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no-droids · 1 year

Text

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”

“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl. Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”

Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”

Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

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lainiespicewrites · 8 months

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Coach Syverson

Okay, Y'all I'm trying something new and posting one of my Henry Cavill Character fics. I haven't posted a fanfic in so long it's gonna be a short story probably only a two-parter maybe 3. Let me know what you think! I loved writing this. I think it's so cute!!!!

Warnings: None for Part 1 :) Definitely will be smut in part 2!

High school football coach Sy and school guidance counselor OFC

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I was locked in a trance, typing in progress notes from an early morning meeting I’d just finished with a student. The sounds of the office, which was just coming to life outside my door, fuelled me. I almost never came in this early. But, one of my seniors was having a crisis and this was the only time we could work into her busy schedule. It’s gonna break my heart when that girl graduates this year. I get so attached to the students. I can’t help working as a school counselor. It's hard not to.

“You’re in early,” The voice coming from the doorway made me jump. He chuckled softly. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” After a brief heart attack, I finally looked up. I smiled when my eyes met his.

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you! Good morning Coach, What can I do for you?” His soft blue eyes held my gaze, before shooting me a gentle smile. Coach Syverson and I had become good friends since he started working at the school a little over a year ago. Like many good high school football coaches, they made a history teaching spot for him. Unlike others, he’s actually a great teacher!

I met Logan Syverson for the first time in a staff meeting. Our principal introduced him at the beginning of the meeting going on and on about all the improvements he would bring to our team and our community. He certainly looked like a football player. The guy was huge! Tall, large muscles, and a full beard. His eyes were a deep blue. He had a winning smile and a southern accent. The English department was drooling. I hated him immediately.

I figured he was just going to be a self absorbed prick like the last coach. who only cared about the popular students, peaked in high school, and got fired because he got a little too close to one of the cheerleaders. We were not at all sorry to see him go. Well, those of us with half a brain weren’t anyway. Some of the community and staff were more worried about the football program. But I digress.

I was even more annoyed with him when I caught him falling asleep during the same meeting 30 minutes later when we were discussing the budget for new textbooks. I’m not exactly sure what came over me but I kicked him under the table. He was immediately alert. I expected him to glare at me. Or maybe even smirk. But the look on his face could only be described as apologetic. He quickly caught up to me when we were leaving the meeting. “Some first impression I made, huh?” When I didn’t immediately respond he added. “I swear I’m not some asshole that doesn’t care about education, that’s not like me, just didn’t sleep much last night. I had to take my dog to the emergency vet, she broke her leg in the woods late in the evening and didn’t get back until late and…”

“Is she okay?” I asked quickly. He looked completely dumbfounded.

“Uhm what?” He asked, clearly confused. I smiled sympathetically. I did exactly what I told my students not to do and judged him too quickly and I felt like an ass about it.

“You’re dog, is she okay?” He smiled softly and nodded.

“Yeah, Yeah she is. They got her all wrapped up and in a cast, poor pup, but she’ll be alright.” There was a brief pause and then. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“The students know me as Miss Plummer, but it’s Alayna. And um.. Sorry I kicked you. I don’t know why I did that.” I smiled sheepishly.

“Alayna,” He repeated. And then chuckled and squeezed my shoulder “No need to apologize, I’m glad you did. That would’ve been embarrassing. Falling asleep in my first staff meeting doesn’t really look good. Thanks for saving my ass back there!”

We were fast friends from that point on!

Sy pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and walked into my office. “Brought ya coffee, I was gonna sneak in and leave it on your desk but I guess it’s you surprising me this morning,” He said, setting the cup from our local coffee shop down on my desk.

“That’s sweet of you!” I took a sip and almost choked. I expected just plain black coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to order fancy coffee. But this was actually my coffee order. “How did you know my coffee order?” He had a big grin on his face now.

“I remembered it from that morning when we ran into each other in line a few weeks ago. Thought I’d be nice and bring my work wife some coffee since I was there.” He shrugged. He really was such a sweetheart. He looked tough and scary. I know he did. When he and a few of the other teachers in the history hall gathered between classes they looked intimidating. At least from a student's perspective.I knew them all well though. I’ve talked with students failing his class because they wouldn’t ask questions. When I asked why, they said they were nervous. But he was certainly no one to be afraid of. Yes, he could yell, but he saved that for the football field. The man was a damn teddy bear.

“Thank you!” I smiled. I quickly looked out into the guidance office to make sure there were no students around. “But I know you didn’t walk all the way down here just to bring me coffee for the hell of it. You’re buttering me up for something. What do you need, Logan?” He laughed and shook his head plopping down on the edge of my desk.

“You know me too well, sugar. Two things!” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Hey now young lady, don’t get an attitude with me I’m not asking you to give up a kidney!” I hid my smirk behind a sip of coffee and nodded at him to continue. “First, Can you look up Ty’s grades for me just at some point by the end of the day. He came into my office this morning and was all nervous about his algebra grade, swearing up and down it’s because he failed one quiz. But, I’m pretty sure,” I cut him off.

“He’s not turning in his homework because he just started dating Caitlyn and they’ve been staying up texting all night.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, Yeah, How’d you know?”

“Caitlyn stopped in to see me this morning and we had a chat about it, amongst other things. I’ll double check but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll email it to you so you can have a chat with him. I was going to call him in today but he listens better to you. When you talked about being a veteran and your time in Iraq at the Labor Day assembly, I think that really struck something with him. He looks up to you.” his eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly placing his hand over mine on the desk just for a second.

“Thank you for saying that,” He said before moving his hand and leaning on the desk again. I just smiled.

“What’s the other thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you could’ve just sent me that in an email.” He smirked. And his nose crinkled a little. Oh no.

“So our first away game is tomorrow night,”

“I know,”

“And you’re a big football fan, and you love those boys don’t you?” He was deflecting

“What do you want, Sy?” I asked again. He let out a long breath.

“Carol was supposed to be a student chaperone for the student fans buuuttt well, you heard her kid is really sick? I need you to come chaperone. Actually. I kinda already said you would.” He quickly stood up from my desk and backed up to the other side, like he was afraid I’d hit him.

I just leaned back in my chair and groaned,

“ugh Sy! What if I had plans?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled

“You don’t!” I scoffed

“You don’t know that?” I retorted. He smirked

“Yeah, what big plans do you have for Friday night?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

“Okay I don’t! But I could’ve!” I argued. “Why, didn’t you ask one of the other guys? Like Nick or I don’t know Mike?” I asked.

“Nick’s an assistant coach, he’ll already be there. And we both know as much as Mike loves teaching…he does not want to spend his Friday night with the kids and at a football game making sure there’s no funny business. And you love the kids.” He was pleading now. Practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “And…Maybe I want you there,” He winked playfully. I looked down and jiggled the mouse on my computer to hide my blush.

Jessica, who works the front desk of the guidance office swears he flirts with me. But I know he’s not. We’re friends. Good friends. We tease each other to make work a little more fun at best. But that's all it is. A man like Logan Syverson would never look twice at a girl like me. He’s fit and strong and tall and handsome. I’m pretty but I’m short and round and a little too quirky for my own good. Girls like me only get men like him in the movies. And I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise. Moment’s like these though. I do wonder a little. But I don’t let my thoughts wander too far.

“Oh yeah?” I joke, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean maybe you’re our good luck charm. You’ve been at all our home games this year and we haven’t lost a game.” He said with a cheeky smile.

“We’ve only had two Sy.” I say matter of fact. He just shakes his head.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not good luck, but okay,” He held his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to do it I’ll figure something out. I messed up and didn’t ask you first. I’ll tell the boys their favorite guidance counselor doesn’t want to come support them. It’ll break their little hearts sugar but I’m sure they’ll find,” He pauses and lets out an exaggerated sigh “Some way to pull through and play a good game of football.” He frowned, shaking his head. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows looking straight at him.

“Are you done?” I deadpanned. He snickered softly and nodded. “Fine, I’ll go,” He smiled and walked over squeezing my shoulder.

“You’re the best! It’s supposed to be chilly! Wear a sweater! And Free coffee,on me all night! I promise,” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” I chuckled.

“Seriously, I owe you sugar! I’m happy you’ll be there, I better get goin, class starts soon and I probably shouldn’t be late being that I’m the teacher,” He chuckled.

“Get out of my office Logan!” I laughed. He smiled.

“You’re the best!” He said one more time before finally walking out of my office. I shook my head and tapped at the keys on my keyboard to wake up my computer. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Jessica standing in my doorway.

“Don’t start!” I warned her.

“Please, sugar. I really want you there!” she mocked. “He knows your coffee order, Alayna. How long are you going to ignore what’s right in front of you?” she asked exasperated.

“It’s not like that Jess, He was just being sweet because he needed the help.” I said.

“Like you wouldn’t have done it anyway. You were trying to play coy but we both know you would have done it anyway.” She laughed. I blushed. And threw an eraser at her.

“Get back to work!” She laughed.

“Whatever you say… Sugar!” I snorted and we both chuckled for a minute. “I mean it Alayna, He’ll be kinda busy during the game and yes you’ll be keeping an eye on the students but take the opportunity to flirt back, he likes you, I’m not wrong!” She turned and walked back to her desk before I had a chance to say anything. And before I could spend any more time thinking about it my email notifications went off pulling me back into my work.

The rest of my work day went by in a blur. I had meeting after meeting with students. My seniors were in panic mode, my juniors have early onset senioritis, and the freshman and sophomores came into vent about the daily woes of high school drama. Oh to be 16 again.

With a full schedule of meetings I barely had time to eat lunch even in my office. When my phone lit up with a group text from two of my girlfriends asking about our weekly Thursday night dinner. I was quick to respond.

(I’ll be there!) I sent the text, before packing up my desk for the evening. It had been a late night for me so it was just past 5. I didn’t bother going home first to change into something more casual. They were used to the office style by now. I felt my shoulders relax a little as I slipped into the booth next to skyler.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, slowly pushing the glass of white wine they’d ordered for me closer.

“You know me so well!” I smiled at her.

“Long day?” Hayley asked from across the table, she picked up a tortilla chip and filled it with queso. I shrugged.

“Not long in the sense that it was rough, just busy,” Skyler nodded and took a sip for her wine glass.

“I feel that. I tried to get some school work done while the kids were down for a nap.” She runs an in-home daycare. She adores kids. But she’s also going back to school for a degree, Pediatric nursing. She’s a saint. I don’t know how she does it.

“I commend you babe. The school is asking me to take classes, they want someone to take on the position as school psychologist. They’ve been trying to nudge me toward it the past couple of weeks. It’d be a raise but, that on top of the current workload? I don’t wanna drown myself ya know?”

“I totally get it, it’s not easy! But you should think about it. You’ve talked about it before! At least consider it.” Skyler said.

“She’s got a point dude,” Hayley added. “Look at you guys moving up in the world while I’m stuck with an art block. If I can’t think of anything, my online shop isn’t gonna take off and I’ll be stuck at the factory forever!” She groaned and downed a quarter of her strawberry lemonade that was no doubt spiked. I looked sideways, meeting Skyler's eye. She was giving me the same look.

“You’re just getting started Hayley.” Skyler said.

“I know but if..”

