face. The analysis was mutual. Neil, happy, back in Tallinn. Because of you. You have lost too much.

“What do you mean?” treading carefully, you asked the safest of questions.

A small smile on his face showed you just how obvious you were. Lovesick idiot.

“Hours he has spent texting someone, phone calls he would pick up instantly and then come back grinning like a madman” TP offered you examples with a glimmer in his eyes “It only clicked when we were inverting, and I asked him about you” the blush on your cheeks deepened under his taxing gaze “Suddenly all of that made sense if you were in Estonia with us” he shrugged, finishing the thought.

Oh my god. While you experienced it all firsthand during those chaotic yet hopeful days in the safehouse when everything seemed to have infinite potential, hearing about it from someone else’s perspective felt strange. Almost like a slap in the face. Because it only confirmed what you knew – he once loved you. Once.

“Well, it seems like he has changed his mind…” you muttered, feeling the resentment settle in.

You wondered whether one day it would stop hurting. If you could ever get over this and find someone else. That darkest part of your brain knew the answer well enough. Nothing could come close. And nothing ever would.

“Or he’s just an idiot” the cheeriness felt forced.

But judging by the way TP was staring at you, you could tell it was his attempt at dispersing the sudden melancholy. It was strange to see him worried about you of all people. Perhaps your shit attempts at diverting everyone’s attention from your declining mentality were failing. And that was a reason to be concerned.

“That too,” plastering on an unconvincing smile, you stifled a yawn.

That caught his attention.

“You should get some rest” upon further thought, he added, “And food,”

The intensity of his look was stifling. You hated being the centre of attention. Especially in moments like this when you felt vulnerable, an object of pity and unease. Stupid, weak, and useless. The sabotaging voice came out in full force, making you want nothing but to curl up in bed and disappear. Not yet, however.

“Yes, sir” you raised your hand in mock salute.

Your face fell when instead of a laugh, you got a frown in response. Oopsie.

“I’m serious” TP seemed to consider something quickly before placing his hand on your forearm, “I’m… I’ve been a little worried about you” he met your eyes with a clear purpose.

Shit. That is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Being seen as pathetic and a burden. Internally, you cursed yourself for not being strong enough. For letting anyone see the cracks. You would not let them see you shatter into pieces.

“I’m doing fine,” mustering the happiest of grins, you tried to mask the urgency.

Please buy the bullshit.

“Are you?” he didn’t. Before your brain could fully arrive at the panic station, his inquisitive expression softened. You held his gaze for a beat, hoping to convey everything. Hoping to convince him to let the conversation go. It worked for TP gave a final taxing look before backing off. You exhaled slowly, relaxing a little. Maybe the worst was over…

“Before we go… there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about…” TP changed the subject, looking down at the table “The lock. You want to go with him”

It was not exactly a question, yet you knew he expected an answer. That one you could easily give him. It was obvious, even if you have never said it out loud. Up till now.

“Yes... Maybe it is an impulsive and stupid thing to do, but I can’t let him do it alone. I can’t let him get killed” the word felt foreign in your mouth.

As though ‘Neil’ and ‘death’ were two irrelevant concepts that did not fit together even in theory. They could not. You would not allow it. And you were willing to accept the worst of risks to make sure it would not happen. Hell, you would even fight against fate and time to assure that.

“I’d rather avoid that too” TP’s quiet comment made you look up, “He deserves so much more than…” there was something startling in his gaze.

As though he has stopped himself before saying too much. Much more than what? And why was he looking at you like that? Like you were missing something tragic, and his heart was breaking for your loss. You felt like going insane. TP cleared his throat awkwardly, resuming the conversation, not at all fluently:

“I don’t buy the whole ‘what’s happened, happened’. What does that even mean?” the irritation shining through his strange tone was distracting.

“Don’t ask me,” you shrugged, “I like to think there’s a different solution to this. One that doesn’t involve Neil sacrificing himself. And I need to be there with him because if it comes to it… I’d take that bullet for him” you did not know where the honesty came from.

Or why you would admit something that fundamental to TP. His response was just as anticipated – a gasp and widened eyes. Nibbling on your lower lip, you broke the eye contact and chose to stare at the forgotten gun lying on the table. It was the truth, so why did admitting it feel so… radical?

“Are you sure?” when he found his voice again, it was hoarse.

“It’s that kind of love,” you replied, still unable to meet his gaze.

You never expected to reveal yourself like that to TP. Wheeler? Maybe. Even Kat seemed like a probable option, but not the boss himself. And especially not at this stage of his story. Yet he was there, willing to listen, and that was enough. You would deal with the consequences later, in your mind that would undoubtedly rebel against such a display of fragility.

“I don’t want it to sound patronizing… but you’re still young. There might be someone else for you along the line if Neil-” his voice broke through your reverie as you interrupted him with a start.

“I know” finally, you raised your head again, showing the sincerity of expression, “But something tells me it’s him or nothing. Call it fate or insanity” biting back a dry chuckle, you felt a single tear form in the corner of your eye.

That was something you have spent most of the time thinking about. At the start, you desperately wanted to believe that you would get over this. That it was just another disappointment, and like before, eventually you would forget about those blue eyes and maniacal grin. But your heart knew better, constantly reminding you that it was not that simple. That Neil was not someone you just forget. Because how could you?

“Reality?” TP’s eyes were filled with thoughtfulness.

“Perhaps,” you cracked a smile, feeling heaviness in your heart lift by an inch.

Always something. Another yawn ended the delicate moment seconds later, making you scowl in annoyance. What was the point of tiredness when you could not even rest properly? TP laughed at your pained expression and got up:

“Now, you into the kitchen. And try to get some sleep” he offered you a hand which you took and stood up.

“I’ll try” a lie, “Thank you… for checking in and listening” sheepishly, you tried to find any words of gratitude.

“I owed you that after those hours in Oslo, filled with plans, coffees, and awful songs you’d sing to entertain us” the knowing smirk suggested that he did remember what you hoped would be forever forgotten.

MTV in Norwegian. Your knackered brain deciding that singing along to ‘Like a Virgin’ and ABBA was what had to be done to make everyone smile. Mistakes have been made.

“Don’t remind me,” TP laughed as you smacked him on the shoulder.

*** You did not sleep after you bid goodbye to TP. That night too was spent tossing and turning in bed, thinking about how everything could have crumbled so quickly. It has only been weeks since Tallinn. In fact, looking from the linear point of view, it has not even happened yet. The normal you have been enjoying the confusion of those days before Oslo when everything was difficult yet hopeful. Too good to be true, at times. Well, now you knew that those moments never lasted too long.

The next morning you quickly grabbed breakfast and sneaked into the sparring area, hoping to catch a few minutes with the punching bag before the troops would take over space. However, that day it was not meant to be.

You heard the voices as soon as you opened the airlock and entered the large room. It was divided into a few sections, each devoted to a different training exercise. To your advantage, each was also separated with a thin plastic screen. Cautiously, you approached the nearest divider, trying to determine whether your mind was not playing any tricks. After one second, you knew. TP and Neil were having a rather heated conversation on the other side of the screen. A sparring ground was the place you least expected to encounter them. And yet… You wanted to turn away and leave before more damage could be done, but the moment you heard the boss’s voice, you froze on the spot:

“Why are you so hard on her?” TP’s question rung out clear in the highly domed room “The only crime she has committed was falling in love with you. I don’t think that’s worth all that pain you’re inflicting”

There was no doubt as to who he meant. Your heart sank. Oh my god. On one hand, it was encouraging to know someone was fighting for your side and pointing out the unnecessary torture Neil was so keen on. But the fact that they were discussing the nature of your feelings was terrifying. Listening on felt wrong, yet you could not move away.

“It would be better for her if she hadn’t” Neil’s cold tone made your blood turn to ice.

There was something frightening in how distant he sounded. As though he was nothing like the man you fell in love with, only a cold impostor that borrowed his face and voice. He was right.

“Why? You told me that you love-” TP’s voice rose, incredulity tinging every single word.

Neil told him his feelings. You expected that, and it still felt like a punch. You leaned on the wall for support.

“It doesn’t matter what I said” the biting edge to Neil’s voice was new, “Or how I feel. The sooner she gets over it, the better for all of us” he threw it without caution, as though he was done with your bullshit.

With the fact that you were stupid enough to love him. He did not want your love. Never did. The crushing weight on your chest would not give way.

“You’re cruel” TP was surprised, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

“That’s mercy” Neil was begging for the conversation to be over, “Cruelty would be letting her entertain the idea that we can...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Christ. All those nights spent wishing for answers, and when they came you wanted to forget you ever heard it. It was foolish to believe anything could ever happen between you.

“But why? Neil, you are in love with her” TP raised his voice yet again, utterly done with whatever the blonde bastard was doing.

You could not care less. Nothing mattered anymore. But you did not expect the very next punch. Or the pain you would feel.

“I’m not” clear-cut rejection; nothing to interpret “I don’t love her. There’s no need to look at me like I’m a monster”

Enough. You heard enough. The pain was as bad as ever as you walked away. Your mind set on one simple thing - tea. Yes, that would solve it.

*** Going to the galley felt as though you were stuck within a dream you could not shake off. Half-aware of your surroundings, you nearly walked into Dominic, whose survival instincts kept him off your path. Muttering apologies, you undid the zip lock and sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world. With a start, you noticed Kat sat at the table. She gave you a welcoming half-smile as she sipped the tea from the metal cup. Your autopilot stuttered, overwhelmed by the company. Blocking off any attempts at thinking, you followed the muscle memory. Setting the kettle on. Putting teabag into the mug. Earl Grey because it reminded you of those morning kisses in London. No. Wrong memory. You shook your head, waiting for the water to boil. The fridge was too loud, the buzz making thoughts appear. Sighing, you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were burning, the sensation increasing with every single blink. It was alright. So why did it feel like the world was ending?

The kettle switched off. Without sparing a single thought to the reality, you poured the water in, watching with fascination as the teabag floated up. Kat’s spoon let out a clink as she placed it on the edge of the plate. You jumped up, startled. That was enough to break through your carefully woven barrier. The thoughts came rushing in. Neil didn’t love you. Your chest tightened as the next breath came out strained. The air was gone. Your hands shook as you tried to take out the teabag. Fuck. Everything was over. A single gasp was all you could manage before you shattered. The tears fell down your cheeks in a steady stream, blurring everything with tragedy. Choked sobs shook your frame as you desperately tried to hold on. To sanity. To reality. Anything to make the pain go away. But it would not disappear, only getting stronger. As though through the glass, you could hear someone say your name. Voice tinted with worry and urgency. But you did not care. The sobs turned into a howl as you slid down to the floor. The sounds coming from your throat sounded foreign and harsh, tearing at your vocal cords mercilessly. Oh my god. That was the break you always feared. There was no end to tears falling down your cheeks onto the floor and beneath your shirt. Slowly breathing became almost impossible, forcing out those pathetic half sniffles that only made everything worse. You wanted to do something. Anything. To make it stop. To forget. To lose the ability to feel things. Your fingers clawed at nothingness, barely losing against the desire to make all that internal pain physical. By any means necessary. Because then at least you could blame it on something concrete. And not just heartbreak. A word you despised because it sounded weak. Stupid. Easily avoidable for everyone but not you. A lost cause. A failure.

“Hey…” warm fingers gently touched your shoulder.

You raised your head. The pounding headache and lack of oxygen, making everything seem twice as difficult. Kat’s blue eyes bore into yours with concern. You have made quite the show. Self-preservation told you to get up and leave, save yourself some shame. But you would not even know where to go. Or what to do. You did not trust yourself to make reasonable choices.

“Are you alright?” Kat’s voice brought you back to the present moment.

An anchor. Maybe this could work… She was still eyeing you closely, unsure about how to act but wanting to be helpful.

“Mmmm no,” you sent her a broken smile, grateful for the handkerchief she handed, “But it’s okay. Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to-” you gestured vaguely, knowing she would catch on.

Tears were still flowing steady, threatening with dehydration should this continue. But at least the wailing subsided to quiet sobs interrupting your sentence every few words.

“Don’t apologise, we all break sometimes,” Kat squeezed your shoulder, joining you on the floor, “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was tempting. Even if terrifying. But you felt like maybe she could be the listener you needed. Someone objective enough, without any ties to Neil or you. Someone safe to confide in that would keep your secrets in safekeeping. But…

“What if someone comes in?” grasping the most idiotic of excuses, you glanced at the airlock with apprehension.

You could just about imagine what would have happened should Neil walk in during your conversation. Your heart would not take it.

“We’ll just tell them to leave,” Kat’s cheeky tone made you turn to her, “I think they’re all a little afraid of me for some reason,” she added, with a small smirk.

She crossed her long legs and sat next to you with both your backs supported by the cupboard doors.

“As they should be,” you replied, feeling strangely at ease, considering everything.

That spark in her eyes was worth the stress over being too forward for someone you barely knew.

“So…” she nudged you with her shoulder as further encouragement.

There was no more escaping it. You took a deep breath, urging your heart to stay strong. Words started spilling out without sense or order.

“Is just... the world is potentially ending in a few days, and here I am crying over the fact that someone doesn’t love me” your throat contracted upon the word as though it was forbidden “I should’ve known better. He never could want someone like me because why would he” more tears as you realised the ultimate truth “I’m not extraordinary. It all feels so stupid, pathetic. But I can’t get over it because I still love him. And I don’t know how to stop” you finished the rant on a sob that forced you to cover your face with your hands.

There it was. Out in the open. You wondered how you could have ever been naïve enough to think your feelings could be reciprocated. For him, it was just a crush. Amplified by the troubles you had to face and the recent difficulties. Nothing more. You were conveniently there when he needed someone to lean on. But if it came to it, he would never choose you.

“It’s about Neil, isn’t it?” something in her voice made you meet her gaze.

You were that obvious, huh? A panicked thought convinced you that everyone on the bloody ship knew about your weakness for the blonde bastard. Yes, even that mess sergeant that always gave you a sorry smile when you approached the counter at mealtimes. Before you could spiral down another wretched rabbit hole, you asked the most innocent of questions:

“How do you know?”

There was no point in trying to convince Kat she got it wrong. She seemed to consider something for a moment before she looked at you with newly found resilience:

“Let me tell you a story,”

You quirked your eyebrow, confused and intrigued. Might as well… Nodding at her silent question, you rested your head against the cupboard. Dried tears tinged your chapped lips with salt.

“When we were in Oslo, staying in a hotel for two nights, TP went out, and Neil stayed with me” she set up the scene with a neutral tone, “We talked a lot about everything really. He asked me about Andrei...” you glanced at Kat, noticing a passing grimace, “Normally I would shut off, but there was that calm curiosity about him, and I didn’t mind saying too much” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

You knew the feeling well, always telling Neil too much because he was such an excellent listener. Confiding even the darkest of secrets and thoughts never felt like anything significant when he reacted with that same confidence and acceptance. That was one of the reasons why the fall was unavoidable.

“Neil has that sort of effect on people,” you returned her smile, shrugging slightly.

Kat patted your hand gently, noting the look on your face. The infatuation and yearning you could not get rid of whenever you did as much as spare a thought towards him.

“I can tell... the point is that he mentioned you, as well” your eyes widened as she paused, “His friend, as he referred to you but not without stumbling over the word a little” she grinned upon your struck expression, “He told me about your role in this. That you’re an asset, excellent sharpshooter, brave as hell and equally reckless at times” my god

You blushed, feeling Kat’s taxing gaze. Friend? Suppose that’s one way of introducing you to people. It was fascinating to know that even after the mess of Tallinn, Neil valued your contributions to the mission. That he would mention you to anyone. Favourably, at that.

“Sounds about right,” frowning, you pondered the implications of her words, “So you knew who I was that morning on the bridge?” the sudden realisation felt refreshing.

That explained her looks directed at you and Neil back then. The visible consternation about the matter of your relationship.

“Yes, it clicked pretty quickly” upon your perplexed gaze, she picked up the story, “I could tell that there was more underneath all the praise. There was that longing in his eyes and a spark that lit up only for you,” Kat added, smiling as you gasped, “I asked whether love was allowed in your line of business” there was boldness in her eyes that made your heart clench. Something important was coming, “He said yes, but it’s dangerous and best avoided. Only that’s not always possible. Sometimes it gets you, and before you realise you can’t breathe another word without missing that one essential person. Your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore, and nothing can be done” oh my god.

You stared at the floor as her words sunk in. It felt surreal, as though you have wandered into a dream. A good one. But dreams could only last so long… Shaking off the haze, you glanced at the woman sat next to you. She was observing you with an enigmatic smirk gracing her features.

“He said that?” your voice came out raspy.

Just a clarification. In case you have misunderstood. But Kat was not surprised.

“Yes,” she nodded, that same sympathetic expression on her face, “Considering what I’ve seen with you and him... there’s only one person he could’ve meant” your heart dropped, as though unused to the idea “I understood it that morning on the bridge when despite the awkwardness, he was willing to defy everyone else for your sake”

Your mind wandered back. Neil’s constant presence by your side, his hand touching the small of your back and then staying there for longer than necessary. His support and trust placed in your hands without hesitation. Right now, even something that insignificant felt unattainable. But it did happen. Could it be that he meant you? Unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions, you stood up. Pacing in the tiny room, a protest came up, spilling out of your mouth:

“But I just heard him tell TP that he doesn’t love me” you swallowed hard as the reminder of the reality hit.

It was one thing to know it. Another to put it into words once again. You felt like screaming, demanding answers from the main culprit of this whole mess. But it was too dangerous. Another heartbreak could be lethal in its consequences.

“Sometimes we lie to ourselves to save the pain” the quiet certainty of Kat’s voice kept you grounded.

It felt risky to believe that he was pushing you away out of fear. But what if… No. You met her inquisitive gaze, hoping to convey the confusion and desperation. She must have understood for she added:

“He’s still coming to check up on me every evening, and the last two days he’s been a little… strange” the meaningful pause felt like bait.

One that you did not hesitate to take.

“How do you mean?” stopping mindless trotting, you sat down on the stool.

“Quiet, wistful, as though something was troubling him, threatening to spill out if he wasn’t too careful” a long taxing look; it sounded familiar, “Trust me, I don’t mean to give you false hope, I just thought you should know that before deciding on any further action” Kat got up and approached you.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, she squeezed it. You felt immensely grateful. Even if a little speechless… Because all of that was a lot to take in. You desperately needed a long afternoon spent in bed, staring at the ceiling and processing the eventful morning. Was it still morning?

“It means a lot, I’m not sure how I could repay you” finding the words again, you gave her a helpless smile.

“Just try to be happy. And don’t give up on things that seem too good to be true. Sometimes those are most worth keeping around” the depth of melancholy in her eyes was startling, “What will you do now?” the tentative tone assured you of the intent behind the question.

It was Kat’s way of saying: don’t do anything stupid. You could not promise that to anyone. The wounds were too fresh; emotions barely kept under control. Anything could happen. But you did not want to alarm her.

“I’m not sure. Think, probably” an unconvincing nonchalance had to do, as unprecedented honesty took voice “But I’m beginning to realise that if I won’t be able to… have him… I’ll just let him be. He deserves the best more than anybody else” you finished the thought and met her eyes.

A passing shock you found there was intriguing. As though your words reminded her of something, and she needed an additional moment to recover. God knows what sort of secrets everybody held on this god-forsaken ship… If the weight of the past and the unsaid could sink boats, it would have been long over. For everyone.

*** You thanked the gods (and Ives) for letting the topic of the lock wait out a little longer. Instead, the next morning’s meeting concerned the splinter unit, the who, and the how. As a result for once, no voice has been raised throughout the two hours spent on the bridge. Nothing much has been decided, but you did not mind. The burden of the last few days rested on your shoulders, preventing sleep or any form of relaxation. The word ‘tired’ did not even begin to describe it. But duties had to be put ahead of any personal issues and so you took part in the confab as usual. Seeing Neil after everything felt like a stab straight in the heart. His silence and the complete lack of acknowledgment of your existence were the added twist of the hilt.

The moment the meeting was over, you bolted out of the door in desperate need of fresh air. It was bound to rain later as the entire deck was covered in strange puddles that formed out of nothing. Perks of inversion and all that. Lost in thoughts concerning the locks, blonde bastards, and the torture of love as a concept and a feeling, you forgot about the golden rule of inverted rainfalls in the making – caution upon stepping on the wet surfaces. Turning around the corner, your foot slipped. Fuck. All you could do was flail your hands helplessly while praying that the fall will not be painful and that it will not detach the oxygen tank. Suffocation was not the death of your choice.

Suddenly the fall was interrupted with a strong grip on your waist. Hands pulling you upright, back to standing. The hold felt familiar. And forbidden. Turning to face the saviour, you were struck by the sight of the blue eyes that haunted your every waking hour. Every dream too. He was close, with hands wrapped around your waist securely. Somehow this felt worse than the fall. You half expected Neil to let go any second now, step away and yell at you for being clumsy. Or maybe just for existing. But he was still there. One of his hands slipped down onto your hip. Speechless, you kept on gazing into his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. All you could see was increasing the confusion. Desire. The boundless depths were drawing you in. Neil pulled you closer. Something in his face made you believe that if it was not for the oxygen masks, he would have kissed you. His gaze roamed across your features, intense, relentless, as though he could never have enough of you. It felt like being stripped bare, left exposed and vulnerable. Despite trying, you were unable to put up a guard, showing him all that he was not supposed to know instead. Everything you tried to hide and deny, bury deep inside so it could be forgotten. Well not anymore… Whatever Neil saw in your eyes woke him up. You noticed a passing frown, replaced with increasing shock. And then horror. What the hell. Before you could even process what happened, he let go and took a hasty step back. He looked sick, pale with fear and panic. Then, just as you tried to find any relevant words, Neil spoke:

“Be more careful next time,” cold and curt as though nothing happened.

He walked off briskly, disappearing into the darkness of the training grounds. What the fuck? A single drop flew up from the deck, splashing onto your chin. The rain has begun. You felt strange. Suddenly mourning the fact that you have been saved from suffocation. It would have been simpler. Less painful. Less terrifying.

*** No matter the hours passing by, or the thousands of different grounding techniques you have attempted, nothing was helping. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you wanted a multitude of things. To get blackout drunk in the hope of forgetting this morning ever happened. (You checked the galley, utterly disappointed to have found nothing with the necessary voltage). You wanted to talk to someone, briefly considering visiting Kat further down the corridor. But that would have meant being even more vulnerable. And a burden. So nope. At one point, you once again considered marching outside without the mask, letting the inverted lung membranes and fucked up rain do the rest. But you did not want to end the life itself. That was not all that bad. You liked your job, the various people you have met along the way. It was only that the current predicament was… unbearable. There had to be a different option.

Then mindless pacing replaced the stillness of lying down. Window, door, and back again. To be repeated for at least an hour. Your thoughts swirling around everything that has been said. Everything that happened. Kat’s story. The look in Neil’s eyes. What if… what if? The unknowns kept multiplying in your head, driving you insane with the extent of what you did not understand. You always hated those moments of suspense. Unsure whether to give up, let go and try to move on, or to keep trying, hoping. Your heart could never process them well without breaking and shattering into millions of pieces. Fuck.

There was one way out of it. One that you tried to push to the back of your head for the few past hours because it was too terrifying. But you were slowly running out of alternatives. One look out of the window told you that you had spent at least six hours like this. It would not do. It was either him or nothing. But you could not survive the insufferable without knowing which one it was. Taking a deep breath, you stopped in the middle of the cabin. This is it. You knew what had to be done. You put on the sweater as though in a trance, making sure to repeat silly affirmations in the quiet of your mind. It had to be alright. If it wasn’t, there were always the seals left…

The walk down the short corridor felt like ascending the steps to the guillotine. Only whatever might happen could be worse than beheading. Your hand shook as you rapped on the door to Neil’s cabin. The sound felt like the worst mistake you ever made. It was too late to turn back. After a very long moment, you heard shuffling inside. When the door opened, you were shocked by a few observations all at once. Neil’s eyes were reddened, hair in absolute disarray. When he realised that you were the intruder, his hands automatically went to smooth the strands in some way. Making even more mess in the process. In any different situation, you would have found that endearing. But your heart was too heavy. You eyed him instantaneously, gaze slipping over the fitting black thermal shirt and the joggers with narrowed cuffs. Not helpful. As you glanced back at his face, you noticed the intensifying confusion. That was the chance to speak…

“Can I come in?” a tentative start to make him more likely to agree.

The shock in his blue eyes slowly changed into careful curiosity. Neil gave you a once-over before opening the door wider and stepping back.

“Of course. Friends are allowed to visit each other” a hint of impatience as though he already had enough.

But that was not the most infuriating bit…

“Friends?” you crossed the threshold and met his eyes with the face of stone, “Sure, that’s one way of looking at what we are” the lack of reaction was inspiring, “Or were” you took a look around his room.

Equally small cabin, littered with a few personal objects. His was phone abandoned on the bedside table, a change of clothes on the floor. A naïve idiot would have taken a moment to consider the fact that maybe he was not as well as you thought. But you were past that, desperate to get answers. A reaction. An end to this madness. With resolve ever-increasing, you sat down on the edge of Neil’s bed, ready for the battle ahead. Meeting his perplexed gaze, you let the penny drop:

“I wonder with how many friends have you been kissing on the bed for two hours” a flash of recognition and then a frown.

As expected. But it still hurt.

That moment from the afternoon before the morning plane to Tallinn was one you often replayed in those desperate hours when nothing seemed to help. You were lying in bed in your room back in London, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging kisses like compliments every few minutes. Sometimes Neil would let his hands become more daring in their caress, causing goosebumps all over your skin. Bringing out sighs and making your heart overflow with love and hope that you finally found what you have been looking for. You felt wanted. You talked a lot about the future, sharing different ridiculous plans for how it could play out. Neil promised to visit your prospective farm with the sheep and dogs. Back then, judging by the look in his eyes, you dared dream that perhaps he would want to be a part of those days still to come. Now, looking at the blonde man awkwardly perching on the chair in front of you, nothing made sense. He stayed for the night then, allowing you to hug him close until the morning. You woke up first, watching him for a few minutes. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Relaxed face with hair sticking up. Calm and content. The warmth spreading from your heart inspired you to press a kiss to his lips as a means of wake up. The sight of Neil sleepy-eyed, peering up at you with a fond smile gracing his features was worth much. Maybe even the current tortures…

Facing him now, you could see the frown deepen.

“Painful memory?” you countered, watching him closely for any hints.

A mask was put on well. But there were flashes of something there. A potential… A possibility of getting burned too.

“In a way,” Neil grimaced, avoiding your piercing gaze.

He was uncomfortable, mindlessly picking on the skin around his nails and tapping his foot. That was the signal to keep on pushing. Until he would be forced to be honest.

“That’s a shame. It’s one of my favourite ones” as he looked up, you offered a deadpan smile, “Just like Oslo,” a shrug complemented with a quick scan of his body, “Though I’m not sure about that… ending,” feigning thoughtfulness you ended the harsh scrutiny.

The point was to back him up against the wall without making him throw you out. That tiny voice at the back of your head told you that he would have done that already if you were not in any way important. That voice was too confident.

“What is your point?” Neil bit back, betraying the level of annoyance you have brought with the innocent reminder.

You knew there was no more skirting around the issue. Now or never.

“Why did you do that earlier? Why did you hold me like...” you trailed off, unable to put into words what it felt like.

Like what? Like a lover. Like someone you actually cared about and not just an irritation. Like someone you could want in your life. But you could never say that to him.

“I was being a gentleman” Neil glanced at you with painfully fake indifference, “Women tend to appreciate that,” a shrug that could not fool you.

Women. The spark of jealousy burned bright. Because what if you were just another distraction. Nothing special. But then the things he said to Kat suggested otherwise. You held onto that thought and squared your shoulders. The game was on.

“...Right,” a sceptical glance in his direction before you continued, “Was that look gentlemanly too? Because last time I checked, gentlemen didn’t tend to look at women as though they wanted to…” trailing off, you awaited the response.

That would mean he took the bait. And the case was not yet lost.

“What?” the lazy tone made you meet Neil’s gaze.

He looked… off. As though before you knocked, he was not exactly fine. It was that nervousness and unkempt appearance that betrayed him. On its own accord, your heart gave out a painful thump, anticipating the fact that Neil too might have been hurting. But why? Ignoring the distraction, you found the needed words and dropped them carelessly.

“Devour them” you held his gaze confidently.

The verb felt right. As though Neil was not trusting his instincts, he looked down, breaking the contact. Putting up further guards. Bingo. He scoffed, throwing in cruelty to the mix:

“And here I was thinking you’re over… this” a vague hand gesture to show what this meant.

You. And him. That something that both was there and was not. Or rather, he wanted it to cease to exist. Only it was not that easy.

“I never said that” putting on the necessary emphasis, you kept on staring at him until he looked up.

Mouth open for another quip. That same steel-blue eyes and clenched jaw. Whatever you have been doing was working. Slowly aggravating him to the point of discomfort. You had to keep the upper hand. Neil seemed to consider something, restlessly fiddling with a pen he picked up from the bedside table. After a beat, he spoke up:

“Why are you here?” weariness in his eyes as he gave out a long exhale.

Easy question… right?

“Because I want answers” it could not be any simpler.

He flinched, letting you see the extent of panic hidden underneath the annoyance and casualness.

“What makes you think I’ve got them?” an arched eyebrow adding the mocking intonation.

The meter of space between you felt like an ocean. He was close enough for you to brush away the strand that has fallen into his eye if you only leaned in. And yet so far that you felt alone, alienated by the cold scrutiny. You had to keep going, tearing at the carefully build up armour hiding him away from you.

“Because you always have words. An abundance of them” you waited till he looked at you again before pressing on “Be it things you probably wish I have forgotten that you have once whispered between kisses” a pause, noticing the boundless unease in the blue eyes “Or all those lovely adjectives you have given me the last couple of days” using the moment of hesitation, you added, “But maybe you were right, and I am stupid, emotional-”

You could give him the whole litany. Your legacy. Exactly how much you were worth in Neil’s eyes. Unless it was a lie…? Before you could begin, Neil raised his hand, interrupting sharply:

“Okay, I get your point” no pride in that frown, almost as though he regretted it, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” the apology took you by surprise.

As did the sudden change in his face. Neil held your gaze with unusual sheepishness. As if even the act of looking at you was dangerous. Tearing the skin from his lower lip, he was the epitome of insecurity. There was no time to falter.

“Everything?” you prodded, mindful of the poker face you had to maintain.

You could not lose him now. Neil hesitated for a short moment before responding:

“Yes,” another second of eye contact, and he got up, impatiently touching the doorknob “If this is all you wanted, then I’d rather be alone-”

No. You leaped up, reaching out before he could finish the sentence. As your hand landed on his forearm, his eyes snapped to you in shock. He was not expecting you to breach the touch barrier. But there was no other choice. With heart hammering in your chest, you felt your throat tighten. Please not now…

“No,” emotions exposed in the tiny voice crack, “Neil, I’m tired of this, of you not making any fucking sense and expecting me to accept it” pleading, you let your fingers wrap around his wrist.

That had to do. Judging by the terror in his eyes, it was already too much. You could feel your resolve waning. Terrified of the consequences if this backfired. Of what you would have to do if he rejected you once and for good. Of the pain you would have to face then. But you had to be brave. He swallowed hard. You wondered what caused the goosebumps on his skin.

“If this is about earlier, then you’re blowing it out of proportion. Be more reasonable” there was a raw edge to his voice that was new.

You were close now. Enough to force Neil to stare at the ground to avoid looking at you. You noticed those dark circles under his eyes. And the tension spilling out in waves. He was scared of you. And that was a horrifying discovery. Your eyes were burning as you begged your heart to hold on. You had to survive this.

“It’s not just that” betraying the nerves, you took a greedy inhale, “It’s what you told Kat in Oslo. It’s how you look at me” following potentially disastrous instincts, you tipped his chin to meet his eye, “It’s all those sudden switches when you seem so cold and calculating and yet so separated from the real you” running out of breath, you could only stare at Neil.

The widened eyes and parted lips told you exactly how shocked he was. You did feel bad for bringing Kat into it. The argument was too strong to let it go. And it worked if his silent panic was anything to go by. He was desperately searching for words, unable to tear his eyes away from yours as though what you said was a binding charm.

“Why do you think you know the real me?” finally, Neil settled upon the question.

One last attempt at making you forgo this madness. Only there was nothing convincing in his delivery. Eyes hazed, showing you fear and uncertainty. A blood droplet on the lower lip where he tore through the skin. Ignoring the most innate of desires to wipe it off, you cupped his cheek. Neil gasped, frozen in the spot. Could it be working? Sliding your hand down, you interlocked your fingers with his. Everything felt surreal. As if you were not a part of the scene. But you had to persist. To finish what you started.