“Ah, no buts!” I cut her off “We have to allow ourselves room for mistakes and error when we’re trying something new. You will get there. Give yourself the love you give your art! I don’t wanna hear anymore of that self deprecating bullshit from you! The people love their ghost fish!” I demanded, trying to hide a chuckle. She could be so stubborn! She was starting an online etsy shop for commissions and spreading the word through social media. She had all these fun ideas. She was a great artist. But of course it’s not an easy way to make money. And right now, things were slow. She would get there though! I know she would!

“Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you use your psychoanalysis shit on us?” she deadpanned.

“Everyday but I still do it anyway, and that’s why you love me!” She just laughed.

“Yeah okay buddy. Enough work talk, I lifted a bunch of heavy shit all day and I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna eat my chips and queso and get drunk with my friends!” She said and scooped another chip through the queso. I laughed and held up my glass

“Cheers to that! Although we all know damn well it’s a Thursday night and we all have to get up early and we drove separately so drunk is relative but yes!” Skyler laughed and clinked her glass with mine.

“Let her have her moment. Cheers to drunk Thursday dinner!” she said.

“Fuck yeah!” Hayley added and added her glass in with ours. We all took a drink and it was quiet for only a second.

“So,” Skyler spoke immediately. “It’s been a week, what's new?”

“Nothing for me, just still considering the offer to go back to school. My job would pay for it. Love life is still dry and I’ve bought like 3 new spicy romance books on my kindle this week!” I said laughing.

“Fun!” Skyler smiled. “Hayley?” She asked and directed her attention across the table.

“I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on fall stuff. We have a fall party coming up at work that I volunteered to do face painting for, but that should be fun! Oh there’s this new movie that came out I want you guys to come see with me I was hoping maybe tomorrow night?” she said. I started to agree. But then remembered my conversation with Sy earlier.

“Oh tomorrow night? I can’t. I’m actually busy!” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Since when are you busy on a friday night?” Hayley asked. Here we go. This is gonna open a whole can of worms. If Jess was good at getting my hopes up about Sy, these two were going to have me down right delusional.

“There’s a football game. I like to support the team.” I said. Skyler snickered and a smirk spread across Hayley’s face.

“You like to support the coach you mean?” Skyler asked.

“That’s not true! I’ve always been a football fan!” I defended myself. Hayley chuckled

“Sure but since when do you go to away games? Isn’t it like 2 hours away?” She raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

“Coach stopped by the office this morning, one of the other teachers that was supposed to chaperone the roadies tomorrow canceled and since he and I are friends he volunteered me to do it. He buttered me up with free coffee this morning and practically begged me to go tomorrow and… I just can’t say no to him. Plus he said he really wants me to be there.” I swirled my wine glass and stared down at it. I knew the looks they were giving me. I heard skyler squeal.

“Shut up! He asked you to come because he wants to spend time with you! Watch, I bet next week he’ll ask you out!” She bounced in her seat.

“He does not! He’s going to be busy with the team! He’s not going to have time to talk to me or anything.” I said taking a big gulp of wine.

“Why else would he say he wants you there though. And clearly you want him to hang out with you. Or you want to hang out with him. Or you wouldn’t have given up your precious Friday night in!” Hayley smirked.

“Okay, so what if I do. He’s not into me like that. He’s just friendly. He’s southern, it's just how he is!” I said, trying to hold onto whatever sanity I had left.

“Really?” Skyler said. “Does he bring anyone else coffee? Ask if he can eat lunch in anyone else’s office?” Hayley but it

“Didn’t he get you a christmas gift last year?” she asked.

“He was my secret santa!” I stated. They both sighed.

“ I don’t know why you can’t see it but he likes you!” Skyler said. I started to object but Hayley cut me off.

“You don’t have to believe us. Just pay attention to how he acts around you tomorrow and the next couple of days. He's trying to make a move. And I know you have your little no coworkers rule,”

“Because if…”

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! He’s clearly trying to get your attention. And you work in a public high school it's not like everyone else isn’t hooking up.” She stated.

“She’s got a point, remember all the teachers when we were in school? And he’s not just trying to hook up. He’s playing the long game,” Skyler said. “All we’re saying is IF we’re right,”

“And we are,” Hayley added. Skyler gave her side eye but laughed.

“If he asks you out you should give him a chance. We’ve never met him but it’s clear he’s so into you. And he seems like a great guy. Don’t push him away because something COULD go wrong.” she said. At that point the waiter came up and we placed our order. I also ordered another glass of wine. But a wine buzz wasn’t enough to convince me they were right. Sy couldn’t like me. I wasn’t his type. But it didn’t matter. I will go tomorrow and have a good time watching the game and cheering on the boys and watching Sy in his element. And when it’s all said and done I’ll ride home with the student section and maybe catch the chance to say goodbye to my friend before we leave. And on Monday everything will be as it always has been. Sy and I are friends.

I repeat that to myself as I walk the hall toward the gym after school on Friday. I turned down the hall toward the locker rooms and found his office door open. Sy was leaning back in his desk chair watching the tape from a few weeks ago. He noticed me before I spoke. He paused the video and smiled.

“Hey you! To what do I owe the honor? You never venture down this way?”

“Just coming to double check the plan for tonight! We’re meeting back here at 5:15 and the bus leaves at 5:45?” I asked him. He nodded, running a hand over his beard.

“Yeah, but I was thinking, you got plans for dinner?” He asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh I was just gonna run home for dinner, why do you ask?” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched curiously as he chewed at his bottom lip for a moment.

“I was gonna grab a bite to eat in town before the game. I won’t have time to go all the way home. Do you wanna come with me?” He finally made eye contact with me again and gave me a soft smile.

“Oh um,” I hesitated for a second.

“I’ll buy,” He smirked. I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t have to do that, Sy,” I said softly. He stood up grabbing his keys off the desk.

“I know, I want to.” He smiled and brushed his shoulder against mine as he walked out the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.” I raised an eyebrow

“Driving me to dinner and you’re paying? Sy if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he stopped walking. He turned toward me and bit his lip trying to hold back a grin.

“Alayna,” He chuckled nervously, “I find it hard to believe after all this time…” He was cut off by a loud whistle down the hallway.

“Well ain’t that a cute couple!” a voice said in a horrible mock southern accent “Get it coach!” One of Sy’s boys called from just outside the weight room. Another one of the football players popped his head out the door to see what was going on and started making kissy sounds with his lips. Sy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head but his shoulders shook when he chuckled, giving him away. He loved those boys he couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be.

“Tyler you’re already on thin ice don’t make me bench you tonight! You too Matt. Don’t think I forgot about the little stunt you pulled in the parking lot last week!” He gave them a stern look

“Sorry coach!” they said in unison

“It was funny though,” Matt mumbled. Sy shook his head

“Sure, You boys get out of here and get something to eat, I don’t need you passing out on me on the field tonight.” He held Matt’s gaze.

“It was one time!” He stressed.

“And it’s only gonna be one if I can help it. Go eat!” He barked. The boys immediately straightened up and nodded.

“Yes coach!” Logan just chuckled and we kept walking.

“They adore you,” I said. He smiled

“Nah, they just know I’m not kidding’” I laughed.

“Oh come on Sy, you aren’t that mean, or you wouldn’t care so much,” We walked out the back door to the teacher parking lot and headed to his truck. “Hey… what were you saying earlier,” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sugar,” He smirked.

“Sure you don’t cowboy,” I rolled my eyes and hopped up into the truck after he unlocked it. He slid in next to me and started the engine.

“Where do you wanna eat?” He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter to me, you’re buying,” I said flatly.

“Sugar,” He threw his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. He left it there as he pulled out on the road. “Don’t be shy with me, I know you love food darlin. I’ll drive all around town and we’ll starve until you tell me what you want.” I looked over at him just in time to make eye contact before his eyes shifted back toward the road. He shook his head and tried to hide his smirk.

“You are so dramatic,” I teased, trying to play it cool but I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Weren’t you the one tearing up in her office because of a book you were readin?” He snickered. I reached over and playfully smacked him in the chest.

“Shut up!” I laughed. He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt.

“Ow!” He pouted.

“That did not hurt! I barely hit you!” he side eyed me still pouting but the corners of his mouth started to break into a smile

“Over here committing spousal abuse.” He shook his head. I laughed so hard I snorted.

“We’re not married Sy!”

“You’re my work wife, it's the same damn thing” He chuckled. “Seriously, where do you wanna eat, I’m starving.”

“My god Logan,” I laughed. “Um fine, I haven’t tried that new sushi and ramen place yet!” I said. He almost slammed on the break.

“You haven’t?! That place is right up your alley, all trendy and shit. It’s real good too!”

“You think I’m trendy?” I raised an eyebrow. He looked over for a moment and caught my eye giving me a gentle smile.

“I think you deserve to be taken out to nice places.” And here I was blushing again.

“Sy,” I started but my phone buzzed in my lap distracting me, I wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. It was a group chat with the girls asking me what time we leave tonight. They were going to have a field day with this. And instead of just replying I decided to start a fire. I tapped my screen to open my camera and held it up to take a selfie “Smile, cowboy.” He chuckled.

“What are you doin over there, sugar?” He smirked but glanced over at the camera quickly so I could snap a quick photo.

“Lighting a match.” I smirked. He bit his lip and chuckled softly.

“You’re something else,” He spoke as we pulled into the restaurant. I quickly sent the picture to the group chat and slid my phone into my purse.

Sy was right. This place was incredible. And very trendy.

“God I can’t get over how good this place is!” I said for like the 4th time. Logan smiled.

“I told ya, Darlin,” The waitress came and brought out our bill and I reached for my purse. “Hey, No, I told you, I’m paying.” He said pulling out his wallet and handing his card to the waitress.

“Thank you Sy, I appreciate it,” He grinned.

“Anytime, you deserve it,” I blushed, “ you’re really saving my ass tonight.” I forced a smile, so that’s what this is about. I told the girls this was all just because he needed something.

“It’s no big deal Logan.” I said. I pulled my phone out and checked my messages. There were like 10 from the group chat now.

“OMG YOU'RE WITH HIM?!”

“You didn’t tell us you were getting dinner with him.”

“UNLESS THEIR NOT GETTING DINNER ;)”

“What else would they be….oh”

“Alayna you better not be fucking the football coach right now.”

“Leave her alone Hayley she can fuck him if she wants to BUT IF YOU DO I WANT DETAILS”

“ALAYNAAAAA”

“GIRLLLL ANSWER USSSSS”

“Seriously dude you can’t just send us a picture of you with your hunky football coach man crush and just disappear.”

“OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY FUCKING”

I held back a smile and shook my head.

“It is a big deal,” He said and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’m glad you’re gonna be there tonight.” I smiled but pulled my hand back.

“Sure, because you needed another chaperone.” I joked. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head catching my eye.

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be you, I like hangin out with you. And you’re really fun to watch in the stands. I didn’t know you could be so…aggressive.” He smirked.

“I’m just really passionate about football!” I argued. “And how do you know you like hanging out with me? We've barely seen each other outside of work.” I questioned.

“Well we should change that,” he said.

“Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” I asked. I knew a lot about him but he never mentioned any relationship. I’d be stupid to think he wasn’t seeing someone. He laughed. God I loved that sound.

“Don’t have one sugar,” He said with a mischievous grin on his face.

“How?” It was my turn to be confused.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He retorted quickly.