“Because you once told me that you’ve never lied to me. That I’m very important. Your everything, even” your voice broke again on the last sentence as you tightened your hold over Neil’s hand, “And I understand that you could have changed your mind, but…” you hesitated, feeling him shudder.

Oh my god. Your heart broke for the umpteenth time as the fact dawned on you. Neil was shivering slightly as though he was cold. But there was no draft. Nothing to cause it apart from your presence, words, and the physical touch. A choked sob built up in your throat.

“…why are you trembling when all I’m doing is holding your hand? Am I that revolting?” the questions were interrupted by a sniff you could not hold back any longer; there was time for honesty, “The last few days have been awful, making me want to stupid things just to feel something different than heartbreak. I’m not saying that to get your pity, but if I got it all so wrong then tell me now. Because I’m not sure I can survive much longer like this” after finishing the speech, the tears trailed down your cheeks uninvited.

It was all there for him. Nothing to add. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears. For a second, you felt suspended in time, unable to do anything but stare at Neil, who seemed utterly speechless. And then his face fell. Eyes fell shut as he let out a heart-shattering whimper. Tears started falling down his face as you tried to brush them away. You have not seen him that broken since the aftermath of TP’s death. He tugged his hand out of your hold to cover his face, turning away. Christ… The searing pain was back, this time making your heart bleed for Neil. You did not know what to do, powerless and paralyzed with a multitude of thoughts and feelings. After a minute which felt like an eternity, Neil faced you again with red-rimmed eyes and tragedy in his gaze. That was the needed wake-up. Stepping back into action, you placed your hand on his chest. Just over the beating heart. A gentle encouragement.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that it’s over because I still…” the breathless words tinged with panic and struggle as he fought for every gust of air, “I can’t keep on…” another sob, shaking his whole body “You’re…” a sharp intake followed by instant defeat.

Immeasurable anguish in Neil’s eyes was another reason to find the strength you did not know you had. Maybe it was worth it.

“What? I’m here with you and willing to listen. To do anything but please just make me understand” holding back more tears, you made sure he saw the determination painted on your face.

Slowly you were coming to terms with the reality. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked.

“I don’t know how to…” Neil trailed off, looking for answers all over the floor and ceiling, “I’m tired of having to pretend when you’re all I…” a moment of hesitation as his eyes widened.

He did not intend to say that much. You’re all I… what? Before you could find ways of pressing on, he turned away again and sat down on the bed. A frown etched deep into his forehead. Eyebrows furrowed. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. This was bad. Awkwardly, you shifted from one foot to another. Words were escaping you both.

“Then don’t. I won’t bite” your useless quip was received with an ill-disguised dry chuckle, “Call it naïve, but I don’t think it’s anything we can’t fix if we…” shit.

You knew what was there on the tip of your tongue. It was too early. Fuck knows if he even… But he had to. There was no other force in the universe that could cause this much pain.

“If what?” Neil caught your mistake with strange emotion in his eyes.

As though he wanted you to spell it out. You could not give in. Some words had the potential to destroy, and it was too fragile. A freshly opened wound you still had to mend somehow.

“Don’t make me say it again” a whisper to make him understand your actions.

After a beat, Neil nodded. He seemed exhausted, slouching and staring at the floor unseeingly. That feeling of helplessness threatened to come back with force as you were running out of ideas to make it work. To get him back somehow. Then his voice broke the tense silence:

“Christ…” a long exhale before he looked at you again, “I don’t even know where to begin, but…” resignation passed through his face.

You felt a strange spark of hope flicker in the depths of your heart. It did not look like rejection. It did not look like anything you have ever experienced, and yet it made so much sense. Because after everything you have been through, there was no way this could be easy. Kindling that building fire, you cautiously took a step forward, maintaining the eye contact:

“Yes?” the most neutral of tones, holding the emotions at bay.

Everything not to scare him off. You made it so close. You could give up now. A hint of a sad smile upon Neil’s lips was encouraging…

“Come closer. I want to…” he reached out a hand you gladly took, letting him pull you nearer.

It did not matter what he wanted. Only that you could give it to him. Anything. Everything. Upon the sudden surge of courage, you covered the remaining inches of space and straddled his lap in one smooth movement. Another gasp as Neil glanced at you with obvious amazement. Then, as though he worried that even this was too much, he looked down at where his hands tentatively settled on your hips. This position was familiar. And yet, you felt different, unable to make sense of the myriad of emotions and thoughts occupying your mind. All that mattered was Neil. His hesitant but intimate hold. The hair falling into his eyes. Shallow breaths escaping through the parted lips.

“It’s alright, look at me,” gently you lifted his chin so that you could meet his gaze.

Blue eyes full of longing. For you. Exhaling sharply, you knew well enough what to do. You wound your hands around his waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. That too felt natural. After a second, Neil relaxed, melting into your hug as if that was exactly what was missing. At that moment, with head resting in the crook of his neck, at last feeling as though there was a point in all this, your eyes welled up. No matter the suffering, this had to be it. Your everything. Neil breathed you in, warm puffs of air causing shivers all over your body. There was no point in pretending.

“Please come back to me,” you whispered against his skin, letting tears trail onto his shirt.

Neil tightened his hold, hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. All it took was a kiss he pressed onto the exposed skin of your collarbone to make you tremble.

“I never left,” the hesitancy told you he did not believe it either.

“You did. But maybe… I’ll do anything to have you back” the urgency in your voice causing Neil to lean back.

He wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, taking an additional moment to caress your neck with tenderness. You could only lean into his touch, feeling as though whatever might happen has already been decided. There was no way you could let this go. Neil seemed to consider something quickly before he spoke:

“All those words… they fail me when I’m trying to explain what I was doing” his voice was raspy with the weight of emotions, “Or why. Because I’m scared of making it come true. It’s as if once I say it… it might…” he paused, searching for words in your eyes.

“Become real?” you offered, running your fingers through his unruly hair.

You were right. It was all an act. The elation was restrained by worry and love. It didn’t matter.

“Yeah…” Neil swallowed hard, “And then there’s all this mess in my head… The thoughts that just won’t shut up. I’m so fucking tired of… of-” the familiarity of his words causing another flash of pain within your heart “I can’t ask you to-” he cut himself off as though the idea was unspeakable.

You caught a sight of something darker within his gaze. They always said that actions speak louder than words…

“Neil, I said I’ll do anything. I mean it. What do you need?” you met his panicked eyes with resilience.

It took him a longer minute to stop staring at you. To wake up. And then, as simple as it can be:

“You. I need you,” touching his forehead to yours his breath ghosted your lips, “But after everything I did, I wouldn’t expect you to want me… like that” the depth of remorse was heart-breaking.

You already knew what the answer would be. Nothing else mattered. Regrets, worries, and fears had to be abandoned for the sake of this.

“The trouble with the heart is that it doesn’t care what you’ve done. Only that this is you,” smiling lightly, you cupped his cheek, “Just… kiss me. Like you mean it. Like you could love me. And then we’ll see if we can make it work,” unsure where the words came from, you faltered.

But before any vicious doubts could step in, Neil closed the gap. His lips slowly glided over yours, reminding you what it felt like. It did not take much persuading for you to open your mouth, deepening the kiss. It felt like coming home after a long time away. Like that first step over the threshold when one is unsure what they will find. Only to realise that everything is in the right place. That they should have never left. You tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him even closer. He groaned upon the sensation, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. A sigh escaped your throat as Neil’s hands ventured underneath the sweater. For the first time in a while, everything made sense. You tugged at his shirt just for the sake of it as a means of showing him how wrong he was. You wanted him more than before if that was possible. The kiss consuming you both with its intensity and force. Your tongues participating in their dance, brushing against each other, increasing the intimacy of the moment. It finally felt right. Slow, unhurried, but desperate. Unforgettable.

You did not even know when it ended. One moment you were willing to give up breath if only to make it last longer. The next Neil had you pinned to the bed, breathless and shocked. When you met his gaze, the depth of expression told you what it meant. Finally.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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lillupon · 3 years

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Soccer players!Minwon enemies to lovers

available on twitter

minwon w photoshoot encouraged me to dust off the soccer players!minwon enemies-to-lovers fic i wrote 4 years ago and never posted. i thought it was too ooc even for a fanfic, and they hated each other so much that i couldn't make them smooch lovingly ;;

reading this whole thing makes me scream omfg i can’t believe i wrote this LMAO it’s so far out of leftfield for me

The ball comes hurtling through the air and Mingyu launches himself into the opposite corner of the goal, just barely getting his hands around it. Hitting the ground knocks all the breath right out of him, but the ball is safely tucked against his stomach. He’s on his feet less than a second later.

“Fucking wake up!” Mingyu screams at his defenders, and in particular, Wonwoo. They’ve been sleepwalking through the entire game so far. Reacting seconds too late. From where he’s standing, his teammates look like they’re watching with their fingers up their noses as the ball sails over their heads.

“You can fuck right off, Mingyu!” Wonwoo flips the finger as he jogs backward.

Seething, Mingyu throws the ball towards Seungcheol, far away from Wonwoo, just out of spite. He can’t stand that guy. Wonwoo’s a mouthy son of a bitch. Thinks he’s hot shit just because he’s signed for half a million dollars a year and makes more money off endorsements than the rest of the team combined.

It’s only been thirty minutes and Mingyu feels like he’s been playing for hours. He’s heaving for breath. Pissed off at his defenders for letting the ball slip between their legs. If they had been doing their jobs properly, the other team should never have been close enough to even attempt a shot. But mostly, Mingyu’s frustrated at himself for letting in three goals. He’s getting sloppy, he knows. The pressure is getting to him. It’s a high-stakes game, one that will either bring in the sponsors or have their current ones jumping ship. The way things are going now? Mingyu may as well pull his pants down and present his ass for the reaming he’s going to get from their coach.

The referee blows the whistle, signalling the end of the first half of the game. They’re down four nil and the morale of the entire team is starting to flag. They want to give up, Mingyu can tell. It’s almost impossible to recover, especially since no one’s head is in the game. Mingyu can’t talk, either. He can barely see straight past the red haze clouding his vision.

He storms into the locker room without a single glance at his teammates. He yanks off his gloves and whips them into the far wall. They’re made of fabric, but when they hit the wall, it sounds like a gunshot going off.

Someone grabs Mingyu by the shoulder and wheels him around. He comes face-to-face with Wonwoo who looks as angry and frustrated as Mingyu feels. His brows are drawn into a furious vee and his cheeks are blotchy with red. He gives a shove that has Mingyu stumbling back into the lockers with a metallic rattle.

“What the fuck was that?” Wonwoo snarls.

“That’s what I want to ask you! Because it’s looking to me like you’re playing for the other team. Is someone paying you to throw the game?”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Oh, fuck off. You’re acting like it wasn’t you who let in all those goals.”

“Those goals would never have happened if you were doing your job properly, and you know that.”

“Yeah, just pin your failures on me,” Wonwoo says. “I wasn’t the one looking the other way when number fourteen scored.”

“I don’t think you understand how this game works. If you were doing your job properly, number fourteen shouldn’t have even gotten to me.”

“Sure, let your defenders do all the work. I guess you’re just getting paid to scratch your ass out there,” Wonwoo sneers.

A growl rips from Mingyu’s chest and he lunges, arms outstretched. Suddenly, Seungcheol is there, restraining him with an arm around his waist. Mingyu shoves him off. Doesn’t take his eyes off Wonwoo for a second. With a huff, Mingyu yanks down his jersey to straighten it out.

“What the hell’s the matter with you two? You guys are teammates, not on opposing sides of a war. Jesus,” Seungcheol, center back, says. He’s a good guy, veteran player. A real pacifist with more sense than anyone Mingyu has ever met. “We’re all trying our best out there, okay?”

“I wonder about that,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath.

Before Mingyu can respond to that, Seungcheol says, “Take a walk, Mingyu.”

“Me?” Mingyu asks, incredulous. “Why do I—”

Seungcheol fixes him with a deeply unimpressed look that has him falling into a grudging silence. Mingyu turns on his heel and leaves.

He finds himself in the storage room. It’s dark. He fumbles his way to the back. There’s a stack of mats in the corner and he punches them a few times to loosen the frustration coiling inside him. He takes a deep breath, holding it for three seconds before exhaling slowly. He’s been doing a lot of yoga and breathing exercises lately, trying to get all zen and shit. He’s not sure it’s working.

Mingyu scrubs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. He can’t help but feel like this game went to shit because of him. He says a lot of things to the defenders when they’re slipping, and he means every word. But when it comes down to it, he’s the one who either saves the ball or lets the other team score.

The door swings open then, letting in a flood of light. It’s Wonwoo.

“Jesus, what the fuck do you want?” Mingyu asks.

Wonwoo is smiling at him, which is never a good sign. “Seungcheol told me to apologise to you. Said it wasn’t good for us to go into the second half angry and resenting each other.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes. “So? Are you going to?”

“Take a guess.” Wonwoo comes closer. Mingyu squares his shoulders, ready for a fight. “I’m here to tell you to open your fucking eyes next half, you talentless piece of shit.”

“You need to sit the fuck down,” Mingyu snarls at him. He’s shaking with anger and adrenaline, blood pumping so hard it’s like he’s still out there lunging for the ball. He’s had it with this kid—never mind that Wonwoo is older than him. He doesn’t act like he’s older, spoiled brat that he is. “Get it out of your head that you’re better than the rest of us. Because you’re not.”

“I don’t—”

“Shut the fuck up. Everyone hears you complaining on the phone about how your teammates can’t play worth a damn. You mouth off on us and walk around like you own the entire team. This might come as a surprise to you, but you don’t.” Mingyu steps in close to Wonwoo, crowding him in against the wall. Their chests nearly touch and he can feel the heat radiating off Wonwoo. Wonwoo has to tip his chin up to look him in the eye, and it satisfies every petty inch of Mingyu.

Mingyu continues, “You’re just a two-bit rookie who doesn’t know center back from striker. You’re never where you need to be. You don’t pass when you need to pass. You think you can win on your own, and when we lose, it’s everyone else’s fault except yours. The only reason you’re here is because your daddy has connections.” And because you have a pretty face that the sponsors can’t get enough of, Mingyu doesn’t say. Wonwoo’s got the classic K-idol look, with his sharp cheekbones and defined jawline. Too bad he’s an asshole. You can’t win it all, Mingyu supposes.

Wonwoo is glaring up at Mingyu, breathing hard. The colour runs high on his cheeks and his jaw muscle jumps. He’s wound up so tight he looks two seconds away from either punching Mingyu in the face or coming in his pants. “Fuck you, Mingyu, you’re one to talk. You think everything is a challenge to your authority. You act like you’re the poster boy for good behaviour, but you’re the one who’s getting into fights out there, you hypocritical piece of shit,” he grits out. His mouth works, and then he spits a fat globule of saliva at Mingyu.

Mingyu recoils. Drags his forearm across his face. Growling, he grabs the front of Wonwoo’s shirt and slams him against the wall, pressing him bodily against it. They’re nose-to-nose and Wonwoo is going cross-eyed from trying to keep Mingyu in his sights. Jesus, Mingyu wants to bust him up. Make such a mess of his face that he cries every time he walks past a mirror.

Instead, Mingyu ends up glowering at him. He has no idea what it is about Wonwoo that riles him up. Every rookie wants to prove themselves, show that they can’t be walked all over by doling out as many caustic insults as they receive. Everyone’s frustrated and ready to lash out at the slightest provocation after a string of losses, and Mingyu gets that. But for some reason, Wonwoo manages to tick him right the fuck off.

Mingyu’s half hard in his briefs. It’s not unusual. All that adrenaline and pent-up aggression have to go somewhere. He just hates the fact that it’s Wonwoo that his body decides to react to. Mingyu grinds his teeth. His fist tightens on Wonwoo’s collar. Jesus, he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to deck Wonwoo or makeout with him at this point.

They’re pressed together from shins to chest, so it’s no surprise that Wonwoo notices that he’s hard. Wonwoo’s lips curl up into an infuriating smirk. “Don’t tell me this is how you usually react to our fights, Mingyu,” he says. As though he’s not fattening up in his shorts. Mingyu can feel it. “Is this what it’s been about all this time? You trying to get my atten—”

Mingyu smashes their mouths together. Wonwoo makes a muffled noise of surprise. Mingyu’s heart is beating somewhere up in his throat. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, but he knows he’s gotten Wonwoo to shut up for once, and that’s no small success. Wonwoo struggles against him, puts hands on his chest and tries to push him off. Mingyu grabs his wrists and pins them to his side.