“I … because…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Haven’t found the right guy yet huh?” He pauses, “guess that’s where I’m at, she just ain’t found me yet.” He smiled. Right then the waitress came back with his card. “Thanks honey,” He said, giving her his signature smile. He signed the receipt and stood from the table. “We oughta get going. Don’t wanna be late for the game!”

Sy drove us back to the school and parked his truck next to my car. “Oh no!” I sighed.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“I was going to grab a sweatshirt when I went home and,” I opened my car, turning on the light to look in the back seat. “I don’t have an extra in my car.” I pouted.

“Is that all?” He chuckled. He reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out a black hoodie. “Here. I always have an extra in the truck you can wear mine. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” I took it from him tentatively.

“Sy, this is your coach sweatshirt.” I said.

“One of ‘em yeah.” He smiled.

“I…okay,” I just shook my head and pulled the hoodie on. He bit his lip.

“Looks good on ya,” He smirked.

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. Before we could continue to tease each other the buses pulled up. And I could see some of the students' cars pulling into the student lot “We’d better head over there!” I said quickly. Logan nodded.

“Yeah, we better get going.”

516 notes · View notes

sweetenerobert · 1 month

Text

begin again

1.3k | joel miller x plus size gender neutral reader

summary: you haven’t gone out on a date ever since you broke up with your toxic ex boyfriend — a year ago, a new opportunity rises when you meet joel miller.

warnings: toxic relationship (guiltrip, body shaming, gaslighting), self-conscious reader, awkward!joel, mention of an age gap (it's your choice, but reader is of age) teeth rotting fluff, first date in a cafe

a/n: doing this for @beskarandblasters for their Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge ;), i’m happy to participate!, if you would like to participate, read this post

a/n 2: as a plus size author myself, i wanted to try something different (keep out for more plus size reader in the mere future, but i still write male reader with no descriptions to let your imaginations go wild <333.

I loved how CUUUUUTE this idea is, i might write a longer version of this ;p also reminder, i went overboard with the word count :0

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You’re seriously gonna wear that?” Trevor said.

Glancing down at your stomach and then back at your boyfriend, you were confused about what Trevor meant. “What do you mean?” Shrugging your shoulders.

“That,” Trevor pointed at you, and you were still baffled at what he was pointing at. “Your hoodie.”

Your eyes trailing back down to your comfort hoodie. You’ve had it ever since the start of your senior year of high school into now being a twenty-one-year-old college student. It had some tiny holes, but you didn't care; you loved the material, the color, and how it made you feel comfortable.

“Well, yeah.” You shrugged.

Trevor sat up from lying on his bed and walked towards you, a look of disgust on his face. But you couldn’t tell what that look on his face was. He was always good at hiding it.

“Babe, you know I love that hoodie,” Trevor started blatantly lying to your face. “But I want you to make a good impression on my friends, so do you think you could wear something different?”

That indescribable feeling in your stomach rose to your throat, feeling as if someone were choking you. The stale taste of bile stayed in your throat as your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults. You disregarded it to be nerves about meeting Trevor’s friends.

In the back of your brain, you knew that meeting them would’ve been a piece of cake if the front of your brain made you constantly nervous. Trevor knew they liked you, but he made you think they didn't. To make you feel small.

“But I have nothing else to wear that makes me comfortable.”

Trevor holds both his pointer fingers to signal you to wait with a smirk on his face, walking towards his closet quickly. Pulling out a trendy denim jacket he owned, you liked it, but it wasn't your style — or size.

“This,” Trevor smiled.

“But, it doesn't fit. I can barely get one button to close, and it's going to be cold tonight,” You complained.

Trevor groaned where chills ran down your spine; it made you not want to say another word. “C’mon baby, we don't want to be late, just put on the fucking jacket so we can hurry up.”

The attitude sent your way wasn't new, but you always felt like it was your fault, and this felt like your fault. He was trying to make you feel good; who’s to say he’s wrong?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay; I didn't mean to get loud.”

That same meaningless apology you’ve heard before that always managed to calm you down. You zip down your hoodie, throwing it on Trevor’s bed, landing on the end of the bed frame, the hood between the mattress and the wooden frame. Taking the jacket and slipping your arms into it made you feel uncomfortable with how tight the denim felt against your back. You felt your shirt picked up — exposing your skin and making goosebumps occupy that area.

Looking at the mirror, you hated what you saw, but the smile on Trevor’s made you feel slightly better.

“I hate this,” You frowned.

“You look great,” Trever emphasized, draping his arm around your neck enthusiastically, which made you feel better. Right?

“Well, you finally look like you actually like my friends.”

“But, I’ve always liked your—”

“Okay, let's get going, baby.” Trevor kissed your cheek and left you alone in his room. The mirror catches your vulnerability in ways you couldn't see, and it makes you feel uneasy; it was bothering you that you couldn't figure out that word.

Disgust.

Disgust was the word that Trevor made you feel.

Judging you, making you feel like you're losing your mind, making you feel like you weren't enough. Disgust.

You were quickly slapping your face to erase any trace of Trevor. You stood outside the coffee shop where you agreed to meet up with the guy you matched up with on Bumble, Joel Miller.

It had been six months before you had gone back on dating apps, grieving the loss of your relationship in the past. Joel was one of the first few people you matched with. He was older, but he could hold down a conversation, making you feel like you could talk to him for hours. He was okay with meeting up with you, but he wanted to ensure you were comfortable with the timing; he was okay with waiting.

It had been five months until you agreed to see him; nervous to the brim, you didn't know what to wear; spending countless minutes in your underwear, you quickly put together an outfit and grabbed a hoodie.

When you first walked in and Joel noticed you, his smile beamed at you, making butterflies appear in your stomach. He had wired headphones in his ear as he stood up quickly, shoving them in his jacket. Wrapping his arms around you in a hug, he made you feel protected in his arms; he smelt of old spice and mint, and in your mind, it was adorable that you chuckled in your head.

As Joel backed up from the hug, he smiled at you again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You smiled back. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Uh, no. Not really, just listenin’ to the playlist you made me.”

“Oh god,” you buried your head in your hand. “You still listen to that?”

“Of course, it's the thing that helps me get out of bed.”

You chuckle and can't help but smile from ear to ear as Joel smiles at you lovingly. “Well, if you ever get bored with that one, I would gladly make you another one.”

Joel chuckles through his smile; he quickly rubs the back of his neck, looking back towards his seat. “Uh, do you wanna sit down?”

“I would love that.”

Joel directs you to your seat; you cannot help but feel heat rise to your face; as you sit in your chair, Joel sits in front of you. As you wiped your hands on your hoodie, you looked up at Joel; you noticed him resting his head on his fist, looking at you. That feeling of Joel critiquing little things about you rose back to when Trevor would do it.

“Trevor isn’t here; you're fine,” You thought.

“Is there something on my face?” Your quick to cover your mouth with your hand.

Joel shakes his head and smiles at you. “Just admirin’ you, you're s’ perfect.”

The heat in your face was reaching a dangerous level, where you could feel your face explode. “Stop, you're pulling my tail.”

“I’m serious, your amazin’.”

You can't help but look down at the table in despair as you rarely received compliments from Trevor; it's hard to believe what Joel was saying to be the truth. “M’sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You shake your head. Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on the table. “It's just I’ve never received compliments, and it's only when my ex would make me forget how much of an ass he is.”

That padding of Joel’s palm rested against your knuckles; you look at your hands together, and you look at Joel’s welcoming smile. “I promise, whenever I compliment you, it's comin’ from the depths of my soul, sweetheart.”

The warmth of Joel’s hand made you feel comfortable, a feeling you craved with— nobody. You felt good in this moment. “Now, how about I get you a cup of coffee? I promise it's the best.”

You chuckle. “Come on, I had to meet you here; let me buy it.”

As Joel gets up, he slides his hands down in an ‘X’ motion. “Nope, as the gentleman my momma raised me, it’ll be my pleasure.”

“Okay, but the next time we go out on a date, I’m buying.”

“I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” Joel walks away, and you can't help but smile at him as he walks away.

258 notes · View notes

fanficimagery · 10 months

Text

The Lost Girl

You just wanted to travel and forget all about the drama you left behind. You didn't expect to fall in with four boys who would become another family. Maybe more.

[Part Two of Three]

Author’s Note: This is... terrible. As with everything I've written before, I lost interest in this idea. But since I posted part one, I NEEDED to post a part two. Unfortunately, this then turned into three parts, so I need to start writing that now. Joy -_- Words: 7.6K

In the privacy of the cave that was once a popular resort, you pace around the space as you poke at the burning wound on your shoulder. You can already see the venom from the bite poisoning the flesh around the wound and you grimace. "Fuck."

"What can we do?" Dwayne asks.

"Nothing."

Paul and Marko quickly ignite the barrels around the cave as David and Dwayne keep watch over you, and you pull your phone out from your back pocket, sighing with relief when you see you still have two bars of reception. Without meeting anyone's gaze, you find Klaus' contact and call him. The first call goes to voicemail, as does the second, third, and fourth.

"Answer the phone, Niklaus Mikaelson!" You hiss into a voicemail. Then finding Elijah's contact, you call him and sag with relief when you hear him pick up. "Where's your idiot brother?"

"Well hello to you too, Miss Gilbert."

"Elijah, I love you, but now is not the time. I'm on a time limit here. Where. Is. Your. Brother?"

The phone line goes quiet and then, "What happened?"

"A couple of werewolves decided to make camp in territory that doesn't belong to them." There was no beating around the bush. Not if you wanted the cure as soon as possible.

"We're on our way."

"Please hurry."

"Are you in a safe place? Does anyone know what you are?"

"Yeah. My new friends are vampires, but they're different. They're forced to sleep from sunup to sundown."

"Put them on."

"You're on speaker," you say as you press the speaker option.

"To whomever is listening, you need to prepare. YN's health will deteriorate very quickly, and she will hallucinate. She won't know who you are. Do you have a place away from innocent civilians?"

"Yes," David answers. "We're pretty well removed from the humans. At the bottom of Hudson's Bluff, there's an entrance into our home."

"Good. Niklaus and I will get there as quickly as we can. You might want to have chains on hand because YN will either try to harm herself or you. And YN? I know you hate it, but if they sleep while the sun is up, you need to give up your daylight ring so you can't leave."

"Figures." You sigh.

"We'll be there soon."

Elijah hangs up and you place your phone aside on an upturned crate. Pacing once more, you nervously fidget with your daylight ring that Elijah mentioned. You've never felt comfortable parting with it, but you know things are about to get crazy and you can't risk leaving the cave while the boys are sleeping.

"I haven't taken my ring off since it was given to me," you say. Hesitantly, you slip it off and glance at Dwayne. "If you lose it, I will murder you."

Dwayne doesn't even crack a smile, but he does accept the ring when you hold it out for him. He stares at it and then slips it onto his pinky. "You'll get this back as soon as you're cured."

"I know." You smile sadly at him and then meet the concerned gazes of Paul and Marko.

"Do we really need to chain you up?" Paul asks.

"It would be best."

"We're not chaining you up," Dwayne says. "What's the next option?"

"Nothing. If you leave me free, you need to barricade wherever it is you guys' sleep. I don't want to risk flipping my shit and thinking you're all threats when you can't defend yourself."

Marko nods. "We can do that. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Go out and feed. If shit hits the fan when you guys wake up, you're gonna want your full strength."