“I fucking hate you,” Wonwoo snarls against the press of their mouths.

And then he starts to kiss Mingyu back.

This has been a long time coming, ever since that drunken night that ended with them on the bar floor, dry-humping each other under the guise of wrestling. Wonwoo’s been an itch in his system for months now.

There’s nothing gentle about the kiss. They kiss like they’re fighting, all teeth and not enough tongue. Mingyu wedges a knee in between Wonwoo’s thighs and presses up, causing him to gasp out a moan. Wonwoo rocks his hips down in search of friction, a guttural groan vibrating in his throat.

Mingyu pulls away, breathing hard. He puts his back to the nearby wall to give him something to lean against. “Get on your knees,” he says.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Do you want this dick or not?” Mingyu asks. “I don’t care either way.”

He thinks Wonwoo will back out. It’s for the best if he does. They’re in public; they’re in the middle of a game; they hate each other’s guts; he’s pretty sure Wonwoo has a girl, or at least, someone he fucks, on and off. One of those reasons alone would have made this a colossally bad idea.

Instead, Wonwoo clamps his mouth shut and drops to his knees. Mingyu’s stomach lurches as though he is looking down from a great height. His mouth goes dry and he swallows with a loud and painful roll of his throat. No fucking way. Now here’s a sight he never thought he’d see: Wonwoo glaring up at him, somehow managing to look both pissed off and turned on at the same time.

Mingyu palms himself through his shorts. Wonwoo’s eyes immediately zero in on the movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and whatever shred of hesitancy Mingyu felt burns up.

He pushes his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out and to let his balls hang free. He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and gives it a rough, experimental stroke. A pearl of precum has blurted out from the slit. He smears a thumb over it, the breath shuddering out of him.

Wonwoo is riveted, eyes tracking the way Mingyu’s hand works over his shaft. His own cock is tenting in his shorts. Mingyu absolutely lets it get to his head, his lizard brain preening. A reaction like that, just from a little bit of kissing, just from seeing Mingyu’s dick. In Wonwoo’s defense, it is a pretty good dick, if Mingyu says so himself.

Mingyu jerks himself off. Once, twice. “You want this?”

That seems to snap Wonwoo out of his cock-induced daze. “I’m not going to beg,” he says, but already, he’s leaning forward, mouth falling open in request.

It’s downright nasty, is what it is. Mingyu is sweaty and stinks of Eau de Hardwork. The fact that it’s Wonwoo of all people makes it all the hotter. His nostrils flare as he inhales the musk of Mingyu’s cock. His lashes flutter.

Mingyu feeds his cock to Wonwoo. Gets his hand slapped aside. Wonwoo takes over, curling his fingers around the base of it, suckling at the head a bit to get it wet.

Mingyu inhales sharply when Wonwoo licks a flat stripe along the underside of his cock where a vein throbs. Wonwoo tortures him with those kitten licks, hotly mouthing his way up to close his lips around the head of Mingyu’s cock.

Mingyu doesn’t want to show Wonwoo how affected he is by all of this, but he can’t help the low groan that leaves him when Wonwoo swirls a tongue around the sensitive crown. As though aware of Mingyu’s tenuous control, Wonwoo’s eyes crinkle with amusement. He pops off Mingyu’s cock. His mouth works. But this time, instead of spitting in Mingyu’s face, he dribbles a line of saliva down his length.

“Suck a lot of cock, do you?” Mingyu says. His voice is embarrassingly rough. He threads his fingers into Wonwoo’s hair and tugs in an attempt to get that mouth on his erection again.

Wonwoo’s response is to open wide and swallow him down, hand covering what his mouth can’t.

“Oh fuck,” Mingyu moans, head falling back against the wall with a thud. Unwilling to miss even a second of this once-in-a-lifetime moment, he looks between his legs from under half-lidded eyes. Seeing Wonwoo’s dark head bobbing up and down, hand moving in tandem with his mouth… The sight is as gratifying as the suction on his cock, if not more so.

Mingyu rocks his hips back and forth. This whole thing is so surreal that he can’t help but half-laugh, half-moan. “If I knew all it took you to shut up was a cock in your mouth, I would have done this a long time ago.”

Wonwoo’s teeth flash and Mingyu yanks him off with a hiss, fingers tightening into the short strands of Wonwoo’s hair. Wonwoo’s breathing hard, lips glistening with spit.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Mingyu says, hand tightening and giving Wonwoo’s head a little shake to punctuate his words, “or I’m gonna throw this door open and show everyone what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Wonwoo’s lips curl. “The door is five meters away, dumbshit. I’d like to see you try.”

A flare of anger spears through Mingyu—smug fucking bastard—and he doesn’t even think when he slaps Wonwoo across the face. It’s not a hard slap, but hard enough to let Wonwoo know that he means business. Except that fucker—he moans. The sound is so faint that it might be mistaken for a shocked noise, and it’s quickly covered up by Wonwoo who mockingly drawls, “Yes. I understand, Sir.”

Satisfied, he lets Wonwoo back on his cock. This time, Wonwoo doesn’t waste time teasing and swallows him down.

For a brief moment, Mingyu is still somewhat in shock. His own action took him by surprise. He doesn’t usually slap the people who blow him; he’s usually grateful. But Wonwoo brings out the worst in him. And then there’s the fact that Wonwoo moaned quietly—Mingyu knows what he heard—at the palm strike across his cheek.

Those thoughts are promptly sucked out of his dick. Mingyu doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone who looks so haughty while sucking cock. Sometimes, Wonwoo will pull off to circle his tongue around the head, the corners of his lips ticking up impishly. He’s full aware of the effect he has on Mingyu. Then he takes Mingyu almost all the way down to the hilt. The noises he makes are filthy and carnivorous. Hungry.

Goddamn, he likes this, Mingyu thinks wondrously.

Wonwoo’s eager. Squirming on his haunches. His free hand has found his way between his legs to knead himself. He’s getting distracted, the rhythm he built up faltering.

Mingyu shoves Wonwoo further down onto his length. Feels the tip of his cock hit the back of Wonwoo’s throat.

Wonwoo chokes and pulls off, inhaling on a gasp and coughing. He drags a forearm across his mouth, wiping, and glares up with watery eyes. The force of his glare is diminished by the redness of his cheeks. It’s a look that sends a jolt of arousal straight to Mingyu’s cock.

“Get back here,” Mingyu says. “And don’t get distracted by your own dick this time.”

Mingyu puts both hands on Wonwoo’s head and begins to fuck the tight circle of Wonwoo’s mouth. Wonwoo is ready for it this time. It doesn’t take long before Mingyu transitions from slow and shallow rolls of his hips to full-on thrusting into Wonwoo’s mouth. Mingyu curses, gut spasming with his rising pleasure.

Wonwoo’s throat works around the intrusion. His lips are stretched wide, chin coated with saliva. His eyes are wet, lashes clumped together. It’s all so obscene, so incredibly fucking hot.

Mingyu’s balls draw in tight and his breathing goes ragged. He fucks Wonwoo’s mouth a little faster, grits out, “Oh, fuck—” That’s all the warning Wonwoo gets before Mingyu is shooting his load. Mingyu groans loudly, hips jerking involuntarily. He keeps Wonwoo held down, the sensation of Wonwoo’s throat contracting around him prolonging his orgasm. Mingyu wants to laugh. Holy shit. “Yeah, that’s it,” he breathes. “Swallow every last drop.”

Wonwoo makes a valiant attempt at doing so, but there’s so much cum that it trickles out the corner of his mouth.

By the time Mingyu is done, they’re both breathing hard. Well, it’s Mingyu’s who’s breathing hard; Wonwoo is coughing and gasping for breath.

Mingyu’s not done here yet. “Clean it up,” he says. Wonders how far Wonwoo will allow himself to be pushed before he snaps.

Wonwoo is quiet when he uses the head of Mingyu’s cock to scoop up the errant drops of cum and push it back into his mouth. Then, he laps up the remainder of Mingyu’s release.

Mingyu shivers at the rasp of tongue on his softening cock. Once he’s clean, he tucks himself back into his briefs.

“What about me?” Wonwoo asks.

Wonwoo, rich and spoiled boy that he is, has probably been given everything he has ever asked for on a silver platter. He says “Jump” and people say “How high?” It wouldn’t hurt for him to work for the things he wants; that would be a first in his life.

And maybe, Mingyu is also thinking about how hard Wonwoo gets when he’s pushed around. How that light slap had him moaning softly.

With that in mind, Mingyu pushes his cleats between Wonwoo’s legs. The top of his shoe bumps his erection. “Go on,” Mingyu says. It’s no big deal, he tells himself even as his heart is pounding violently against his ribs, if Wonwoo decides that he’s had enough of Mingyu’s bullshit and stalks off. Mingyu has already gotten what he wanted.

“What?”

“You have thirty seconds to get yourself off. Go,” Mingyu says, prodding his toe against him.

Wonwoo’s eyes round and he flushes a violent shade of red. He opens his mouth as if to protest. But then he doesn’t. Just clamps his lips together and begins to move his hips. It’s possibly the sexiest thing Mingyu has ever seen. Blood rushes to his head, swelling and pounding and pulsing in his skull. A groan escapes Mingyu, as though he is the one getting much-needed friction on his cock.

“Look at you,” Mingyu whispers. “Rutting against my foot like a bitch in heat.”

Wonwoo honest-to-god whimpers. There’s no other way to describe the absolutely tiny, pleasure-filled sound that leaves him, so incongruous with the person Mingyu has always known him to be. He drives his hips down with increased desperation, moaning shakily. He clutches around the bend of Mingyu’s knee, forehead knocking against Mingyu’s thigh.

If Mingyu hadn’t spent just seconds earlier, he would have gotten hard again. Instead, he just watches Wonwoo bump and grind on him with a dry mouth.

Someone knocks on the door, three sharp raps. “Game’s about to start. You two kiss and make up yet?” It’s Seungcheol.

Mingyu yanks his foot away.

Wonwoo sobs out with loss. Tugs on his ankle. “No, I haven’t—”

“Too late. Your time’s up.”

He groans, a truly miserable sound. “I hate you,” he says, glaring up balefully.

“If you’d quit thinking with your dick for two seconds, you’d remember that we’re in a middle of a game,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo stands up on coltish legs.

It actually hurts Mingyu’s heart a little to leave him like this. He leans in to whisper into Wonwoo’s ear, “So this is what’s going to happen. We’re gonna go out there and we’re gonna do our jobs. And if we don’t make a fool of ourselves out there, then I’ll take you back to my room and fuck you so hard you’ll be limping through practice for the next week. Sound good?”

After a moment, Wonwoo relents and says through gritted teeth, “You better. Or I’m going to flip you over and fuck you myself.”

Mingyu snorts. Yeah, that’s the Wonwoo he’s familiar with.

Wonwoo roughly adjusts his crotch. “Jesus, how the hell am I supposed to play like this?”

“If you don’t get your head in the game, we’re going to end up becoming the MLS equivalent of Brazil in the 2014 World Cup.”

Wonwoo blanches.

Miraculously, they end up tying the game at 4-4. It’s a better outcome than anyone could have expected. Wonwoo flashes a wicked smile, looking ridiculously proud of himself. And he should be; a single ball didn’t get past him in the second half.

Mingyu finds himself smiling back.

#my writing

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Forget What I Said (It’s Not What I Meant) 1/3

Happy New Year! The start of 2021 also means it’s time for ✨Captain Swan Neverland New Year✨ so here is my contribution! @neverlandnewyear

Thank you to my co-mods and friends @xhookswenchx and @donteattheappleshook for looking over this for me and also for helping to make my Neverland dreams come true 🥺🥰

This is part 1 of 3 (famous last words)

Rated E for smuts and language

~3200 words

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

Neverland is worse than Hell. Emma’s never actually been to Hell, of course, but it’s an easy conclusion to draw based on the experiences she’s had so far. The heat and humidity is enough to drive a woman mad, and the constant buzzing in her ears from the random insects is becoming nauseating. If she has to swat at her own ear one more time she thinks she’ll snap altogether. But the thing that’s driving her out of her mind most severely is, well, him.

It’s so completely unfair how good he looks. He looks sweaty all the time, but it’s so incredibly sexy because it’s almost as if he’s glistening. The leather clings to his chest in a way that should be illegal, showing off the coarse hair that she’s been dying to run her fingers through.

She gets it, okay? She should be focusing on finding her son and getting the hell out of here. It’s irresponsible of her to be thinking about all the things she wants to do to Captain Hook while on a mission to rescue her kid from Peter Pan. She’s thought it all before. She hasn’t stopped thinking about it. She also hasn’t stopped thinking about him.

She recognizes that she’s behaving childishly. Ignoring him on the ship until he practically corners her in a room is childish. Constantly rolling her eyes at everything he says is childish. But it’s the only thing she can do to keep her damn hands off him.

It became really bad when he started chopping down vines during their trek to make a path through the jungle. The way he swung his cutlass effortlessly through the air until the branches snapped shouldn't have drawn her eyes to the muscles in his back, but it did. And the way he authoritatively led them through the island, begrudgingly telling them all that they needed to know despite how much he clearly hates being here, shouldn't have made her cheeks redden, but it did. Luckily, she can blame that one on the heat of the island.

Honestly, it was only a matter of time. A woman has needs, and when she’s trapped in a dangerous and emotionally exhausting situation for weeks on end, well, who can blame her for taking matters into her own hands… perhaps literally? She nearly loses what little self-control she has left when he starts breaking branches against his knee to use for the fire, his eyes boring deep holes into her own when he catches her staring. Something in her snaps when she wonders what else his strong arms can do.

She chokes down the water inside the coconut she’s (not) enjoying and stands abruptly, noting that her parents have turned in and Regina sits quietly by the fire, and walks past him quickly so that she’s almost at the edge of the clearing when she hears his deep, rumbling voice. “Swan?” he asks, making to stand from his spot beside the fire he always keeps lit.

“I need a minute,” she says under her breath, trying so hard not to turn around and drag him with her. She really just needs a minute away; maybe she can find a stream and splash her face with some water or something.

She’s almost made it out of the clearing when she hears him shuffling behind her, following closely enough that she can feel the heat radiating off of him. Or maybe that’s her. Whatever.

“Hook, I really just need a minute,” she insists. Sure, a part of her still insists on taking matters into her own hands, but what she really thinks she needs is to just be away from the source of her… affliction until she can get over it.

“I heard you, Swan, but it’s dangerous out here on your own. Just allow me to follow behind you to prevent you from falling into any source of danger.”

She rolls her eyes. The last thing she needs is for him to be gentlemanly right now, dammit.

She’s too on edge to argue with him. She thinks anything that comes out of her mouth will be a shout, or maybe that her voice just won’t work at all. “Fine, just... stay away from me,” she finally says, moving swiftly through the thick jungle.

He does something behind her, something between a scoff and a chuckle, and her left eye twitches slightly as fire races through her veins. “If the lady insists,” he says with a timber in his voice that genuinely makes her breath catch in her throat.

“God,” she says, whipping around to face him and finding him standing much closer to her than she expected. “Do you have to talk like that?”

“Like what, darling?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face. He juts his jaw out towards her as his tongue licks along his lower lip, causing her breath to catch.

“Like we’re living in 19th century England.”

“Not sure what that means, my dear, but,” he steps closer to her, raising one brow and smirking as he breathes, “I’m more than willing to let you teach me.”

“Please, you couldn’t handle it,” she says, letting her eyes flutter shut as she shakes her head.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She clears her throat. “Fuck,” she breathes. He cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes in a way that shouldn’t be sexy but so is.

“You need only say the words, love.”

That’s it. He just snapped her like the branches over his knee.

She grabs the lapels of his stupidly ostentatious coat and tugs until his lips are crashing against hers and she’s swallowing his gasp. It’s hot and rushed and wrong, but the fire in the pit of her stomach tells her that something that feels this good can’t be bad.

She slinks her fingers around his neck until they’re pulling at the soft hair at the base of his skull, tilting his head and hers so that the kiss becomes deeper. He groans at the sensations of her fingers running along his scalp in her desperation as his hand finds her jaw and his hook lands on her lower back to tug her against him. When her hips collide with his, she feels the evidence that he wants this as much as she does. Actually, he hasn’t been shy about that, and she’s been in complete denial, so it follows that he probably wants this even more than she does.