"We're not leaving you," Dwayne says.

At that, you smile softly. "I'll be fine right now. I'll clean off that mattress over there," you say while pointing to the mattress in question, "and try to get some sleep. It'll start off like a fast-acting flu before the craziness sets in."

Dwayne opens his mouth to retort, but David pulls rank. "She's right. Let's go."

Instead of arguing, Dwayne says, "Fine, but don't mess with that mattress and blanket. We can still access some of the rooms in this place, so we'll find you a better mattress."

"Okay."

As the four boys take their leave, you lay on the sofa and attempt to remain calm. You already know how this is going to go thanks to Rose and Damon being bit by a werewolf before, and you're dreading it.

. .

The boys return hours later- Paul and Marko riding the high of a fuck and feed whereas David and Dwayne have yet to forget what's waiting for them in the cave. They immediately recognize something is off when Paul and Marko go quiet, and then hear Marko hesitantly calling out your name.

David and Dwayne rush into the main room to see you sitting on the couch, hunched over your knees with your hands clasped around your ears. But the moment Marko touches your uninjured shoulder, you snap. You hiss and grab Marko by the throat, moving so fast and pinning him to the couch you were just sitting on.

"Where's my brother?! Who are- what did you do with him?!"

"YN? YN it's me Marko. I don't-"

"Stop lying!"

"Grab her," David says.

Dwayne doesn't waste a second, flying over to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. You buck and hiss in his hold, and he's surprised by the strength you possess even while injured. "She's burning up," he tells them.

"Holy shit. Have the hallucinations started already?" Paul asks, helping his stunned brother up.

Marko huffs. "Uh, yeah! Do you think any of us have ever met her brother?"

"Fair."

You continue to scream and thrash, and it isn't until David walks in front of you and grasps your face between his hands do you calm down. "YN. You're in Santa Carla, not Mystic Falls. None of us know who your brother is."

He can see when your mind clears, the glaze in your eyes dimming just a little.

"David..?"

"There you are." The blonde smirks as he releases your face. "I think you gave Marko a bit of a scare."

Your gaze darts to Marko who grins at you and then glance down at the arms banded around you. "What did I do?" You ask.

"Nothing much, girlie," Marko assures you. "I was just surprised by your strength."

"Dwayne?"

"You surprised him by pinning him to the couch. You didn't hurt him."

The moment you sag in Dwayne's hold, David instructs Marko and Paul to get your temporary room ready. Dwayne sets you on your feet, but he doesn't let you go. Instead, he sits on the couch and drags you down until you're sitting sideways on his lap.

"Everything hurts," you whine as you settle, resting your head on Dwayne's shoulder. "I just want it to stop."

"What can we do?"

"Nothing. Only the cure will stop it."

"What is the cure?" David asks. "You never said."

You hesitate to answer, but figure they're going to find out soon anyway. "It's Klaus' blood. It's why ninety-nine percent of infected vampires die. They either don't know there's a cure or Klaus refuses to give up his blood."

"So, he has the ability to infect and save a vampire with his bite and blood?"

Shivering, you nod.

"Did he ever bite you?" Dwayne asks. "When you were enemies?"

"No, but he did bite my friend Caroline. And then he saved her because he's in love with her."

Neither say anything and the only noise is that from Paul and Marko who are setting up your space. You continue to shake and whimper in Dwayne's hold, waiting until you can lay down. And then when it's all done, Dwayne stands and carries you over to the mattress.

"Sun's almost up. Do you need anything?"

"No." You curl up, dragging a sheet over yourself. "Just go and barricade yourselves in. If I somehow find you and you manage to wake up, snap my neck. I'll wake up eventually."

"Dibs on snapping-"

"We're not snapping her neck," Dwayne snarls at Paul. "Shut up."

Paul's eyes widen as Marko snickers at his misfortune. You manage a weak smile before letting your eyes drift close, and then the space darkens when the sheets around you are settled in place.

"You think she'll still be alive when we wake up?" Marko asks.

"Yes."

Dwayne stalks off and the boys watch him go. Only when he's out of earshot does David say, "For all of our sakes, those friends of hers better get here soon. I have a feeling Dwayne will brood for a long while if something happens to YN."

"Are mates real?" Paul suddenly wonders. "Because as far as I know, Dwayne and YN haven't even kissed, and our boy is protective and possessive."

David chuckles. "Who knows. Now come on. Sun's here."

As soon as the words leave David's mouth, shafts of sunlight start filtering in, and the boys make a beeline for the tunnel that leads to their own sleeping quarters.

The moment the sun dips below the horizon and the Lost Boys' eyes snap open, none of them waste another second hanging upside down. They fly down and rush towards the main room but hesitate by the opening of the tunnel to listen for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing seems amiss, so they head on out.

One by one, the vampires spread out with Dwayne heading towards YN's sleeping space. He pulls back the sheets and what he finds has the breath stilling in his lungs. YN lays there, paler than ever with sweat slicked skin. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and it appears as if she's barely breathing.

"Find her phone. Call her friends. Now!" David barks.

Paul and Marko immediately go on the hunt and Dwayne steps onto the mattress, lowering himself down next to her. "..YN?"

With your peaceful slumber interrupted, your eyes flutter open, but readily fall back shut, and you whine as you register the pain your body is in. "Noooo."

"You gotta get up, sweetheart."

"S'too late. You should go. Don't need to see this." You weakly push at the hand smoothing hair from your forehead. "Go."

"No."

Tears gather behind your eyelids, and you manage to open them to get one last look. You sigh at seeing Dwayne's anguished features and then turn your head, only to find David and the others standing where your sheets once hung. "Thank you. For taking me in," you mumble. "I forgot what it felt like to have people treat me with decency."

"You're talking like you're dyin', girlie," Paul muses. "You ain't goin' nowhere. Not if we have any say so in the matter."

You manage a weak smile before you let your eyes fall shut. "If only.."

"Hey. Hey, no. Open your eyes." Dwayne lifts your upper body, moving behind you to cradle you between his thighs and against his chest. "Open your eyes, YN."

"Stop, Dwayne. Please." Being jostled makes you whimper even more. "It hurts too much."

"Your friends will be here soon."

"Will they?" Your head falls back until it's resting on Dwayne's shoulder, and you open your eyes to see him. You weakly reach up, fingers caressing his jaw as you attempt to smile. "We would have annoyed the others so much."

"We still can."

"Maybe in our next life."

"Well, that's a bit dramatic." The boys all hiss at the accented voice and you choke on a sob. "And here I thought your sister Elena was the best actress in the Gilbert family."

"Klaus."

"Hello, love. You look unwell."

You frown. "I feel like shit."

"Language, Miss Gilbert."

Your gaze slides to Klaus' left and you smile. "Hello, Elijah."

Elijah smiles at you and then turns his attention to his brother. "Please heal Miss Gilbert so that we may convene elsewhere. No offense to your living situation," he then says while nodding at David.

You snort and then groan, and Klaus finally takes pity on you. He pulls something out of his pocket and then tosses it at Dwayne. "Help her drink that."

Dwayne catches a vial in hand, notices the thick red liquid inside, and quickly uncorks it. He holds the vial to your lips, and you readily drink Klaus' blood. You take a moment to catch your breath afterward, groaning as you push yourself to sit up. "Sooo, that was fun. Let's not do it again." Paul and Marko laugh, and then you twist your upper body a little to look at Dwayne. "Aren't you glad I didn't die?"

"I knew you wouldn't."

"Yeah, yeah. Now help me up. I feel gross and need to go back to my hotel to shower." Dwayne hurriedly climbs to his feet, offering you a hand up. You groan some more, stretching and grimacing now that you're no longer horizontal.

"So, like are you healed now?" Paul asks.

"Pretty much. I just need a good shower, a bite to eat, and to listen to my gut instinct and not follow David into the woods to hunt a goddamn werewolf."

Paul and Marko snicker as Elijah and Klaus turn towards the blonde in question. He lazily smirks, uncaring that the most feared vampire and hybrid are staring him down. "You might have followed me into the woods, but you tackled that wolf off of Dwayne when it had him pinned."

Klaus groans and Elijah shakes his head. "We should have known."

"Oh whatever." You avoid everyone's stare except for Dwayne's. "Thanks for tucking me and not leaving when I said so." You wink at him. "I'll meet you on the boardwalk in half an hour."

. .

It doesn't take you long whatsoever to shower, change, and guzzle down a couple blood bags that Elijah had taken the liberty to retrieve for you.

"Well, you look awfully dressed up for this deranged little town," Klaus says.

You smirk and give a little twirl, the skirt of your dress flaring out just above your knees. "Well, I gotta make up for how I looked just an hour ago."

"You really like this vampire, don't you?" Elijah wonders.

You shrug, suddenly bashful as you hunt down your cropped leather jacket. "I mean, he's nice."

Klaus snorts. "Nice doesn't catch your attention, sweetheart. Try again."

Slipping into your jacket, you quietly groan. "He's.. protective. And mine. And if anyone hurts him or his brothers, I will hurt them back."

When you meet the brothers' stare, you find them both smiling at you.

"It's about time you found someone," Elijah says. "Niklaus and I were starting to worry."

"Of course, you were." Your eyes roll, but you're still smiling fondly. "Now can we go? I also want human food now."

You, Elijah, and Klaus run to the boardwalk, blending in with the nightlife so no one sees you appear from between one blink and the next. The boardwalk brings a smile to your face, especially when the Mikaelson's look so out of place.

It isn't hard to find the Lost Boys since you know their usual hangouts and make a beeline for them leaning against the railing near their motorbikes. There are a few girls hanging around them, Paul and Marko eating the attention up and stringing along the poor girls with eyes for them. David and Dwayne, however, seem wholly uninterested in the two girls vying for their attention and you smile mischievously.

You saunter in Dwayne's direction, making sure to catch his gaze as you only have eyes for him. His eyes seem to pass over you before quickly flickering back and the moment his lips curve into a smile, you laugh. The girl who'd been standing too close in order to speak with him looks in your direction, frowning, but you completely ignore her. You walk right up to Dwayne, hands sliding around his bare waist under his jacket as you lean up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a kiss. He smiles against your mouth, immediately kissing you back as his own arms wrap around your waist to pull you against him.

The wolf-whistles and jeers from his brothers do nothing to deter you, nor does Elijah and Klaus' presence.

"Uh, excuse me?" The feminine voice interrupting you makes you mentally snarl.

You pull back and glance at the female for a second. "You're excused."

"We were talking."

"No, you were talking, and he was waiting for me. Now run along, little girl. Your presence isn't needed."

"Y'ow! That was cold, girlie." Paul calls out.

You wink at Paul and then look back at Dwayne. Lifting your left hand, you wiggle your empty ring finger. "I believe you have something of mine."

Dwayne smirks as he pulls your daylight ring off his pinky, sensually sliding your ring back into its rightful place. When it's settled on your finger, you chuckle before chastely kissing him again.

The girl who'd been vying for David's attention is apparently the smartest of the bunch and she readily rounds up her girls to walk off. Paul and Marko mockingly wave at them as they scoff at you still in Dwayne's arms, and you press a kiss to his bare chest before stepping aside and tucking yourself under his arm.

"Well, you're feeling better," David drawls.

"Mhm. Nothing like a little blood to perk one right back up."

The Lost Boys all chuckle but leave it to a Mikaelson to bring your mood back down.

"Well since you're in good spirits," Elijah says and your smile drops.

"Elijah, no."

"Your family is growing impatient with your prolonged absence."

You groan. "Have they gotten Bonnie to track me?"

"Yes, but fortunately I thought about that in advance and have had you under a cloaking spell for quite some time now," Klaus says with a smirk. "They're not very happy with me at the moment."

"They never are," you muse. After a moment, you sigh a little as you lean more into Dwayne. "I'm gonna have to visit, aren't I? Just to shut them up."

"Yes."

"When do we leave?"

"As soon as our witch gets your new friends their daylight jewelry."

Klaus and Elijah smirk as it takes a moment for their words to sink in. And when they do, you jerk out of Dwayne's hold. "Wait, what?! You're getting them-"

Klaus shrugs as if it's no big deal. "It's more for me than it is for you. No one other than Elijah and I know your new friends are a different breed of vampires. It'll be a nice surprise when Damon steps out of line."

You huff a laugh and then face the boys. "Would you guys even be interested in leaving Santa Carla for a bit if the jewelry works?"

"Uh, hell yes," Paul blurts.

Marko eagerly nods, Dwayne shrugs, and David frowns.

"We can't leave Santa Carla unprotected. If we do, other vampires are likely to move in."

"Fear not, I'll have some associates stay behind to make sure that doesn't happen," Klaus says. "And they'll even hunt down the wolf who bit YN, and any others trespassing since I'm assuming you boys run the entire city."

David doesn't seem too impressed, but with Paul and Marko overly eager, you can see that he doesn't want to squash their fun. "Are you sure these daylight rings will work for us?" He asks, looking at Elijah and Klaus.

"Yes. Though we figured rings wouldn't fit your aesthetic, so we have leather bracelets being fitted with the spelled stone. They should be ready in a day or two since the witch has to tweak the spell a bit."

"Well okay then."

"Yes!" You beam. Quickly grabbing hold of Dwayne's hand, you start tugging him away from the group. "So, while you all come up with a plan for our departure, Dwayne and I are going to go for a walk. Near death experience and all that, so I'm feeling a little bit foolish."

Elijah and Klaus immediately scowl, and you wink. "Love you, boys. Don't murder my friends."

Dwayne laughs as you hurriedly tug him away then, disappearing into the crowd of locals and tourists. You drag him past all the rides and booths, heading for a small, darkened pier. You lead him towards the very end, turning your back on the ocean and facing Dwayne as you lean against the railing. "Hi," you muse.

"Hi." He steps closer, caging you against the railing as he leans his head down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Glad to see you're not on death's door anymore."

"Feels good not to be on death's door anymore." You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist so you're hugging him. "So, are you ready to get out of Santa Carla for a few days?"

"Depends. Do you think these bracelets will work?"

"Yes. The witches aren't dumb enough to double cross the Mikaelson's."

"Mhm. And what should we expect in Mystic Falls? What should I expect in Mystic Falls?"

You slowly grin. "Is this your way of asking if I left anyone behind, Dwayne?"

"Yes."

"God, I love that you're so blunt." You quickly lean up to peck his lips. "And no. I didn't leave anyone behind. I'm older than my sister's friend group, so I didn't go there with any of the boys. I almost had a fling with Damon, but I refused to play into his games when I realized he was doing anything to rile up my sister and his brother. And then there's that whole thing that happened with Caroline, and I've never forgiven him for it. I don't know how my sister managed to look past it."

"What thing?"

"Damon lured Caroline to bed, using her to feed and fuck. Sometimes, he'd show her what he was and practically brutalize her before compelling her to forget and then do it all over again the next night. He pretty much raped her and now my sister believes he's the love of her life."

Dwayne scowls. "She the girl that turned the same night as you?"

"Yep. She knocked him on his ass when all her memories returned, but she was just expected to fall in line and treat him as a friend when all was said and done."

"That's messed up."

"Yeah." You heave a sigh, shrugging. "Their whole friend group is toxic as hell which was the main motivator for me getting the hell out of there. And now I gotta return so they know I'm alive and well, so they can stop blaming Elijah and Klaus for anything."

"If this Damon guy so much as looks at you wrong..."

"Then I give full permission to snap his neck or rough him up some. Just don't kill him because then I'll never hear the end of it."

"No promises."

You laugh and kiss him once more. "Fair enough. Now let's go do some gross couple-y shit and piss off a few humans before we're stuck with your brothers and my family for a week."

It took nearly two days for Klaus' witch to pull through, delivering the bracelets to your hotel suite that the Mikaelson's had been staying in with you. The three of you then left for the cave where Klaus urged you to wake your friends before the sun set so they could try their bracelets. They'd been none too happy to be woken, but all too eager to try the bracelets once you told them they were done.

Paul, being the guinea pig, put his bracelet on and cautiously held his hand in a ray of sunlight. When his hand didn't smoke or burst into flames, he stepped fully into the light and held his breath before letting out a whoop of delight.

Another perk that came with the bracelet was that once the bracelets had been secured around their wrists, they all noticed that they weren't fatigued by the sun anymore. The lost boys took great pleasure in leaving the cave and standing atop Hudson's Bluff in broad daylight, and then Klaus urged everyone to hurry because Santa Carla was very much beneath him.

While Klaus called some contacts to be stationed around the little town, while also giving them the task of hunting down any werewolf in Santa Carla, you let your hotel know that you'd be gone for a week. Elijah assured the boys they'd have everything once they reached Mystic Falls, and then it wasn't long until everyone was loaded up onto a private jet.

. .

There's a large SUV waiting at the airport just outside of Mystic Falls and you all pile in with Elijah getting behind the wheel. And instead of driving straight to their home, Elijah drives through the town so the boys can see just exactly where it is you came from.

"Everything's so.. clean," Marko muses as he stares out a window.

"I can't believe you grew up here," Paul then adds. "These people aren't gonna chase us out of town with pitchforks and torches, are they?"

You laugh. "Not the humans, but my family and friends will most definitely try."

Klaus points out the Mystic Grill and that it'll be where everyone will make their grand entrance after the boys don appropriate attire. And then it's off to their precious mansion and you take great joy in the boys' impressed expressions upon seeing it for the first time.

"Max's beach house has nothing on this house," Paul says in awe.

"You know where your room is, Miss Gilbert," Elijah says as you enter the foyer of the mansion. And with a lingering stare and then a sigh, he adds, "And if your beau wants to stay with you, that's fine with us." You meet Dwayne's stare and wiggle your eyebrows, earning a smile and nod in return. "As for the rest of you, please follow me so we can get you situated."

"Shower and change," Klaus calls out on his way towards his studio. "The fun begins in one hour."

Dwayne follows you to your room as Elijah shows everyone else to theirs. He walks in behind you, taking in the extravagant room and lavish decor. Dwayne's eyebrow arches. "You grew up like this?"

You chuckle as you open a closet to choose an outfit for yourself. "No. The Mikaelson's are filthy rich compared to everyone in this town. I lived in a much smaller, less fancy house."

"Yet you're completely at home here."

"When you meet my sister and her friends later, you'll understand why I've spent so much time here." You pull out an outfit and turn towards Dwayne. "Now go shower while I get Elijah to deliver whatever clothes he has for you. I'll shower in Rebekah's room."

"Or we can shower together."

"Absolutely not!" You hear Klaus' shout all the way from downstairs.

Laughing, you nudge Dwayne towards the shower and then go in search of Elijah. You ask for Dwayne's clothing to be delivered to your room while you use Rebekah's shower. You hurriedly shower and change, and when you exit you find Rebekah waiting on her bed.

"So who's the riff raff?" She asks.

"Hello to you too, Bex," you muse. At her expectant expression, you say, "They're my new friends."

"Sex friends?" She wiggles her eyebrows.

"Ew. No." You pause a beat and then, "Well.."

"I knew it. Which one is it?"

"Dwayne. He's showering in my room so I don't think you've seen him. And unfortunately, there's been no sex. Not yet at least."

She grins. "Where did you meet them?"

"Santa Carla. It's where I've been staying and plan to stay now," you admit. "They, uh, they're vampires. Not our kind, but the kind that look truly monstrous when their faces change. And they can fly."

"Well, that's interesting."

"Not as interesting as the fact that we're not telling anyone what they are unless they have to intervene in some drama."

Rebekah's eyes light up and you laugh at her sudden interest. "So what's the plan?"

"We're all going to the Grill just so everyone can see that I'm alive and well, and that your brother isn't keeping me in a dungeon somewhere. We'll probably be here for a week before we go back to California."

"Excellent. We're having a party."

"No."

"Can it be one of those fancy parties?" You startle at the voice, turning to see Paul and Marko standing in the doorway. "We really want to see YN in a poofy dress."

"Absolutely not."

"Ohhhh. A ball!"

You sigh, knowing it's a losing battle. You glare at your friends, but then take a moment to take in what you're actually seeing. Without the dirty jeans, mesh shirts, and tattered jackets, the boys actually look pretty decent. Marko kept his hair the same, but you were surprised to see Paul's hair in a messy bun. Both wore stylish ripped skinny jeans, band tees, and Doc Martens. "You boys clean up well."

Marko smirks. "You should see David."

When your brain reboots, you hurriedly step into your own shoes before rushing down the stairs with the laughing boys behind you. You find Elijah and David in the kitchen, most likely drinking blood from a mug since Elijah made it clear there was no killing within the town limits, and gape. David stands there in a burgundy dress shirt with the top two buttons left open, a black winter peacoat with its collar popped, fitted jeans, and brown boots.

"Keep staring like that and Dwayne will get jealous."

Your jaw clicks shut and then you can't help but laugh. "Enjoying the fresh clothes?"

"It's better than using the clothes of our victims."

You catch sight of Rebekah's nose wrinkling and you laugh. "Yeah. Definitely better than stealing from the dead."

You properly introduce Rebekah to David, Paul, and Marko, and let them chat as she asks to see their vampire face. Paul happily obliges and even the blonde Original is impressed with the difference between your breed of vampires. Klaus soon joins the group, and you're all enjoying warmed up blood from the fridge when you see Dwayne enter from the corner of your eye.

Turning to face him, your gaze sweeps along him from head to toe. He's in a white dress shirt that's been left unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, snug faded jeans resting on his hips, and black boots adoring his feet. His hair has been pulled into a ponytail, only on the last loop through he didn't pull his hair all the way through and left the strands trapped so it's all hanging above his neck still.

And holy hell does he look good.

"Maybe telling you boys to shower was a mistake." Rebekah snorts at your ogling and you snap out of it before making your way to Dwayne. "Hi." You kiss his cheek. "You look nice."

"Right back at 'ya."

"As bloody adorable as you two are," Rebekah says, "can we go? It's been a while since I've annoyed your friends."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

Rebekah isn't too keen on squishing herself between two strangers, so she takes her own vehicle. And not wanting her to drive alone, you grab Dwayne's hand and lead him along until you're pushing him towards the backseat of her car while climbing into the passenger seat yourself. He's quiet on the drive, but listens as Rebekah asks you about your travels.

When Rebekah finally parks at Mystic Grill, you get out and immediately wrap your hand around Dwayne's. You're giddy as you get closer to the front entrance, ignoring Rebekah's teasing. Then upon entering the establishment, you scan the place for Elijah or Klaus or the other boys. And a moment later, Paul's eager waving from the back catches your attention.