She moans far too loudly when he starts trailing his lips down her neck, biting and licking on his way until he reaches her collarbone. She pulls at his hair some more as his wrist continues to press into her back and his hook pokes against her ass. She can hardly breathe as he follows the valley between her breasts with his mouth until he’s shoving her shirt out of the way, likely stretching the fabric beyond repair. She doesn’t care. When his lips press firmly against her hardened left nipple through her shirt, she breathes out, “yes, fuck, yes.”

His hand traces feather-light patterns up her stomach as it reaches under her shirt and forces her bra out of the way until he’s breathing over her exposed nipple. He licks it lightly, just barely making contact but adding enough moisture so that the breeze of the jungle makes her shiver. He then begins sucking it into his mouth and alternating licks and nips until she cries out. She’s so keyed up that she wonders if she can come from this alone. “Is this what you want, Swan? Is this why you’ve been so captious with me lately?” She can’t breathe enough to respond to him verbally, so instead she moans and nods her head as he trails his tongue to her neglected nipple. “Is it because you want me to touch you?” She nods again. “You want me so badly that you can hardly stand to even be near me?”

“Yes,” she moans. He releases her nipple with a pop and moves his deft fingers to the waist of her pants, tickling her skin as he goes. “God, yes. Please take those off.”

He obliges, tugging at her pants until they’re around her ankles before he sinks to his knees in front of her and breathes heavily against her quaking core. She thinks he might press his mouth to her— she’s desperate for him to do just that— but instead, he lifts one of her legs and ducks so that he’s settled between her knees with her pants behind him, caging him close to her once he stands again. “And what will you have me do with you, love?”

She whimpers pathetically when he lifts her at the knees, her core not quite touching him but dangerously close, and she throws her head back and hits it against the tree she’s pressed to. “God dammit, Hook, just touch me.”

He hums out a laugh as he continues to support her weight with his hooked arm and reaches between them with the other, pushing her soaked underwear to the side and stroking a finger up through her folds. “So wet for me already, Swan,” he murmurs darkly against her neck. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Touch me,” she demands again. Then, with a bit more honesty, “make me forget where the hell we are.”

He kisses her deeply, his tongue dancing between her lips, then pulls away to ask, “do you want me to use my hand, or my cock?”

Her breathing stops. She pulls his hair at the base of his neck so that he’s looking at her and can see her pupils blown wide with arousal. “No time for hands,” she tells him breathily, reaching her own fingers down to the laces of his trousers and tugging them loose.

“No? Are you saying you're so wet for me already that you don’t require any... preparation?”

She shakes her head as she reaches inside his slacks and groans when she feels his marble length twitching in her grasp. How something can feel so soft and so hard all at once is astounding, but not as astounding as the amount of space his arousal takes up in her hold.

“Yes. Now would you just fuck me, please?”

“As you wish,” he breathes, guiding his hand to his length and tickling his fingers against her entrance to ensure that she’s slick enough for him to tuck himself inside (she is). When he plunges his cock into her, she cries out again at the pressure and the delicious burn of him stretching her. She was right about him being well-endowed judging by the irresistible feel of him inside her.

He gives her a moment to adjust, then begins to thrust into her at the perfect pace. She’s never experienced that before, usually needing to tell her lover to slow down or speed up several times before they finally get it right. But Killian seems to know exactly what she needs. It’s like he’s a machine, recognizing each of her responses and adjusting accordingly in order to bring her the most pleasure she’s ever felt.

Her shirt has fallen back down so that he no longer has access to her breasts, so instead, he latches his mouth to a spot just below her collarbone and marks her as his, at least in this moment. The way he continues to thrust deeply into her at the perfect angle while his lips roam across her skin sends a shiver down her spine, but when he presses himself more firmly against her to bear her weight so he can move his hand, she nearly screams. His good hand travels to her clit and starts rubbing furious circles against her as his thrusts maintain their steady, perfect pace, and she would be in awe at his coordination if she wasn’t seconds from reaching the most powerful orgasm she’s ever had.

He keeps up with the circles on her sensitive nerves and she tightens her belly and core around him as his velvet length glides through her. She’s never been so close to orgasm in such a short time, possibly not even at her own hands. She can’t stop the manic whimpers and moans coming from her lips as she tightens every part of herself around him before finally letting go as ecstasy washes over her.

He continues to pump into her as she rides out her high, not stopping until she’s a twitching mess before he stops to pull out of her. He holds her close to him as he works himself up with his own hand, somehow still supporting her weight against the tree, before she reaches down and takes over until he’s spilling himself onto the ground at his feet, his head resting against her neck. He kisses against her skin as he comes down from it, and she revels in the softness of his hair at her fingertips for a moment too long.

She realizes what the hell she’s doing once her brain turns back on and then starts wriggling in his hold until he releases the back of her knee and backs up slightly so that her legs fall. Her pants are still on under her boots and wrapped around him, so she’s nearly sent to the ground before he realizes what’s happening and catches her. He ducks down again so that he can free himself and then stands before her awkwardly, his softening length still hanging out of the laces of his trousers.

“That was, uh,” he starts breathlessly, scratching behind his ear.

“A one time thing,” she answers, shaking her head to clear her mind and pulling her pants up. “Don’t follow me, wait five minutes. Go get some firewood or something,” she insists as she starts back towards the camp, still working on her pants as she walks.

She starts to think about how it might be a very, very bad idea for him to get more firewood, based on the fact that watching him handle the branches is what brought her here in the first place, but before she can think too deeply into it, he says, “as you wish.”

Her heart starts racing, and it’s not because of the heat or because she just had an earth shattering orgasm or because she’s turned on by his physical appearance. She could handle those things.

No, this is something else entirely. And rather than deal with it, she does what she does best and pushes those feelings deep, deep, deep into herself, never planning to address them again.

(She really should just stop making plans.)

~~~~

They spend endless days and nights in Neverland. Time is impossible to keep track of, and it starts to make sense why Neal had kept tic marks on the wall of his cave. The only way she’s able to keep track of how many days pass is by counting the amount of time’s she’s had sex with Killian Jones.

She can’t seem to stop. It started as a one time thing, an itch that needed scratching, but she finds now that she needs the release he gives her more than she needs to sleep. So, each night when they find a place to set up camp, they wait for her parents and Regina to fall asleep and sneak away to find a sturdy tree to fuck against.

On the ninth night, she notices Killian talking to her parents suspiciously and they inform her that Neal is alive, allegedly. As if the prospect of her ex dying and coming back to life in the span of two weeks wasn’t enough for her, he pulls her aside on their way to the Echo Caves and tells her that he was hesitant to tell her because he wanted to spare her feelings until they could confirm that Neal was alive. She scoffs. She has no feelings when it comes to Captain Hook.

They get to the Echo Caves and she learns that he feels the opposite. He’s starting to have feelings for her. Real ones. She stares at him because there’s nothing else she can do, until the ground starts to shake and the bridge starts to build itself.

She tells Neal the truth. He hurt her so much, but she knows that a part of her will always love him. It kills her to admit it to herself, never mind to him.

She fucks Hook angrily that night, with him lying on his back atop his stupid coat and her riding him mercilessly until she feels some semblance of control over herself. They’re far too close to the camp for how loud she is, but when they return, she’s certain everyone is still fast asleep.

The two grown men fight over a lighter. Neal gets grabbed by a shadow and she’s frozen. Hook gets grabbed by one and she screams and summons enough magic to light the fucking candle. She ignores the feelings of relief at him being alive when they meet later that night, convincing herself that the extra long kisses mean nothing.

They get Henry back. As much as she’s grateful to be off of that damn island, she almost grieves the loss of her new nightly routine with the stupid asshole.

He knows exactly how to make her tick, so when he finds her on the deck and says something about how he never doubted her for a second, she kisses him just to shut him up. She can’t possibly listen to his praises, filled with emotion and longing and until I met you, so she pushes them aside in favor of the pleasure she knows he’ll bring her.

The truth is, she can deal with everyone else saying things like that to her. When her parents say it, she can rationalize that they’re obligated to encourage her. When Henry says it, it’s because he believes in everyone, not just her. When Neal says it, she doesn’t even believe him at all.

But then Hook says it. She doesn’t want to believe him, but she does. His honest and raw words unhinge her because she has no reason not to believe them. He owes her nothing and has nothing to gain from attempting to woo her because he’s already had her in his bed- well, jungle- countless times. So she believes him. And she’s terrified.

So she continues to do what she does best. She ignores her feelings until she can’t anymore, and she deals with them by replacing them with the pleasure he brings her. A part of her tells her that she can’t continue doing this, but a bigger part of her tells her that it’s okay, because once they get back to Storybrooke, he’ll leave in favor of the sea or of finding another realm to pillage and plunder. Once he’s gone, she can forget any of this ever happened and move on.

It’s a perfect plan, except it doesn’t work. Because he stays.

#csnlny #captain swan #neverland new year #neverland #cs smut #neverland smut #cs ff

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softrozene · 4 years

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Hellooo! I hope you're okay. Can I get a scenario for Benn Beckmann, Crocodile and Smoker with a female reader who confesses her feelings, please ?

I’m doing amazing Lovely. I hope you’re doing wonderful too! <3 I am such a sucker for requests like these. They feed into my love for fluff and cuteness, so I hope you enjoy this! Because of the theme requested and the characters personalities I gave the reader more of a shy girl kind of personality!

Benn, Crocodile, Smoker x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff to the max

Words: 1818

Benn Beckmann-

Benn has a bad feeling the second he saw your cute form go up to the captain. He always gets an uneasy feeling when you talk to Shanks and yes, he is aware he is jealous, and he does not hide it very well, but this time felt different. Mostly because Shanks is giggling like a girl and your face looks beyond flustered.

Normally, he would go to your rescue but the second he sees Shanks look at him he had the urge to run away from his captain’s idiocy. He could not do so after you turn as well and give him a look that makes his heart ache. Whatever is going on he does not like it but seeing that look you gave him, makes him stay in place.

Benn is usually a quiet man and one who definitely does not wear his heart on his sleeve but the crew members who he’s been with from the start of the Red Hair Pirates can see through him. They know how smitten he is with you just as you are with him. It is almost painful that the two of you are not together and that is why while Benn is keeping an eye on you and Shanks from afar, Shanks is trying to convince you to confess to Benn.

The thought terrifies you. Your face heats up like a fire and you feel dizzy just thinking about it. Shanks is making fun of you and you want to hit him but of course, you do not dare. It is all in good faith that he is teasing you anyway.

The worry practically paints your being and Shanks gives in to give you his captain talk.

“Listen (Name), you are a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman. I can promise you that Benn will reciprocate your feelings. On the highly slim chance that he does not I will owe you a date night to lather you up with the romance you deserve,” Shanks promises.

The thought makes you want to gag immediately since you are not interested in your captain and Shanks laughs since you did not hide that. His words did reach you though and you turn around yet again to see Benn staring at you.

It is now or never.

As you walk up to Benn, he kicks himself for staring for so long. Even more, he wishes he knew what Shanks said to you to make your face so flustered.

“Benn?” Ah. The way you say his name makes him smile as he hums in response.

You go for it. “I like you. A lot. I know I may not be the most confident of women but-“

This is really happening. Benn can’t hear your words as the smile on his face grows. He glances back towards his captain who in return gives him a thumbs up. He cuts your now stuttering sentence off as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I like you too, (Name). If you are sure you want to pursue a relationship with me then by all means I accept,” Benn says.

And that was how Benn accidentally killed a crewmember, his new partner, with Shanks as a witness when your body hit the ground and you went to cloud nine.

Crocodile-

“Do you know why you are here?” Crocodile questions.

You look a bit nervous but overall, pretty composed. He is impressed since anyone else would have usually pissed their pants by now. You do not answer him and even though that agitates him he lets it pass since you are one of his most valuable assets.

“You have been distracted. It is affecting your work. Would you like to tell me why?” He asks leaning into his hand.

Despite the way he asked it with a certain gentleness to it, his hook starts to carve into the desk leaving the silent threat. Any other person would be terrified, and it looks like you are, but you are just nervous. Your heart is racing wildly as you try to distract yourself from feeling a bit too hot from the threat of his hook.

“I have a perfectly reasonable explanation,” You start.

You want to tell him, but it may mean your death sentence. This man does not tolerate distractions. The only reason why he has not murdered you on the spot for your suddenly slow work is because your loyalty is as high, maybe even higher than Mr. 1’s loyalty. That is a great feat and one Crocodile appreciates even if he has no problems getting rid of his loyal followers.

He raises an eyebrow and you decide that saying your feelings for him would be worth it even if he decides to take your life.

“I like somebody… Romantically,” You begin.

Your eyes widen however when his hook crashes into the desk leaving a big and ugly scratch. The veins on his neck are prominent and for a moment you believe that he is jealous. It is a silly little thought but one that could bring you to tears with joy. It’s impossible though. You want to cry from embarrassment now. Crocodile is just angry that your romantic feelings got in the way of your work, you convince yourself this.

In reality, the second you admitted this, Crocodile saw red. You have feelings for someone? Nobody but he deserves your kind and loyal personality. You fit him perfectly and he would protect you no matter what. So, he is angry at whoever has your mind and heart right now.

He lost his composure for a second and he regrets it upon seeing your saddened face. Slight pride is in him for being able to get that reaction out of you though because that means you know your feelings for another are unacceptable.

Crocodile decides to go straight to the point. “Tell me who he is so I can destroy him. You are aware that feelings only cause distractions.”

The words sting and hard. He can see you flinch from this and your hesitation is strong. This is a first and he astounded that you out of everyone else may withhold this information. It almost makes him scoff. Of course, he should have known better. Even among the most loyal, they may betray him.

He is ready to crush all his feelings for you at this moment when you open your mouth and freeze. He allows you the moment to say the stupid name, but his eyes widen at what you do say.

“It is you. I like you romantically.”

He can sense your need to go run and hide and honestly? With what he does next he does not blame you. He laughs. Anyone would take this the wrong way which is why he is quick to compose himself and say, “This changes everything. Especially since I return your feelings. It would only make sense that we get involved with each other officially to avoid any more distractions, doesn’t it?”

He seems to have broken you as you stare at him awe that he really feels the same way. He accepts that as an answer.

“Prepare for a date tonight. Expect nothing but the best now that I can freely call you my woman.”

Smoker-

Today felt funny to Smoker for some odd reason. Usually, he is not this dense especially when his subordinates are involved which is why he is getting heavily annoyed that they are whispering amongst themselves while sending him glances.

He can’t recall what he did to warner these glances, but he suspects it has something to do with you as soon as he sees them glance your way. You, as always, are stuck in your head. It makes him stop as he thinks about you for a moment.

You are a strong and resilient woman. At first, he did not believe this with how much of an airhead you were but then he saw you in battle and honestly? He saw you more than a subordinate. He realized how compassionate you were for others. Seeing you in a different light alone made him angry but whenever you are around, he becomes fully aware of his body’s and emotion’s reactions to you. He becomes aware of how the subordinates treat you.

Getting a bit irritated with his feelings, he looks away from you and begins to glance over the ship. Though from the corner of his eye he can see Tashigi talking to you. He huffs more at the thought of you two being closer seeing as you both are the only females on this marine ship.

He looks away and grits his teeth as the irrational thoughts in his head begin to deepen.

“Sir? Sir!” You call out making him jump.

He immediately tries to fight off the blush trying to paint his cheeks as he realizes how close you are to him. You are trying to peer into his face to see if he is okay.

“Are you okay?” You ask genuinely concerned.

Smoker forces him to cough as he nods his head. “Yes. Fine. What is it you need, (Last Name)?”

“I, uh, it really is nothing. I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and that I actually find you really attractive and I know it’s against the rules since you are my superior and all but when I look at you I see a handsome man that I can really build a future with and I haven’t felt this way about anyone else before and I just can’t help admire the way you look and behavior sometimes and-”

Many ands later, Smoker’s face has turned beet red and he can feel the need to vanish into the smoke but from sheer happiness. You, you confessed to him? Even more, you gave a whole speech with your confession and somehow you manage to look adorable as you try and retract your confession. You seemed to realize that you ended up rambling and now became a mess as you try and backtrack the conversation to the original question of if he was okay.

He finally as enough. He can’t help it, especially when he finds out that your feelings are mutual. He grabs your face with one hand, pinching your cheeks as he makes you pucker your lips and he pushes his on top with ease.

It made you shut up… Oh… It made you almost pass out. He can feel the heat off your face as your brain sizzles from malfunctioning.

“Go finish your duties (Name)… I’ll request a night off for the two of us for a proper date,” Smoker whispers as he returns to his serious face.

Even if he does get serious again, you can’t help but notice the slight pink on his cheeks still that is proof you accomplished something with your confession.

#my writing #benn beckman x reader #crocodile x reader #smoker x reader #one piece #fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #scenarios #one piece scenarios #female reader #benn beckman #one piece crocodile #one piece smoker #one piece x reader #fluff

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stubbychaos · 3 years

Text

Saviin’ika Chapter 13 Sneak Peek

So I wasn’t sure what part of this chapter I should post as a sneak peek and I had a few different parts I was super excited about, but after the last episode of the Mandalorian, it felt only fitting to include the Razor Crest :( </3

No warnings for this sneak peek, other than Paz and Din being big dumb himbos (We love to see it) thank you @datmando for letting me scream at you all day about this🥺😭

“I never thought I would ever see anything like this,” You find yourself eventually whispering without even thinking about it, and Paz’s visor instantly jolts upwards to meet your sad gaze, “Whenever my mother and I would look up at the stars and wish to run away from Nevarro, we thought we were just being foolish and far too hopeful. I never would have thought…” Immediately, your warrior grows quiet and solemn, staring up at you as you eventually find your words, “I wish she could see how pretty this is. Maybe she’s here with us--somewhere in the stars.”

He doesn’t say anything after that and perhaps he doesn’t know what to say as you simply rest against the pilot’s chair with quiet reverence, still not quite registering that you are no longer on your home planet. The typically talkative warrior grows quiet, simply letting his leather-clad palms rest upon the blue Beskar covering his thighs as the two of you watch the long streams of starlight together. You can tell that there’s so much he wants to stay, though he refrains as the doors to the cockpit promptly slide open and you quickly turn around at the same time Paz does, both of your gazes meeting the tense bounty hunter’s visor.

“You got a problem, Djarin?”

“Yeah,” Din scoffs, causing the blue warrior to rise to his feet and you let out an exasperated sigh, resting a hand on the Beskar covering Paz’s belly, “You’re in my seat.”

Paz simply grunts as you keep your hand firmly pressed against his abdomen, hopefully swaying him from attempting to strike the hunter. You anxiously shift your gaze between the fearsome warriors, trying to think of some solution to get rid of the tension that is oh so palpable in the small cockpit, though you’ve spent enough time with Mandalorians to know that the majority of them are stubborn and hot-headed. As the two continue to stare each other down, you fear that one of them is actually going to kill the other, going against the whole reason why the Armorer tasked you to take care of both Mandos.

“Do you know where we’re going?” You randomly inquire, effectively distracting both of them as you peer up at Paz with wide eyes, a confused hum slipping past his vocoder as he immediately forgets about Din, “Well, I was just wondering because we told Odisian we would buy something special for him. Do you think that where we’re going, there will be a good marketplace to find him a good gift?”

Before Paz can answer, the hunter speaks in a quiet, albeit strained, rasp.

“Odisian?”

His curiosity surprises you and Paz instantly tenses up, making you think there’s something he’s not telling you, though you decide it can wait until later. You offer Din a soft smile at the mention of the youngling that had been struggling to say goodbye to you just moments ago, “Yes, the child that I mentioned before--the reason why we were late. He was really upset that Paz and I were leaving, but we promised to bring back something special for him. D-Do you know if there’s a marketplace where we’re going?”

Another blanket of awkward silence coats the cockpit, your hand still pressed against Paz’s Beskar-clad stomach as you patiently wait for the hunter’s answer. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to say anything, perhaps thinking your question to be insignificant or silly, and you remember his hesitation long ago when you had asked him what he would do if his quarry was a child. It didn’t make sense to you and it still doesn’t--the way he had hesitated, given the fact that he’s a foundling himself--and you suddenly regret bringing up Odisian to Din, thinking he must not understand why you’re so excited to find the perfect gift for the child.

“We’re not here for a shopping trip,” Din eventually grunts and your shoulders slump a little, though he quietly speaks upon noticing the way you smile sadly and nod, “But I... I think there might be some sort of shopping center where we’re going, since the planet is heavily populated. If we have time, we’ll check it out.”

Without another word, he pushes past you and Paz, and you gaze up at the blue warrior with a small smile, though he seems utterly unamused and unsatisfied with the hunter’s clipped answer. Feeling as though a little progress has been made, you tug Paz back to your seats, though curiosity gets the better of you before he can sit down, “Will you show me around the ship?”

Both of their helmets jolt to the side to meet your owlish gaze, though you’re only staring up at your warrior as he lets out a staticky sigh, nodding his scuffed helmet in a jolting manner and muttering something that sounds threatening to the hunter as you’re led out of the cockpit.

“Let’s go, Saviin’ika.”

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aerynwrites @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @cryptkeepersoul @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @peqchynero @haloangel391 @awhiskeywithawinchester @buckysbeloved @bonesaldente @kawaiitimecharm @karaabove @clydesducktape @misssilvertongue @heartxheat @drownedbytears @lokiaddicted @hayley-the-comet @hayley7242 @paintballkid711 @razzlefrazzum @giselatropicana @luosymekawa @so-done-with-bullshit @silverfish-kingdom @littlevodika *So I never knew why people crossed out URLs on taglists, but apparently it has to do with the user’s settings and them being tagged? Anyways! If your name is crossed out, I swear I tried tagging you, but pls let me know if I’m just being a dummy!*

#sneak peek #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x reader #the mandalorian #ODISIAN PLAYS SUCH A HUGE ROLE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER AND I'M SO EXCITED!!!#Y'ALL SEEM TO LOVE HIM AND SO DO I!! 🥺

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vivithefolle · 3 years

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I'm a bit confused. You said in one post that you thoroughly dislike Hermione and that you had no respect for her at all. Yet ... you like Romione? idk, it seems contradictory tbh. I like when Romione shippers acknowledge her flaws and messed up moments but when someone that dislike and even hate her character that much ships Romione and I see them posting about them and calling them "cute" just seems weird

I’ll share with you my whole thought process so you can understand where I’m coming from:

Itty-bitty Vivi who read Harry Potter for the first time (at 13/14, so not so itty-bitty I guess, oops): Woaaah Hermione and Ron yaay!!! They're awesome I love them! They're my OTP always and forever!! Best thing to happen in Harry Potter!! JKR is a genius!

Slightly less itty-bitty Vivi discovering the Harry Potter fandom online (thankfully years after the ship wars, else I probably wouldn't have survived): Why is there so much hate towards Ron? And why are people so opposed to Romione?? It was meant to be since the first book! Or, okay, the second book is when I realized it was gonna happen, but still! Oh well, here is a fic where Hermione berates Ron for everything and he is the only one actually working for their relationship. Cool, more Romione!

Even less itty-bitty Vivi starting her own Tumblr and going around, adding her grain of salt to debates and talking about stuff: Yeah! Ron is great! He's done bad things of course but Hermione has done her fair share of bad things too! Actually, now that I'm rereading the books, I'm reminded of this person I used to call a friend, who was quite smart and cultured but would often be very harsh to me because they claimed it was “for your own good" and “because I'm more mature than you"… I still wanted to be around them, because they were just so smart and passionate, but we often rowed and eventually they really just went too far and tried to make ME out to be the bad guy and most people believed them because they had a reputation as someone cool and logical while I was known for being emotional… wait, what the fuck, that's… that's exactly what happens in the fandom with Ron and Hermione! What the fuck, was I Ron? Admired their intelligence, praised and supported them, fell in love even but was met with scorn and open disdain?!… no, no, come on. Hermione wasn't that bad.

Vivi rereading Half-Blood Prince (and no, this wasn't about the canaries, but about what Hermione was doing after): Oh my god she was that bad.

Vivi as she ponders alternately: Wait, what about JK Rowling? What does she think about all that? What was her intention, what did she want to accomplish with the characters? I know books belong to their readers but if I want as objective an analysis as possible I must try to understand her thought process while she wrote.

Vivi learning about a staple of British literature called “literary alchemy”: The quarreling couple!! Sulfur and Mercury, the Red King and the White Queen, who must marry for the story to end happily!! And their union is represented by… a rose!! Oh my god, that is brilliant, that is so cool! Romione was ALWAYS going to happen, I knew it! Ha!

Vivi discovering the “[Ron] needed to make himself worthy of Hermione” quote: Wha… but… what? Worthy? As if Hermione was some sort of precious trophy or whatever? What the hell? Wait, Ron had to make himself worthy of her but Hermione didn't have to make herself worthy of him? Is it because Ron is the boy or some shit like that??

Vivi going through JK Rowling's interviews and finding sexism and double-standards galore: Yep, it's because he's the boy. And that bit about Hermione being based off herself when she was younger… ouch. And to top it off the scriptwriter pretty much worshipped Hermione…