Rebekah saunters her way through Mystic Grill while you and Dwayne follow. They've pushed three tables together with Elijah and Klaus sitting on either end. Paul and Marko are sitting across from each other, closest to Klaus, and David is sitting near Elijah. Rebekah chooses the seat across from David, closest to Elijah, which forces you and Dwayne to sit across from one another instead of side by side.

Elijah tells the table to order whatever they want, and there's a mad scramble for the menus when a handful are dropped off.

"YN?"

You glance up and over your shoulder, and smile politely at the blonde haired, blue eyed ex-boyfriend of your sister. "Hey, Matty. Long time no see."

He smiles, but then that smile falters when he notices the company you're keeping. "Are you, uh, are you good?"

"Never been better," you muse. "And you?"

"It's Mystic Falls." He shrugs. "You know how it is."

"Yeah. I do."

A beat passes and then Matt clears his throat. "So what can I get everyone to drink?"

Elijah, Klaus, and David all get bourbon, Rebekah and Dwayne get sweet tea, Marko gets lemonade, and you and Paul order Coke.

As Matt takes his leave, Rebekah starts to chuckle. "Well if your sister didn't know you were in town, she will now."

"I know," you groan. "I know we're here to ruffle some feathers, but I was hoping we would be able to eat in peace."

"Are they really that bad?" Marko asks.

You shrug. "If Damon wasn't involved, it would be tense but a decent time. But since Damon will be involved, he'll do his best to antagonize one or all of the Mikaelson's. Maybe even you guys since you're new and friends of mine."

"Well we do love some good verbal spars." Paul wiggles his eyebrows and you playfully roll your eyes.

Matt soon returns with the drinks and then takes everyone's order. Elijah and Klaus don't want any food, but all the lost boys order cheeseburgers and fries whereas you and Rebekah opt for chicken wraps and a basket of cheese fries each.

You barely have a moment to relax before your name's being called again and you mentally groan. Turning in your seat, you plaster on a friendly smile. "Hey, sis."

Elena stands there, happy yet anxious as she takes in those you're sitting with. "When did you get in?"

As she takes a step closer, you stand and awkwardly hug her. "Earlier today," you say. "Made some friends and what not, and thought I'd show them where I grew up."

"So you picked up some stragglers and thought it was a good idea to show them where you live?"

Your gaze slides to the right and you sigh. "Lived. Past tense. And hello to you too, Damon."

Damon smirks, blue eyes sparkling with a little malice as Elena stammers. "L-Lived? What are you talking about?"

You shrug. "Mystic Falls isn't that great of a fit for me anymore, so I found a place that was."

"So where do you live now?"

"Out of state."

"YN." Elena frowns. "I don't really think-"

"Drop it, Elena." You shake your head at her. "I'm the older sister here. If I wanna settle elsewhere, I will."

"But-"

"Elena."

Elena frowns, but wisely shuts her mouth, and Damon gestures to the side with his head. "As adorable as this squabble is, maybe we should take this outside. Family business and all."

"Funny. Last I checked, you are a Salvatore and these two lovely ladies are Gilberts," Elijah drawls.

Damon's smirk falls. "Stay out of it, Mikaelson."

Paul and Marko snicker as David and Klaus grin, but Dwayne is watching the conversation rather closely.

You roll your eyes with a sigh and stand up. "Whatever. I'm not going outside though. I'm starving and Matt will be back with our food any minute now."

You walk towards the hallway where the bathrooms are, leaning against the wall. Elena and Damon are on your heels, and they don't waste a second laying into you.

"What the hell, YN? You disappear for a year and then come back, only to let me know you're not even living here anymore?" Elena says.

"We're not children anymore. I don't have to run my relocation past you."

She gapes. "Well, no, but-"

"But nothing."

"Knock off the attitude," Damon says through gritted teeth. "We get that you think you're important because the Mikaelson's are manipulating you, but enough is enough. It's time to stop playing nice with the enemy and come home to your family like a good little girl."

You hiss in Damon's direction, taking a step towards him. "Last I checked, you're not family. Shut up and wait outside like the good little lap dog you are."

"YN!"

Before you can blink, a hand is around your throat and you're being shoved back into the wall. "Careful, YN. I might not be able to make your life difficult with the Mikaelson's, but you brought four brand new, very fragile guys into the mix."

"Damon, stop."

"I'll have no problem picking them off one by one until you behave."

Instead of rising to the bait, you slowly smirk at him. "I'd like to see you try."

"Am I interrupting?"

You, Elena, and Damon turn towards the open end of the hallway, and you smile at the sight of Dwayne. A very tense Dwayne. "Hi, baby," you coo. "And no, you're not. Is our food at the table?"

"Yes."

"I'll be right there." Dwayne glares at Damon before giving you a nod, and then he turns to walk away. As soon as he's out of sight, you reach up and grab onto Damon's wrist, yanking his hand from your neck and snapping his wrist. He hisses in pain and Elena gasps. "Touch me again and it'll be your neck I snap next," you snarl.

He sneers right back at you. "You have a weakness. Good to know."

"You go after him and I will fucking kill you," you suddenly seethe, fangs elongating in your sudden spike of anger. Then looking at your sister, you say, "If any of my friends are hurt by the hands of your little boy toy, we are done. For good. And given what we are, dear sister, that's a long time to have no contact with your only sister."

Elena sadly shakes her head. "You've changed."

"You're damn right I have. You and your enemies made me into the person I am today. I am done being talked down to and being walked all over. You have a problem, fix it yourself. Stop playing the woe is me card and deal with your life as it is. You wanted to lay with vampires? Well congratulations, Elena, you're laying with vampires and dealing with all the issues that come with the life you chose."

"I didn't want this!"

"Of course you did," you drawl. "Otherwise you would have turned the other way when Stefan let the vampire secret out of the bag. Now if you'll excuse me, I got a meal to eat and friends to show around."

You slam your shoulder into Damon on your way out of the hall, shaking your head in amusement when you catch sight of every Mikaelson and lost boy already staring at you. Paul has moved next to Marko, leaving the spot next to Dwayne empty for you.

"You good?" Dwayne asks as soon as you sit down.

"Peachy." Under the table, Dwayne pulls your chair closer to his and lays a hand rather possessively atop your thigh. You grin. "Now can we eat? I'm starving."

The first night back in Mystic Falls is fairly quiet. Your only run-ins were with Damon and Elena, but you did get text messages from Jeremy, Caroline, and Bonnie. Your brother and friends seem excited to know you're back in town, but explain their surprise with your sudden move. Jeremy tries to not so discreetly discover where you're now living, but you don't give up the location. You just tell them all that you're happy and you rather not say where you're living because Damon will do anything and everything to drag you back to Mystic Falls the moment something displeases Elena.

And the fact that none of them argue your point lets you know that they completely understand.

You and Rebekah then got to show the boys Mystic Falls at night, letting them see just how drastically different your hometown is compared to Santa Carla.

The boys, thankfully, don't cause any issues and your first night is easy.

Your second day in Mystic Falls, however, is proving to be testing your patience.

"I. Do. Not. Want. A. Birthday. Party."

"Too bad." Rebekah smirks. "We're throwing you one."

"You're my least favorite Mikaelson." Turning around, you sigh and pout. "Elijah, tell your sister no party."

"Sorry, Miss Gilbert. No can do."

"You're no fun. Klaus?"

Klaus merely smirks, attention never wavering from the canvas he's been painting his next masterpiece on.

"So, is this going to be a party party? Or a fancy party? I was digging those poofy dresses I saw in YN's phone," Paul muses.

Rebekah gasps as she perks up, and you groan. You'd hope they'd forgotten about that.

"No ball!" You snap. "I can deal with pretty dresses and suits, but nothing too fancy."

Rebekah immediately pouts, but she gives in fairly easily. "Fine. Then I'm inviting anyone and everyone."

"Fine."

"And your boys have to wear suits."

"Duh. If I'm dressing up, so are they."

"And cutting their hair."

"Absolutely not."

"Yes." Rebekah scowls. "Mullets are gross."

You shrug. "I don't disagree, but Marko and David somehow manage to pull it off."

"They need to go."

"Nope. Paul and Dwayne can do with a trim, but you're not touching the mullets."

"YN."

"Rebekah."

"They're gross."

"It's their style."

"Elijah!"

"Klaus!"

Both you and Rebekah, who'd managed to end up toe to toe in your back and forth, turn to look at her brothers. But instead of just finding the two of them, you find the lost boys watching along with amusement dancing in their eyes.

You and Rebekah both roll your eyes then, huffing simultaneously, which earns laughter in return.

"So, are we talking a live band or a DJ?" She then asks, ignoring all the men in the room.

"DJ, definitely."

"Food?"

"Anything small that can be eaten by hand."

As you and Rebekah walk off to plan, Elijah stares at the boys and stands. "Well since we're throwing a party, we must be fitted for new suits. Let's go, boys."

Paul whoops, but his delight only lasts as long as it takes for Klaus to remind him that he has to get his hair trimmed.

. .

After spending the day planning a party with Rebekah and brainstorming what kind of dress you're looking for, you can finally call it a night after Klaus tells you not to wait up. Both he and Elijah have kept the boys out and about, none of them complaining because they're still awed about being able to be walking around in the sunlight annoying people that Klaus doesn't care for.

After showering and slipping into a tank top and pajama shorts, you lay in bed while scrolling through social media. You hear when all the men/boys return and can't help but smile when you hear Elijah's exasperation with his brother over telling a rather bawdy joke to your friends.

Then it isn't long until Dwayne enters your room and you put your phone down as he takes a clothing bag to hang in the closet. "Have fun?" You muse.

He gives you a deadpan look over his shoulder and you laugh. Dwayne then toes off his boots, sliding into the bed next to you with a quiet groan. "You know, I always wondered what it'd be like to have money." He drapes his arm over your stomach, dragging you closer to him so his nose is pressed to your temple as he breathes you in.

"And…?"

"It's insane. Klaus was compelling everyone to get what he wanted, but Elijah was just dropping bills left and right without a care in the world."

You turn your head and kiss the underside of his jaw. "No drama?"

"We ran into that Damon guy and his own brother. They kept dropping not so subtle hints that Elijah and Klaus were dangerous individuals, and he wouldn't be surprised if our bodies were found in the woods sooner rather than later."

You snort with laughter. "And what did you guys say in return?"

His lips twitch. "Klaus pretended to compel us all, fed off Paul, and told them to mind their business. I thought that Stefan guy was about to blow a vein when Damon gritted his teeth and mentioned that we were important to you."

"Please tell me Klaus' bite didn't poison Paul," you grumble.

"Nah. That was the only upside of the night. We found that a werewolf's bite doesn't affect us like it did you. Elijah's impressed and is going to look into our breed of vampire."

"Well that's good, I guess. Did everyone get fitted?"

"Yeah, we're all good."

"Good." You scoot up and kiss square on the lips. "Now go shower and change into something more comfortable than jeans. I'm in the mood for some cuddles."

Dwayne grins and kisses you again, lingering a little longer and leaving you breathless after scraping his fangs along your bottom lip. "Just cuddles?"

"Hmm? No," you answer in a bit of a daze. "Definitely not. Now hurry up."