Vivi rereading the books again: Is it just me, or does Ron hardly ever get any praise or acknowledgement from the adult characters? Meanwhile Harry and Hermione get stuff like “as good as Charlie Weasley" or “brightest witch of her age"! And, damn, I used to side with Hermione because I love cats, but she was completely awful in POA! She apologized but then the plot made her out to be right even then?? And I always thought her Yule Ball entrance was kinda over-the-top, but damn if that's not compensating for something! Also what the hell, I get that Harry is suffering and all but will someone PLEASE pay attention to the fact that Ron is being bullied BY A FOURTH OF THE STUDENT BODY AND NOBODY SEEMS EVEN REMOTELY CONCERNED????? Also what the hell is wrong with the sixth book, I never liked it much but it's like it's trying to make every character look bad, wtf?? And, and, holy shit I never noticed but Ron was asking legit questions during the Horcrux Hunt debate but Harry kept deflecting or mocking him but it's still Ron who had to apologize in the end??? And I've read a whole post about how Hermione punching Ron is the appropriate reaction for a very small child and not a supposedly “mature" character, and that Harry had to SHIELD RON FROM HER, oh my god?? It's… oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with JK Rowling?

Vivi, in denial: Well, Harry Potter is decidedly not a romance. It's about love, but romantic love is quite far down the priority list when it comes to it. JKR has herself confessed that she wasn't too good at writing romance, and I don't blame her because writing romance is hard. But I did enjoy Romione! When I was little I saw it coming from a mile away, granted I was already savvy in literature but that must have been because she was doing something right! And then the sixth book happened… the sixth book which… which was released after the Harry Potter movies were being filmed, wasn't it?

Vivi looking up the timelines: Oh my god. Oh my god it's even worse, the movies were being discussed before Goblet of Fire came out. Come to think of it, I always found that the Trio felt… different, after Prisoner of Azkaban. Harry and Ron especially felt like they had gotten dumber? And Hermione was suddenly explaining everything when exposition used to be split between her and Ron…

Vivi, in mourning: So that's what happened. Ron ended up being shortchanged to make Hermione look better, because Rowling was fonder of Hermione than she was of Ron, and the scriptwriter too come to think of it. Curse you, Steve Kloves!!!

Vivi, who is nothing if not what Pokémon fans call a nostalgiafag: But… but… yeah, it sucks that Ron was shortchanged, and actually yeah it's a freaking travesty and I WILL freaking spread the world about this, mark my words, but, but I still… I can't help it, when Hermione “looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt" I melt too. When Ron compliments Hermione or tries to take care of her as much as he can I… it still does something to me, I still find myself rooting for them even if I know there's the awful sixth book and the stupid post-Locket beatdown. Their kiss, for God's sake, I've just realized that Ron may have swept Hermione off her feet physically, but it's Hermione who jumped him, you could say Hermione metaphorically swept Ron off his feet!! God damn it, that's good, that's so good!

Vivi, at war with herself: No, I can't let myself be blinded by nostalgia!! The facts are that Hermione shows borderline abusive - even actually abusive - behaviour, this can't be denied! I don't want to root for an abusive relationship! I don't want to root for a relationship that relies on my favourite character being dumbed down to work!!!

Vivi, about to uncover the secrets of the universe: … wait a second. I don't have to.

Vivi, having an epiphany: Reading Solstice Muse's Romione fanfics gives me such happiness because she just gets the characters! She doesn't portray Hermione as perfect and never fucking up, and she always treats what happens to Ron with respect… Well, especially since she can't play them off as a joke since she often makes Ron the POV character. But, yeah! I can still like Romione… if it's well-written. Which, well, isn't the case in the original books… at least, isn't the case anymore after Rowling's bias got the best of her. Even though they do have their great moments.

Vivi, finding purpose in her life: I am going to spread awareness. I am going to tell the world. Fuck, just rereading the books, I've noticed how blatant the favouritism is and how unbalanced it can be. No wonder the fandom seems to collectively scoff at Ron - the books themselves do whenever it's convenient for them! The fandom plays favourites, because the author herself played favourites, and the worst part is that she didn't even realize it! Imagine you spend your life getting into traumatic situations out of love for your friends who always receive compassion and validation for their feelings about said traumas, but YOUR trauma is hardly touched upon and in the rare case it is, it's only to be mocked or used against you… Fuck! You're a piece of work, JKR! And the fandom just swallows it whole like a bunch of lobotomized snakes! Screw it! Screw it, I'm going to say it like it is, and I'm going to say it LOUDLY! People are going to hear about what Ron goes through and we'll see if Harry and Hermione look like the only ones worthy of therapy then!!

Present day Vivi, as she scrolls through the (heavily filtered) Romione tag on AO3: Ugh, another Drarry… and another… and another… oh, a Hinny-centric fic for a change, cool but I'm looking for more Romione than that, sorry. Gah, why is it that Romione appears as a secondary ship everywhere but they can't get their own stories? I've just seen a Snupin come up for God's sake! Oh, finally, a full Romione!! *clicks* … … … awww that was so sweet. Kudos! Okay back to the search… oh, another one!! *clicks* … … … it's Ron-bashing. It's Ron-bashing and it's not tagged Ron-bashing and that's why it showed up in my search AND I'M GOING TO FREAKING RIOT-

#vivi answers #ask #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #ron x hermione #harry potter series #anti jk rowling

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

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pirate king (66) || atz

It’s dark out when wooden boards creak under the tips of your toes lightly, and you glance behind your shoulder to make sure no one is watching you from the ship’s deck before you quickly stride across the pier, hoping the shadows cast from the flickering flames of the torches are enough to shroud you in their darkness.

You’re dressed in one of your Master’s tunics, with a ragged shawl wound around your head to hide your face. Darting down the harbor, you rely purely on your memory to follow the same path your feet had taken seemingly so long ago.

You blend in with the rest of the stragglers littering the dirty seaside hovels, listening to the sound of seawater lapping against the stone docks. The sea winds seem to sense your intent, the trail of salt laced air drifting past your nose and guiding you forward. You double your pace. You’re getting closer.

“Fortune favours the fair...” The raspy whisper curls around your ears, beckons you towards a dingy shack tucked in the recesses of the town, streaked with filth and grime, just as you remember it. Heavy rags and curtains hang from its rickety bamboo frame, the dim light inside barely visible through the thick drapes, suffocating and stifling.

It’s an ominous sight, but you feel no fear as you step forward into the tent without even bothering to announce yourself. You remember the terror you had felt here the last time, even with Jongho at your back, but now, all that consumes you is a ravenous desire for answers.

There’s no more time for fear anymore.

“It’s you!” The fortune teller shrieks, the second you push aside the heavy curtains at the entrance and slip inside. There’s a crash, and you glance up from beneath your hood to see the wizened crone tumbling backwards, knocking over jars of snakeskin and ripping strings of dried talons from the ceiling rafters in her desperate attempt to get away from you. “You, I-”

“Silence.” You say coldly, brushing a spider from your shoulder and she falls silent in an instant, mouth moving soundlessly. “How did you know it was me?”

“Your aura, it’s stronger now, it’s pouring from you.” The fortune teller spits, pressing against the wall behind her in a bid to get as far from you as possible as you cross the cramped hut in three steps to sit on the same chair in front of her table, just as you had so long ago. This chair feels sturdier under you, and you wonder which unfortunate soul bad broken the previous one before you. “Even the biggest fool would be able to tell, why do you think you were not approached on your way here, alone and frail-looking as you are?”

“Huh.” You say curiously, unwinding the shawl from your neck and pulling it free. “That’s a handy skill, now that I think about it.”

“Why are you here, clay one?” The fortune teller hisses, and when you stare back her, she seems smaller than you remember her to be; instead of the looming figure wrapped in darkness she’s merely a trembling, skeletal woman hiding behind her rags. You shrug, prop your chin on your palm and look at her with intent eyes. She flinches.

“You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you?” You ask quietly, your gaze unwavering. “Tell me my future.”

She sputters.

“It- It doesn’t work like that.” The fortune teller spins away from you, but you can see her fingernails, caked with dirt, dragging frantically against the rough grain of the tabletop. “The more one seeks out the future, terrible things come to pass. The more someone plays a god,” her luminous eyes meet yours through her wild tangle of curls, the colour of pond water muddied with scum and filth, “the higher the price they pay, the deeper they sink. But they never turn back until it’s too late, and by then, the price is too high for a mortal to ever pay.”

You frown. “How does someone play god?”

The second you say that, the air in the room changes. You can feel it, the way the temperature seems to drop, the way the flames burning at the ends of the waxy candle stubs flicker weakly, how the rats squeak in the cages and the birds flap desperately. The sea breeze whispers in your ears and the fortune teller stumbles back. “Tell her, tell her, tell her...” Eerie, moaning, indecipherable wails drift in with the wind and the fortune teller shrieks, nearly clawing at the walls in her attempt to escape. “Confess to her all your misdeeds, your sins... how you came to be in this wretched state...”

Frowning, you grab her by the fabric of her shawl and yank her back into her seat. “What did they mean?” She stares back at you, wild eyed and horrified.

“You can hear them?” She breathes, almost incredulous, but before you can answer she’s yanking her clothes out of your grip, mumbling to herself under her breath, teeth chattering and her words stumbling over each other. “Of course you can, you’re one of hers, you-”

“You mean Eldoris?” You ask mildly, but at the very mention of her name the fortune teller jerks across the table to clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with terror. “Do not speak her name.” She hushes you desperately, and your eyes narrow as you pull her hand from your mouth.

“Why not?”

“Names have power.” The fortune teller snaps, sinking back into her seat even as she glances warily around her, as if she’s afraid that the sea witch is going to appear any second. “Names are the identity that bind you to this world. If you live without a name, any name, it means that the world does not have any connection to you, that nothing needs to call out for you. You are an insignificant speck, without an immortal soul, as the birds of the sky to the sirens in the sea are.”

Your eyebrows furrow, bringing your hands up to play with the shawl on your lap, the wooden hand catching on stray threads here and there. “What about the names of gods?”

The fortune teller scoffs. “The gods?” There’s a trace of bitterness in her voice as she sinks back into her chair, eyes dark. “Gods, the mortals call them. No, my dear fool. They are not gods... just beings of immense powers, called into consciousness at Creation. They don’t have names, nor do they have eternal souls... no one calls upon them for who they are, only what they are.” She snorts in ridicule, shaking her head. “Thinking that the gods are human enough to listen to their wishes, to their desires... that’s all a lie. A pretty fairy tale, meant to deceive those with a penny in their pocket.”

You fingers still. “What do you mean?”

“Please, don’t tell me you actually believed those legends.” Her eyes are dark as they meet yours. “As if human offerings such as fruit or even gold would be of anything of worth to a god. They have no need for it. They have existed long before the humans have, and will continue to exist long after humans are gone. They do as they wish, and they have no heart for humans, only for each other. We are nothing but mere ants to them.”

You remember how Eldoris had told you of the names the two gods had called each other by, lips pressing into a thin line. Were the gods really such cruel, heartless characters such as what the fortune teller was saying?

“You sound awfully passionate about this.” You remark quietly, and the fortune teller whips around to glare at you straight in the eye, so close you can smell her rancid breath.

“How do you think I got here?” She breathes, and you stiffen, straightening up to look at her more clearly. She’s had dealings with the gods before? You had thought her to be merely a shady magician with a penchant for seeing the future and a flair for the dramatic. “Trying to play god, trying to gain power.” Her expression darkens. “All I wanted was the ability to see the future, to protect my village from the storms that would rage along the coast, and yet... and yet...” Her teeth bare in a growl. “And yet...”

“And?” You coax her, transfixed by the sheer pain burning in her eyes. Her head snaps up to look at you, and you’re stunned to see her eyes shining with tears.

“I do not wish to speak about this any longer.” She croaks, turning away from you and rapidly swiping the tears from her eyes. Something pinches in you, and you hold out your shawl to her. She stares at it for a good few seconds, before she takes it in her hands and holds it there.

“You’re a good person,” she manages, and you only look at her blankly, uncomprehending. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, ever. Trying to obtain the power of a god is nothing but folly.”

“How does one obtain the power of a god?” You ask, hesitantly, and she looks at you for a long while, searching for something in your eyes. Apparently, she seems to finds it, because she exhales, shakes her head. “The essence of the world is all around us, from the very air we breathe to the water in the oceans all around us. We consume it all the time, in minute amounts... but to attain true power?” Her voice drops and you lean in closer to hear her. “One needs to consume bigger sources of power... like the sirens... or god forbid, the hafgufa itself.”

A memory works its way into your mind, a hazy recollection of staring down a cliff and screaming till your throat goes hoarse.

You frown. “Just like that? How is that detrimental to a person?”

The fortune teller sighs, eyes darkening. “You ask too many questions... but you must imagine yourself as a jar. You contain your own life essence, but to take in the essence of the world around you forcibly? You are... limited... and in order to take in more, something must flow out to make more room.”

Your blood goes cold. “So you lose parts of your own human soul?”

The fortune teller nods heavily, head hanging. “A price no human should ever have to pay. Power is crazily addicting, enough for one to completely lose their sense of self... and the value of their own humanity. A human’s weakness is our biggest strength, but to lose your heart and soul in exchange for power is despicable.”

“But you tried, once.” You say, trying to make sense of it all. “You tried, and you’re still here.”

“I was too young, too afraid.” She hisses, shaking her head. “I killed one siren and consumed her essence before she could return to the sea, and immediately the sea witch rose from the waves to strike justice upon me. She couldn’t take the essence that I had stolen from the sea, so she cursed me to have the most terrible of prophecies I spoke of to never be believed, to watch the awful visions I had seen come to pass in front of my very eyes, completely helpless but you,” one of her hands reach out to touch yours almost gingerly, as if she’s afraid that you might end up being nothing but a dream, “you believe me.”

You nod slowly. “I do... I think. Something about the way you speak convinces me.” You exhale lightly, hold out your hands to her, eyes blazing with determination.

“Since I do, will you please tell me my future?”

The fortune teller flinches, before she sighs, rubbing her temples. The seashells on the silver bracelets she wears tinkle with each movement. You continue to stare at her, pleadingly, resolute, until she looks up at you with the shake of the head.

For a second, your heart drops, but then she speaks, perhaps more to herself than to you. “If I send you, too, to your death... but no... perhaps,” she looks up at you, gripping your hand tight with surprising strength for such bony fingers, “if you were already supposed to be dead and yet you still stand before me here... perhaps things will be different for you.”

A pang of fear shoots through you, and you hurry to ask, “what do you mean, I’m supposed to be dead? Did you see something in my future the last time I was here-”

“No, nothing like that.” The fortune teller waves a hand dismissively. “What I mean is that no golem has ever lived past two or three moons, not even the most well made ones I’ve ever seen. And yet, here you are, after so long.”

Something icy cold begins creeping into your heart as you chew on your bottom lip, brows furrowing questioningly. “How exactly does a golem... die?”

The fortune teller exhales, gives you a pitying look. “Well, a golem is a vessel often made of clay or stone, powered by its maker to carry out their wishes.” You nod intently, clinging on to every word. “Golems carry unimaginable amounts of power in their physical forms to animate them even without their master’s conscious effort, which is why only the most powerful of magicians can make them, but their bodies are not meant to house them nor use them.”

Your heart clenches painfully.

“In order to use the magic within them to animate themselves, the golems’ bodies degrade, like how one would break holes into a clay vessel in order to release the water within.” She continues, seemingly unaware of how still you’ve become. “The damage is irreparable. After a while, the body eventually shatters into nothing but dust in a couple of moons or so.”

You pause for a moment, licking your lips, which suddenly feel bone dry. “Ahh... that sounds rather morbid.” You say, nodding slowly. Perhaps that might explain your nosebleeds... and the cracking of your hand. So you were right, you are falling apart and there is no cure; or well, no human cure. You look down at your chest, resting your human hand against your heart gently. What kind of power do you have stored within you that is slowly killing you from the inside?

“I do not know how you came to be, even the sea witch cannot have had this much power to create a being such as you.” The fortune teller says softly, fingertips digging into the table. “But I can try to give you a prophecy, if that is what you so desire.”

Without pomp nor fanfare, she holds out her hands expectantly and you place yours in hers, one flesh and blood and the other carved wood, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. “Not going to take my blood this time?” You try to tease a little, to settle the painful flutter in your belly, but the fortune teller shakes her head, dark eyes searing into yours.

“I have never had a need for it, except to pacify the hearts of others...” She sighs, “No person would believe that I would be able to tell fortunes otherwise.” With that, she falls silent, eyes slipping shut, and you do the same, gripping her hands tightly.

Seconds stretch into moments, and moments into minutes as you wait for something, anything. For a second, you’re almost afraid that the fortune teller has fallen asleep, and are about to tap her on the shoulder when her grip on your hands suddenly tighten near painfully. Eyes flying wide open with shock, you look at her, but before you can ask her what’s wrong, words begin to pour from her opened mouth, even though her lips do not move.

Your heart skips a beat.

“I see darkness... darkness all around me...” The fortune teller breathes and your blood runs cold, throat tightening. “You are bound to another by a promise... and they will come, bearing a gift... a gift to sunder the promise that binds you to this mortal coil...”

A promise?

“No matter the choice you make, all the paths have been set straight, and they lead only to death.” Your breath catches. “There is no other way, your promise is a futile one, and it can only be fulfilled through death. The only future is death... death... death. It comes as the storm approaches... on the horizon of the sea.”

You swallow.

“But take heart at the very end... take... heart, to become weak is to triumph, to die is to live and remember... what... your name... is... and who it is...that... it... calls... to...”

And with that the fortune teller merely slumps over the table in a dead faint, mouth slack as she breathes slowly through her nose. But you simply sit there, silently, heart hammering in your chest as you realise what you’ve just heard.

And only one word replays in your head, like the last lines of a sea shanty that never ends.

Death.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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rwbyvein · 3 years

Text

Firen Lhain: Chapter 809: Em-Brace: Part III / III

Taj hit a couple of buttons and turned back from pilot seat. Mercury and Emerald glared at him while Cinder looked at him curiously. Taj clapped his hands together. "So? News."

"Good or bad?" Emerald asked, and Mercury glared at her.

"Do you really think it's good? We're either almost out of fuel or we're being attacked."

"We have plenty of Dust." Taj stated, and Cinder stood up.

"And what are you planning to do?" Emerald asked, "We're over top of the ocean."

"And just what do you think happens if our airship takes enough damage that we have trouble maintaining attitude?" Taj asked.

"But?" Emerald asked, "Why would you?.."

Taj looked at her and then at Cinder, "Because he expected us to take care of our guests."

"There's a reason small airships don't normally make the long journey alone." Taj stated.

"Then why are we?!" Emerald asked.

"I don't know, maybe a Maiden who used to work with the one sending us the Grimm?" Taj said, and then looked to Cinder.

"What are we looking at?"

"A flock or swarm, larger than any bird that flies in flocks. At this point I don't know much else."

"Their speed?" Mercury asked, "Course?"

"Intercept, and faster than us." Taj replied.

"Can't we go faster?" Emerald asked, and Taj looked at her.

"If we do, we Dust-out and fall into the drink." She gave him a judgemental look, "What, you guys are the ones who wanted to take a small airship on a long haul flight between kingdoms?"

"This is almost exactly as I expected." Cinder stated. "Do you have a ladder to the roof?"

Taj stood up and walked to the bulkhead the separated the cockpit from cargo. Shuffling and metallic noises could be heard, and then a sudden clamour. He looked around the bulkhead, "Ready to go."

"You don't even know what you are going to face!" Emerald nearly shrieked.

"Implying we're not going to help?" Mercury asked.

"Not all of us cut their legs off and replaced them with rockets." Emerald harshly said to him, and he stepped towards her with rage in his eyes.

"You insufferable bitch!"

Emerald scoffed, offended. She then looked at Cinder, "Of course you're offended, it was offensive, but if we don't protect this airship, we're all dead. We don't have the wonderful benefit of being immune to Grimm like we used to."

Mercury was already walking up to the front.

Taj sat back down, "You want me to bring us down?"

"So, we only fall 20 feet instead of a thousand?" Emerald asked.

"Exactly, but it also increases the chance of us falling into the drink, or getting eaten by a Cetus or something."

"How about 100 feet?" Cinder asked, stepping up behind Mercury.

"That would give us some wiggle room." Taj stated, "If you close the trap door, the airship will be more stable, but I also won't be able to hear if one of you goes overboard."

"You could have some opinion!" Emerald shouted, "This is our lives we are talking about."

"One, if you don't go out, you're in the same boat as me." Taj stated, "Two, I'm not the Huntress here, so I'm going to defer to the ones who actually know what the fuck they are doing. Either go outside, and risk getting knocked overboard, or sit in here, with me, white-knuckling the controls hoping you don't get shot down. Considering you are, or were, a street rat, you think you would have figured out that life sucks and then we die. When you're outside of the walls of the kingdoms, you are at the whims of Grimm and bandits. They actually teach us this in the military, because it's kind of important for pilots. So, you're friends are on the roof. Make sure decision. Go up and fight, and stay here, but either way, stop fucking whining, pull up your big girl panties, you racist pieces of shit."

"Racist?!" Emerald asked.

"Uh?" Taj asked, "You think I didn't hear your talking about Faunus as if we were beasts?!"

"How dare you?!" Emerald asked, and Taj turned back towards his controls.

"I'm a military pilot, daring is part of the job description."

"But, you're not!"

"Okay, was, whatever?" Taj asked. "Either sit down and shut-up, or climb up and shut-up."

"How can you possibly?!.." Emerald tried to ask, and Taj looked back around, "If your whining distracts me, we could all die. What do I have to do to get this through your head?" Emerald looked forward as if her gaze was simply lost in space.

* * *

Cinder looked off into the distance.

"What is it?" Mercury asked, and Cinder just turned to look at him, and shrugged.

"They look like electric bats."

"And what kind of Grimm is that?"

"Well, I'm regretting that I didn't pay any more attention to what type of Grimms there are."

"Did it just teleport?" Mercury asked, "Like a lightning bolt?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Cinder stated, "Now, rules are pretty simple, don't fall overboard, don't get hit, and try to take them out before they get close to the ship."

"You call that simple?" Mercury asked.

"How about uncomplicated?" Cinder asked. Mercury lightly nodded. "We probably have ten or fifteen minutes until they catch up to us. Until then relax, just, you know, not too much."

"I intend to spend my time making sure I'm not going to fall overboard."

"That should help us when the time comes." Cinder replied, her dress blowing wildly in the wind.

* * *

"What the hell is taking so long?!" Emerald shouted.

"I'm not exactly going to slow down and let them catch up to us!" Taj replied. "Half of combat is the waiting."

"If it was half they would be here by now."

"I really don't know how someone so persnickity can be so bloody important and wanted." Taj replied.

Emerald let out an offended huff.

* * *

Cinder breathed in deep, trying to centre herself, as the swarms of electric bats was about 200 yards away. She pulled the surrounding energy into her centre. She thrust forward with her right palm causing a colossal fireball to form, launching at the swarm. They didn't seem to react, but how they jumped around like lightning bolts made it difficult to tell. At the last moment a number jumped away, but Cinder's colossal fireball incinerated a couple dozen of them. On the outside some of them simply burned a single wing, and then seemed to shrink to a smaller, whole, version of themselves, while others seemed to split into two. Others split as well, and the swarm spread out even more. Half of the horizon seemed to be filled with them.

"So?.." Mercury asked.

"The beauty of simple plans is that they don't need to change when things like this happened. I'll focus on the larger groups, you keep the smaller ones off of me. I am the Maiden, after all."

"Simple enough." Mercury stated, and Cinder started to breath deeply to ready another colossal fireball. And then another. The three fireballs seemed to have annihilated two thirds of the swarm, though it was hard to tell with them all splitting into pieces. Cinder was breathing heavily, but steeled herself and summon her swords. Mercury shook to loosen himself up and moved to and fro. He planted his left foot and spun about, launching out Dust balls, using his Semblance to guide them into a swirling spiral about them. Cinder crossed her swords to send out another pair of smaller fireballs before the swarms was upon them. Cinder struck with sword and fireball, while Mercury used his kicks to strike them, and guide the balls of Wind Dust into exploding at them. The bodies of the bats started to fall away and disappear. Before long there was too many dead Grimm to properly disappear, and the bodies started to fall into the ocean beneath them.

* * *

Mercury climbed down the ladder into the cockpit.

"Is she?!.." Emerald eagerly asked before Cinder's legs appeared atop the ladder. Mercury stepped off the ladder and walked into the back as Cinder climbed down. She stepped off the ladder and gently wrapped her arm around Emerald's shoulder, pulling her into the back.

"For the first time in..." Cinder said, and stopped. Emerald took another step forward before turning to look back at her, seeing her looking lost into space. Cinder shook her head, "For the first time I can remember I'm actually happy to have the body I have. I don't have to worry about constantly not being good enough. I don't have to worry about the Grimm creatures slowly corrupting me, I..." she said, but stopped as soon as Emerald eagerly, agressively pulled her into a hug.

* * *

Jaune and Weiss walked down the stairs and walked up to the cell. They then looked over to Yang and Blake lounging around. Jaune then looked at the cell. "Why don't you come out and talk to us?"

Neo moved towards the opening of the cell before stopping and shaking her head. She then vigourously pointed at him. He just opened his arms wide. Weiss produced a tray of cookies, "It's a bit late for coffee, but I did get Aurora to make us some cookies.

"How did Ruby react?" Yang asked as she stood up.

* * *

Ruby eagerly crammed the cookies into her mouth.

* * *

"She made enough to share, of course." Weiss stated. She then turned to the cell, "Now, did you want some?"

Neo edged a bit closer.

"Are we sure about this?" Yang asked.

"She's in pain." Jaune stated, as that was simply answer enough.

"It did work on Cinder." Blake stated, and everyone looked at her, "To a degree." They all looked back to Neo, slowly inching towards the opening of the cell. "We don't bite."

Yang took a step forward to speak, "She does, but only in a good way." This caused Weiss to let out a loud scoff. Neo paused for a moment before taking one last step out of the cell.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

Text

11 - Badass's against the World

Part 12

Iron Stone masterlist

I groaned loudly feeling my arms hanging above my head. My eyes slowly open for me to see my arms and legs are zip tied down. I'm in a lab of some sort. "I was wondering if you're body was healthy enough to still keep you alive." A man's voice made me turn towards the door to see a blonde hair guy in a white lab coat, walking up to me with a evil smirk. Killian, I believe Tony said his name was.

"Why - why would you - need me - alive, Mandarin?" I slurred my words together. My nerves system struggled against me.

Killian chuckled at my confusion, pulling out my orange gemstone necklace that now has more cracks on it. That can't be good. "You miss L/n are a one of a kind creature. You're healing powers run deeper than you know, in your blood stream. So this jewelry is a pour trinket..." he threw it to the ground crushing it with his foot. Oh hell my powers are going to be out of control."You see you're what the world would call a mutant. Born with unique gifts and I want to harness said gift for myself."

He grips my chin harshly in his right hand. "And I intend to get it one way or another...and just in case you think of trying to escape here's some insensitive." He sits a silver ball on the floor for me to see Pepper tied up glowing red and screaming from the pain. I gasped sharply. "Pepper!" Another video came up for me to see Tony tied up on a bed by sip ties like me. "Tony...no!" I sucked out in a whisper feeling some tears slip.

Killian dropped my head as I groan feeling two needles injected into my arms. "Ah! Ow!" I winced to see blood being drained from my body through tubes that attacked to a suit of armor like Tony's. "I'll be back to check on the progress. Hopefully you make it long enough to see me win-"

I spit in his face with my hair all dirty and sticking to my face. "You'll never win against Iron Man!"

He laughs evilily back at me exiting the room. "Yeah right, love. Tony Stark is nothing without his fancy suits and so are you."

Hours later I'm struggling against the injections. My eyes fall heavily before I remember my own words to Tony. "Let's be the badass's we are and beat this guy." Bawling my hands into fists I growled focusing all my emotions to my hands. The energy surged from my hands unlocking my cuffs. I dropped to the ground before something blasted the door open.

"Baby are you okay?" Tony rushes over in his suit, helping me to my feet as I brush my hands over the bleeding to see them heal immediately. "I'll be fine. Let's get this son of a bitch!"

The real Mandarin has Pepper and has hacked the president's airplane. Raising my hands from the crashing plane my suit flies attaching itself to my body. I shoot my thrusters off hearing Jarvis in my ear. "Miss Y/n. I am unsure how your suit is at its strongest copasitive without your necklace."

I fly over grabbing two screaming people in my arms as Tony swoops to four people. "No time for questions, Jarvis!"

Tony and I grabbed hands with the people gently dropping them in the ocean. But Tony's suit got destroyed when a bus hit him afterwards. Rodney, Tony and I climbed onto a large ship as I removed my mask and thrusters. "We need back up.." Tony breaths out as I leaned around the corner, gun raised to see three armed people. Rodey scoffs knocking out the lights. "That's you're department." All of the sudden I hear things flying towards us. Squinting I recognized them as the Iron suit fleet.

I smirked seeing all of them still functioning as Tony orders to Jarvis. "Jarvis, target EXTREMIS heat signatures. Disable with extreme prejudice." The AI voices through the suits. "Yes sir."

Stepped up beside Tony who has his arms crossed over his chest I smirked seeing the suits lock on target.

"What are you waiting for, it's Christmas?" He steps out arms thrown out. "Take them to church."

I stroll up to his side playfully scoffing. "Nah you can come up with a better one line Ton."

He smirks down to me, letting me throw my hands up glowing orange energy from them. "Light'em up, Jarvis!"

The suits all attacked and blew up parts of the ship. Tony and I threw our arms out as the metal attaches to our bodies. Pepper was trapped under rubble as I get blasted to the floor with Tony cutting Killian's arm off. Pepper gets dragged out on a ledge as the red creatures shot at my suit all at once, burning it to a crisp. My suit breaks apart making me collapse. Tony climbs up to save Pepper as the platform under my feet dropped out making me scream. "Ah! Oh god, oh god, Tony!"

My hands gripped the metal railing as I'm swinging over the water, I see Tony reaching out for Pepper as much as he can. "Pep, I got you. Relax, I got you."

Pepper screams out my name holding out her hand for him. "Y/n!"

Tony whips his head back at me then back to her. "Just look at me! Look, I can't reach you any further, you can't stay there and Y/n's gonna die if I don't do this quick. You've got to let go. I'll catch you, I promise!"

Pepper lets go but he missed her hand having her fall in the exposition. I sobbed out in heavy tears at seeing my friend die. "Pepper!" Killian climbed up the stairs as my right hand slipped from the railing. I grunted death gripping the railing in my left hand. Blood wounds open on my face, arms and legs with the wind blowing my messy hair. His footsteps stop banging on the metal catwalk above me. Tilting my head up I see him smirking while his blood turns red from the energy inside his body.

"Y/n L/n you are something, you know." He bends down his hands resting on his knees, looking down at my weakened state. "I mean a innocent shy girl gets born with healing energy powers - but uses them for good. I mean it's unbelievable really, you could've ruled the world wearing an Iron Man suit-"

I groan having my pinky slip off the rail. "I don't want to rule the world, Killian. I'm - not like you and - every other bad guy!" He shakes his head in laughter. "And look where being a hero has got you...I'll make you a deal, love."

"You take my hand and give your powers over to me, I'll let you live..." He stood up holding out his only hand for me while his right foot pushed against my left hand. I bare my teeth together as his foot pushed harder against my hand, my ring finger dropped. Three fingers are the only thing keeping me alive. My gaze shot over to Tony whose collapsed to the ground staring at where Pepper died.

"Or you keep playing hero with your pathetic fiance over there, but keep in mind if you do. I'll kill you...you're choice." Tony gets to his feet seeing my current state so he starts running towards Killian who starts running at him. In that brief window I pulled myself up onto the railing, barely holding on. Tony slides underneath him to stand up and get one of his Iron Man suits on.

Killian spun around staring at me. "You're right Killian. I could be been better. But the truth is...I already am a badass."

I smirked conjuring my powers to blast out of my hands once I let go of the railing. Falling towards the deep water I create a orange shield around my body as I'm inches from the water, only to feel arms wrap around me blasting us into the sky. "Successful catch, sir." Jarvis applauds.

"You didn't deserve her, Tony...she deserved a better friend, Y/n. She was almost perfect" Tony set me down fighting Killian again and switching from suit to suit multiple times. Mark 42 came back as I covered my head from Tony launching the suit to cover Killian's burnside body. "You're right we didn't deserve her. But she was already perfect."

Tony loops his arm through mine requesting to Jarvis. "Jarvis, do me a favor and blow Mark 42." Killian screams as the Iron mask covers his face. "No!" I slide down a long metal baring with Tony sliding behind me. My hands latch onto a metal pole as an explosion goes off. My hands slipped from the heat causing me to roll over on Tony whose laying on the ground staring at his iron mask.

I take a sigh of relief resting my head in his lap but he stiffened for some reason. My gaze fell to see a 3rd degree burned killian limping towards us. Holly hell he's still alive. We blew him up for peat sake! "No more false faces. You said you wanted the Mandarin. You're looking right at him. It was always me, Tony, Y/n. Right from the start. I am the Mandarin!"

Killian gets knocked down by something and my head shot up to see Pepper Potts. Her body glows red like the others did. I gasped seeing an Iron suit locked on her signature. "Jarvis, disengage. Disengage, it's Pepper!" But as the suit fires a blast at her she ripped the suit from the air, growling at Tony.

"Oh, what, are you mad at me?" He questioned scouting away on his butt as I slowly take steps back from her. But she runs knocking down a suit and killing Killian with a hand blaster. She wipes her head my direction as I gasped. "Pepper?"

"That was really violent." She gasps as Tony gets to his feet. "You just scared the devil out of me. I thought you were..."

"I was dead. Why? Because I fell 200 feet?" She scoffs but I throw my hands up slightly stepping closer to her. "Well yes, I mean you fell 200 feet into an explosion so.....I'm happy you're alive though Pep"

Pepper breathes in and out softly, a fire burning behind her. "You know, I think I understand why you don't want to give up the suits....they're badass." I let a chuckle escape my lips as I reached for her hand but she pulls away. "I'll burn you-" I cut in grabbing her hand regardless. "You're not hot. I'm here, Pepper."

"Am I gonna be okay?" Tears start falling down her face squeezing my hand gently in hers. I tilt my head to the ground for a moment, glancing at Tony who steps up. "No. You're in a relationship with me. Everything will never be okay." Once he wrapped an arm around my waist I nudge him in the rib, glaring.

"I feel like you learn how to handle a life with you, along the way." He planted a kiss to my injured forehead making me wince. "I'm sorry...romance and adventure with a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. What more could you want in life." I giggled pressing my face in his neck with Pepper lightly smiling.

"Don't worry Pep, I'll figure this out. Because it's what I do, I fix things." She nodded back before his freehand taps his headset for Jarvis. "Hey, Jarvis."

"All wrapped up here, sir. Will there be anything else?" Pepper and I share a confused glance when Tony smiles back. "You know what to do." I gasp in joy hearing Jarvis again. "The Clean Slate Protocol, sir?"

Tony cups my face in his hands making me drop my hand from Pepper's to rest on his arms. "Screw it, it's Christmas. Yes, yes...like Y/n says light'em up." He gently kissed my lips and I kiss back before hearing the Iron fleet flying above us. Pepper's eyes glow in awe with mine and Tony's as the fleet slowly blew up like fireworks.

"So do you like it?" He kisses my cheek once I lay my head on his chest with Pepper's hand in mine as we watch the sky. "I like it, but you know what I'd love?"

He tilts his head down to me. "What's that, darling?"

"If you make me a suit again and we get married tomorrow." I smile wide resting my freehand to his bruised cheek.

Pepper nods to him for a go sign after he leans down capturing my lips with his, passionately. "Consider those two things my top priority, everything with you Y/n L/n."

Pepper, Rodey and I stand outside the surgery window as Tony gets the piece of shrapnel removed from his chest. It was slowly pressing on his heart - killing him. I spin my ring on my left finger since we are getting married today once he wakes up. He said that if we were going to go through everything together than he needed to get the piece in his chest fixed, before I became Mrs. Y/n Stark.

"Y/n what if I burn down the place?" Pepper panics once she's helped me into my dress. I gently take her hands in mine smiling. "Pep, you'll be just fine."

She chuckled softly hugging me. "Gah, look at me over here worrying. When you're the one getting married." I hug her back gently pulling away to loop my arm through her's. "Pepper Potts there's nothing for me to worry about."

The doors opened for me to see all eyes on me, from my family and my friends. Happy had allowed for a few pictures from a small group of press reporters. Okay so maybe something to worry about. "You mean besides the fact that you're marrying Tony Stark/Iron Man."

Pepper chuckled playfully as I feel my heart beating faster. Suddenly something flies through the roof doing a action pose, causing all eyes of the press to turn that direction of the altar, snapping pictures quickly.

Tony steps out of the suit of hot-rod-red and gold with his classically recognizable smile on his face. I let out a breath of relief. He knew how to work a crowd. He held up his hands, winking at me secretly.

"Alright guys, this isn't another fundraiser gala, a random party to reveal my new suit or a red carpet premiere. I'm going to have to ask all of you to wait until after the wedding to get pictures." Everyone tried to object as security ushered them away that is now controlled by Happy. Tony sends the suit away with the wave of his hand, so he can fix his tie in nervousness before locking eyes with me.

"He remembered Pep!" I beamed in joy. He knew how much I hated the press, so he gave them a taste with his entrance so they would leave me alone. I can't imagine a better man to marry. Pepper whispers in my ear once I intertwined my hands with his. "He's nervous but I know he loves you with everything he has."

Happy stands in front of us with Pepper behind me and Rhodey behind Tony. "Do you Y/n M/n L/n, take Tony to be your husband. To love, fight alongside and protect as long as you both shall live?" I smile brightly squeezing his hand once I slipped the grey wedding band on his finger. "I do."

"Do you Anthony Edward Stark, take Y/n to be your wife. To love, fight alongside and protect as long as you both shall live?" Happy turned his attention to Tony, as he slipped my gold wedding band on my finger with a huge childlike smile. "I do."

Pepper stepped up beside Happy announcing to the crowd and to us. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. I present Mr and Mrs. Tony Stark." Tony cups my face in his hands hungrily bringing his lips to mine. My hands go around his neck so I can deepen the kiss when he dipped me a little while the crowd cheered and camera flashes went off around us.

Swinging my legs out of the car door I let my hair out of it's ponytail wanting to feel the gentle breeze. Brushing my hands down my outfit I'm wearing a light orange dress with light brown wedges. Tony gets out of his side of the car dressed in a dress suit. In his hands he opens a paper bag, pulling out his old arc reactor from his chest.

"3...2...1." I counted out for him before he spun it around throwing it into the ocean. "It's gone Y/n. I'm free." He sighs in relief.

I smile pulling out a bag that has my gemstone shards inside. Opening the bag I throw the shards harshly into the ocean as well. My necklace was supposed to be something to keep my powers in check. But instead it held me back from what I can fully do. Tony helped me realize that.

His comfortable arms wrap around my waist as I let myself fall into the embrace. My head resting on his chest as he kisses my forehead softly. "So, Mrs. Y/n Stark...how does a trip to Florida sound?"

I brush my lips against his smiling into the kiss. "Amazing. Nothing holding us back anymore...these badass's have the world at our fingertips."

Tony spun me around gently to cup my face in his hands capturing my lips with his once more before we get in the car. "Badass's against the world has a nice ring to it."

Once in the car he started driving towards the airport as I rest my chin on the palm of my hand seeing everything that we pass along the way. His house, lab and fancy toys are gone but we're still ontop of the world. He glanced my way wearing his sunglasses as we exited the car getting on the plane. Reporters and paparazzi try snapping pictures but I just flipped my shades out, gently holding my husband's hand as we don't look back.

"So, if I were to wrap this up, tie it with a bow, or whatever. . . I guess I'd say my armor, it was never a distraction, or a hobby. It was a cocoon. And now, I'm a changed man. You can take away my house, all my tricks and toys. One thing you can't take away. . . I am Iron Man."

Tony once told me as I think about my future with him, my powers, and the future for myself. . . I am Y/n Stark.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#iron stone #tony stark x reader fanfiction #tony stark x reader #tony stark #robert downey jr #iron man #wattpad fanfiction #comments really appreciated

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