#the lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #dwayne x reader #the lost boys imagine #lost boys imagine #lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys fanfiction #dwayne #david #paul #marko #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #tvd #elena gilbert #damon salvatore

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slut4thebroken · 3 months

Note

Hear me out: Dominant Neil Lewis saying this to his best friend “I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Because Neil is so the type who hates it when someone’s attention isn’t on him like he’s possessive and desperate for it.

Barely proofread lol but enjoy <3

I’m trying to get better at being able to post fics that don’t have a difinitive start and end lol. That’s the main reason it takes me so long to write :,)

“Dude, you look like you’re gonna blow a blood vessel or something.” Lucian said, making Neil huff.

“She’s letting some random dickhead feel her up!” He said defensively, throwing his arms around in a wild gesture at the appalling sight.

“She’s a grown adult… She can do what she wants.” Jonathan spoke carefully, not wanting to set him off even more. “And he’s barely even touched her..”

“You know what? If she’s gonna act so careless, it’s only right that I look out for her.” He said, now sounding more determined than angry.

“Neil… don’t do something stupid.” Lucien’s warning fell on deaf ears though.

“He’s definitely gonna do something stupid..” Jonathan said to the other man just as Neil started storming over.

“Finding everything okay?” He gritted with a forced smile, practically glaring daggers at the douchebag who thought he could come into his store and touch his friend like some fucking pervert.

“Yeah, man. Thanks…” He replied, sounding a little confused. You gave Neil a questioning look, but he ignored it and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “Oh.. Sorry, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He said to you, his tone almost making Neil feel guilty because the man genuinely seemed like he felt bad about this whole thing.

“I don’t.” You said in a low voice, looking up at Neil and glaring at him.

“Yeah well she’s not interested in dating right now anyway.” He said definitively, making your eyes narrow even more.

“Yes I am.”

“You’re not even her type.” That made you scoff, even though.. he was technically correct. “If you’re not planning on renting a movie you can see yourself out.” Neil said sweetly, giving the man a saccharine smile.

“Uh… okay then.” He said awkwardly, giving you another look before finally walking out.

“What the fuck was that?” You hissed, gently elbowing him in the stomach to get him off of you.

“Sexual harassment is not tolerated at Gumshoe Video.” You stared at him for a moment, trying to read his tone, but you quickly realized that he wasn’t joking.

“You can’t be serious.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“He’s not even your type anyway, I don’t get why you were talking to him in the first place.”

“It’s called making a friend. If you tried that every once in a while, you might have more friends than just the three people in this room.” You were quickly getting more frustrated and annoyed with him.

“That’s what friendship is? So I can start feeling you up then?” You rolled your eyes at his immature response.

“God- Neil, you can’t keep doing this!”

“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” He said in a low voice as he took a step closer, bringing a light blush to your cheeks.

“We’ve been over this,” You sighed.

“Yeah, we have. And yet you seem to keep forgetting.” He snarked. Knowing this conversation wasn’t going to get you anywhere, you rolled your eyes and walked over to flop down onto the couch next to Jonathan. He gave you an apologetic smile and you laughed quietly in response. Honestly you were surprised Neil didn't have a problem with you interacting with his friends. Maybe he just knew that they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and make a move on you.

“You're welcome by the way, for saving you from that creep.” He called out, making you roll your eyes again with an exaggerated huff. You’re not going to ever admit it because he’d start using it as an excuse for acting like this, but you were a little uncomfortable with the way that guy was touching you. Sure it was a playful hand on your shoulder, but you felt embarrassed and awkward, especially because you could practically feel Neil’s eyes on you throughout the whole interaction.

“I was fine.” You grumbled, sinking into the couch a little and sulking. Truthfully, you kind of liked his protective nature. It made you feel wanted. But the longer this went on, the stronger that feeling became, making him even more overbearing to the point where you wondered if you’d ever actually be able to get a boyfriend while you were still friends with Neil.

#neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #cillian murphy #smut prompt list #smut prompts

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 7 months

Text

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

Y’all… this word count… I’m was almost gonna slept it up but decided not too. Anyways hehe. Also the last chapter is gonna be posted on Halloween at the witching hour in PST, cause Halloween chapter! so I’m excited about that lol. The usual, not proofread, Miguel might be ooc.

(Y/F/N)- Your full name.

Not much Miguel and reader interaction but what is there is worth it. Me attempting to write about sports stuff I don’t know anything about even though I promise I did attempt research. Cursing (I think tbh I can’t even remember but probably), fluff (if you squint?????), I’m giving up on these tags lmao.

Word count: 2.8k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 14: Ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? ‘Cause I always do.

—

It wasn’t entirely surprising how quickly you got everyone in your group to agree to go to the game later, although you were expecting Logan to be against the idea since he hates the sport, but apparently his want to see you and Miguel get together was stronger than his hate for hockey since he immediately agreed.

You were currently in your 4-way shared Airbnb getting ready for the hockey game, having already been kicked out of the dorms by the university despite there being a game tonight, which didn’t make sense in your opinion, but that’s neither here nor there. Usually you would usually travel back home during the breaks, but due to you and Logan participating in regionals this year, you had to stay in Nueva York, you had both decided to stay in one rather than a regular hotel since it would be cheaper, Kate and Xavier tagged along for emotional support.

“I’ve never actually attended a hockey game, what do you wear? Probably a crew neck or a hoodie right? It’s still an ice rink. Maybe I should wear school merch, ugh but the only school related jacket I have is our skating team varsity jackets.” Kate, Logan and Xavier just stayed silent as they watched you rambled on, their faces full of amusement (and from Logan just the slightest bit of annoyance) as they watched you freak out , glancing at you every once and a while as you kept pacing between the hallway bathroom and your room as you attempted to get ready for the game despite it not starting for another 3 and a half hours.

“You should have asked Miguel for one of his spare jerseys.” Logan teased as he wandered towards your doorframe and leaned against it as he watched you dump your suitcase over your bed. How the hell do you not have a red or blue jacket??

“Shut up Logan.”

“You’re overthinking this, you know.”

“What? No I’m not.” Oh, you totally overthinking this.

“He’s got you whipped.” Logan snickered, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. You in response threw a pillow in his direction, which he hit to dodge.

“You’re not funny Logan. Do you have a school sweatshirt I can borrow?” You said, releasing a deep exhale through your nose as you turn to look at him.

“I think I think I have a spear.” He replied as he picked up the pillow off the floor and tossed it on your bed. “I just don’t want Miguel trying to beat me up over you wearing my jacket.” He added as he walked over to where you were standing, stopping once he was right next to you.

“He wouldn’t, I promise. I won’t let him.”

—

“This is actually kinda fun to watch.” Xavier said to Kate, as she glanced over to you before back at the rink. The spiders were currently in the lead 2 to 1 and it was about to be the end of the first period, a little less than 6 minutes before the timer reaches zero.

“It’s totally scary though.” Kate said as she took a sip of her soda, you nodding in agreement.

“So glad I went into figure skating…” Logan muttered as his eyes widened, an almost horrified look spreading on his face, but he couldn’t look away. You would have giggled at his reaction if you didn’t feel the same way. Both sports are dangerous just in their own ways.

You turned your head as you saw Peter pass the punk to Miguel, who you believed was playing center, (you watched one of those 10 minute crash course videos on how hockey works before you came to the show because whether if you were aware of it or not, Logan was right about you being whipped already) as he was making his way closer to the goal, when one of the players on the opposite team came crashing into him back first. The other player’s elbow “accidentally” hit Miguel’s face, and Miguel was knocked back, landing against the wall as the player on the opposite side took the puck.

“What the fuck-.” You muttered under your breath in shock, cringing slightly as you watched Miguel’s hand going up to cover his mouth, his face wincing in pain, your hands going up to mirror his actions. As soon as Miguel’s hand made contact with his mouth, a timeout was called. The spider's couch went up to Miguel first, talked to him for a bit before walking over to where the referee was. You couldn’t hear anything from either interaction, so you just watched silently, ignoring your friends glances towards you, keeping your eyes on Miguel, worried written on your face. Miguel’s eyes shift around the arena, before finding yours, you can tell he’s trying not to cringe as much as soon as your eyes meet, as if he didn’t want you to see him in pain.

Once you two were looking at each other, you took your hand off your face and mouthed an “are you okay?” to which Miguel took his hand off his mouth and gave you a thumbs up and a smile, but his smile didn’t free you of your worries, in fact, it made it worse, before you could stop your body, you let out a gasp as your eyes widened. His mouth was bleeding, and it was bleeding a lot.

His expression seemed to falter a bit upon seeing your reaction, to what though you couldn’t really tell. Panic? Worry? You don’t know. Other then the initial pain he felt when the elbow made contact with his face, Miguel wasn’t really worried about his injury despite the metallic taste filling his mouth, he didn’t feel anything break or a tooth fall out, sure he’ll probably be sore from a few hours and will have to clean his mouth guard, maybe think about getting a cage instead (this wasn’t the first time someone has elbowed him in the face during a game) but he knows it’s a part of the sport, that’s what he signed up for when he started playing. So why was it that seeing the concern on your face made his chest tighten with guilt? Miguel didn’t have another time to dwell on his thoughts before his coach sent him to the locker room to clean up.

—

Miguel felt like he was going to go insane if he didn’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth. He’s already gone through 4 sticks of gum and had to refill his water bottle twice in an attempt to flesh out the coppery taste from his senses. He let out a frustrated huff of annoyance as he spat out another piece of gum and brought his water up to his mouth and took a big swig, gargling it a bit before spitting it out in a sink and finally started to make his way out, his bag with his gear slung over his shoulder as he exited the locker room. They had won the game luckily, but Miguel wasn’t as happy as he wanted to be about the victory, maybe it was because he was still mad about getting elbowed in the mouth, maybe it was because he had to be benched due to him getting injured so early in the game or maybe it’s because out of all the games he played this season, of course he got injured at the one you were attending.

Most of the team has gone home already, some stragglers were left, two of those being Miguel and Peter, and Miguel wouldn’t be surprised if you had left already, he probably would have if he was in your shoes. Maybe you got the ick from him now after watching him get hit in the face, and he would be back in square one all over again, the thought was more painful then the hit to his mouth. His mind was running a mile a minute as we made his way down the hall and towards the main exit to head to his car where Peter was most likely already waiting for him. As he walked, he was trying to keep his thoughts on his sore jaw and about the game, trying to to not think about how you saw him get hit, or how your face twisted in disgust at the sight of his bloody smile after you asked him if he alright, the embarrassment and angry he felt when after he came back from the locker room Coach Turner benched him, how-

Is that you talking to Peter in the parking lot???

“I should turn around and wait till she leaves…” he told himself under his breath, but his feet continued to move him closer to where both of you stood near Miguel’s car. Once he was a big closer Peter noticed him first, since your back was facing him, talking to him about something he couldn’t quite pick up on.

“Ah speak of the devil.” Peter said with a smirk, one you would haven’t thought much of, but Miguel knew that there was a smug undertone to it, as if he was right about something. “Sup Mig, we were just talking about you.” He continued as you turned to face him, your eyes widened for a split second as they scanned Miguel’s face, as if checking for more injuries, before you took a step closer to him, you hand instantly going to rest gently on his arm.

“Hey! Oh my god, are you okay? That hit looked brutal, god that jerk.” Miguel didn’t know if it was the way your tone and face went from concerned to annoyed as you spoke, or the way you hand went traveled from his arm to his chin, lightly gripping it and moving his face from side to side gently, mirroring his actions earlier in the day when he did the same to you after he bumped into you at lunch, but god did you make his heart burst with warmth.

“I’m okay ice princess, calm down.” Miguel assured you with a small smile, a chuckle escaping his swollen lips as he took your hand and brought it down away from his face, giving it a light squeeze as he did so. Neither of you have realized that Peter had slipped away into Miguel's car.

“Okay, okay good.” You sighed and nodded, glad to know he was relatively okay.

“Didn’t mean to get you all worried Princesa.”

You scoff, taking your hand away from him and lightly hit his chest.

“God, you always gonna say something stupid, huh?” You rolled your eyes, but your tone couldn’t hide the smile forming on your face.

“Of course I do, ice princess, how else am I supposed to annoy you?”

—

To say you were nervous was a complete understatement, you have never been more terrified for a skating performance in your life. It was your first time performing for regionals after all.

You had barely gotten a wink of sleep, a few hours at most, but you mostly spent the night twisting and turning, glancing at your phone to look at the time, before letting out a frustrated groan and pulling your sheets up a bit higher in an attempt to get yourself to finally sleep. But your attempts were mostly futile, finally throwing in the towel around 5:00 in the morning, deciding it would be better to spend your time Getting ready for the day you’ve been anticipating rather then attempting to get another hour of sleep you know you won’t get.

By the time the clock had struck 5:30, you'd already packed your equipment in your bag, and had loaded it in Logan’s car, not surprised when you saw his back already packed, before making your way to the kitchen to make yourself breakfast, something light but enough to keep you full till lunch.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Logan asked when you saw him enter the kitchen, two Starbucks cups hand, passing you one as he took a sip of his, his voice low as to not wake up Kate or Xavier. You let out a hum and nodded your head as you took the one he handed you and took a sip, the caffeine making you wince as you feel it try to wake your body up a bit.

“We should hit the road soon, coach Kavinsky said we should be at the rink by 6 so we can make it in time for check in and make it for our off ice warm up.” You said as you stood up from your seat, putting your dishes in the sink.

—

“God, I didn't know our short program would take so long…” Logan huffed as you both threw your figure skating jackets over your performance outfits for the first half of the competition, as you both rushed down the arenas long hallway being careful to avoid running into some of the other pairs as you made your way back to the locker rooms to change.

“Did you see Kate and her boyfriend?”

“No. Did you see Miguel and his friend?”

“No. I didn’t get enough time to look around the seats to find them.”

“Same.”

You both dropped the conversation once you both reached your respective locker rooms. Quickly changing out of the first dress and slipped the second one on, it was a full black dress with long mesh sleeves and smoke black mesh on your sides, being sure to be careful with the gemstones that were placed around the waistline and the chest, and the black feathers that accented the back in order to look like a pair of small wings as you slip your jacket back on, before going to change your lip color and eye makeup.

You were stressing hard, hell, you were surprised you were able to apply your eyeliner with a steady hand. You didn’t need to rush, since you and Logan weren’t going back on the ice for a while since they still had a few short programs to go through before you were supposed to go back on, but you tended to rush when you were nervous. Once you finished fixing your makeup you went to touch up your hair, placing two feathered wing hair clips that pinned flat against your head to match the ones of your costume, one of each side of your head. As you were placing some more bobby pins in your hair to help keep the small wings in place you heard your phone ding next to where you had placed it next to all your supplies. Once placing the last bobby pin in your hair, you grabbed your phone to open it and look at the notification.

Hey, you did amazing, can’t wait to watch your other dance. -unknown number

Fuck how your heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t even need to ask who it was to know it was Miguel, although you never gave him your phone number, so you were a bit curious as to who he had asked for it, but for now you’d have to push that to the back of your mind and focus at the more important upcoming task at hand.

—

“Next skaters going for the free skate, (Y/F/N) and Logan Martinez.”

A pause as the two go into their starting positions before Swan Lake by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky begins to fill the arena, the two skaters cladded in black, the gemstones on their costumes, despite their small size, shimmered brightly from the lights. No sounds other than the music filling the rink and the occasional swish from the skates slashing the ice.

You might be representing the black swan but you’ve never looked more like an angel in Miguel’s eyes. Despite the tragic atmosphere that the performance was depicting, you looked absolutely heavenly to him, he shouldn’t be surprised, this is what you love to do, what you wanted to do for a living. But he’s never got the chance, no starch that, the privilege of watching you do a routine in all of your full glory. He’s caught glimpses of you and Logan doing both routines during practices, but that was different, you wouldn’t portraying the emotions like you were right now, you wouldn’t wear the performance outfit like you were now, and the energy you were putting into the routine was far more grand than when you would practice back on the uni’s arena. He could already see himself watching from home as you and Logan were representing the country in the Olympics, but then again, maybe it was just his heart talking,being overzealous. He didn’t know if it was the performance or just your presence that he couldn’t tear his gaze from, but he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to look away in the first place.

You and Logan were selected to advance to sectionals.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @miguel-ohara-eater @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio @minimari415

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #on thin ice fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #figure skating au #hockey au #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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colourstreakgryffin · 11 months

Text

Yandere! Romantic! KNY Tokito Muichiro Headcanons

(🥳 It’s a celebration~ 🥳 Final post of the Yandere Hashira seriesss~ Leaving one of the best for last!)

(Yaaay! A top favourite! Muiii 🥰! He’s aged up to adulthood for this post since I’m not comfortable with writing romantic stuff for a 14yr old! Anyway, this one is greaaat!)

Muichiro as a romantic Yandere has the Yandere traits of; Overprotective, Possessive, Delusional, Violent, Psychotic, Hateful, Clingy/Loving and Emotionally Attached

Muichiro doesn’t really notice nor care about you being the new Hashira, gaining new support is fairly normal. A new Hashira, okay then. He does get a bit alarmed when you approach him and start stirring up a conversation despite him not answering

Though, resistance is futile as Muichiro slowly begins responding to you and your want to be friends with him. He guesses, talking to somebody so nice is a treat

You remind Muichiro of Tanjiro and that makes him all the more interested in you. You have that matching positivity, that matching view of the world and he feeds of that type of person. Muichiro feels his heart suddenly beat faster each time he sees you, the longer he gets to know you

He went from; “I don’t care about her” to “I always want to be around her” in almost no time. Even in his pre-Yandere state, Muichiro was already semi-Yandere as his obsession with being around you and learning about you in such mediocrity conversations shaped very fast. He grew unhealthily attached to you and threw mental fits if he couldn’t be by your side

Muichiro’s head was finally cleared of the mist only six years ago and is now filled with thick fog after realising his love for you. The fog zeroes in on you and blocks out everything but the most important thing to him, you.

Combining a Yandere obsession with Muichiro, he ends up becoming one of the most dangerous Yandere Hashira out there as he quickly averted back to his past self with a willingness to raise his sword but doubled. Cold, heartless, careless, aggressive. He forgot all about the important lessons of sympathy Tanjiro taught him as you drown out his rationality

Muichiro is very overprotective in both casual and battle sense. He gets fuming jealous of other people staring at you and shanks into them hard after intimidating the everliving sh*t out of them till they run away crying or terrified for their lives. You’re not gonna be able to go outside anymore without Muichiro weaselling his way into your schedule and then mercilessly berating somebody all because they needed to talk to you for whatever reason

“Unlike all of you, who have no value in the slightest, Dokusha’s value is insanely high and her time is vastly important as a Hashira and that should be obvious. Think before you act, Dokusha will not waste her beautiful breath on you feeble-minded nuisances—“

Muichiro is quite violent. Like Shinobu and Sanemi, he doesn’t mind spilling blood if needed to keep you safe and from those nuisances that plague your homeland. He’ll openly attack the people who approach you like a bloodthirsty bear and chase away them with his sword swinging. If he manages to land his hands on somebody, he’ll beat them to a inch of their life, Yandere Muichiro is merciless

Goddamn it, Muichiro is the most delusional Yandere out there(alongside dangerous). His thick clouded mind can only process what he badly wants, so nothing but your forced praise and/or your forced remarks of love for him will go through his ears. Everything else is washed away and replaced with bulls**t excuses from those tiny voices in his head. He is so delusional, he believes you’ll love him too, no matter if he had hurt your fellow Hashira, your friends or your family

Muichiro is swallowed whole by his obsession and the need to keep ownership of you. You’re his and his only, not your stupid little family’s, not your closest friend’s, not the random fleet market woman’s. NOBODY and he won’t let people brainwash you into thinking you don’t belong to him so he’ll take away that possibility altogether

Muichiro is extremely hateful towards everything and everybody except you. He glared down all the threats he must face and berates the living breathing beings around him, including his fellow Hashira. His hate is infernal and won’t ever disappear anytime soon, it fuses with his Yandere traits and amps up his danger level, he will gladly kill to vent out his anger hatred over all creatures except you

The Mist Hashira has his disastrous ways to keep you as his when he knows you are. Kidnapping, he isn’t above kidnapping and he’ll strip away your freedom until he is convinced he can trust you. He, however, is kind after kidnapping and will give you a comfortable environment so you’ll express your mutual love to him sooner

So stuck up in his ridiculous fantasies that he’ll never know that you hate him forever for what he has done. To innocents, to your sick mother, to you. How could you stand a complete lunatic like him! You don’t but you don’t have a choice in the matter

Muichiro is psychotic, if not, extremely psychotic. He doesn’t redirect his deranged mannerisms to you but to his worst enemies, the demons he fights and the people who dare to speak with you. They all will be cut down to size and he’ll smile hysterically whilst doing it. He does let his mania slip out at times though, it won’t hurt you at all

-Muichiro is very clingy and loving towards you, his beautiful spouse. He expresses his intense affections through random physical gestures, carrying you around bridal style, letting you sleep in his lap. Muichiro thrives off all of it! He does force you to let him give you affection pretty much every single time but he won’t lay his hands on you, he loves you too much

Muichiro’s Yandere means and obsession is centred around his emotional attachment to you. He is very emotionally attached and requires your presence to function, otherwise, he’ll mindlessly attack everybody around him like a true mentally-ill man. He has very bad mood drop when you aren’t around to sustain him and providing him affection powers him in a style of a candle

Muichiro does steal some of your belongings for his twisted pleasure but he returns it once he’s done as he respects your needs and he won’t push past your boundaries and hurt you. Like pretty much all the Yandere Hashira, he doesn’t realise that you’re hurt and blankly believes you’re so happy that you’re living with him now

You’ll end up spending so much time in the Mist Estate, that you’ll eventually forget what the outside looks like as Muichiro keeps you hidden away from the world out of his extreme need to have you as his soon-to-be-wife. After he took you away from the world and the Corp and brought you to a single room chained to the wall, he proposed to you and forced you to take his hand

“Aren’t the clouds so pretty, Dokusha, love? A-ah? No… I’m not gonna let you go to that place, me and this Estate is your true home. No, no, please don’t cry, I promised and still will look after you, my dear. Come on, let me cheer you up”

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime and manga #tokito muichiro #muichiro tokito #yandere #yandere romance #Yandere muichiro tokito #kny hashira #mist hashira #yandere imagines #kny imagines #headcanons #muichiro x reader #tokito x reader

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eddiemunsonswhxre · 2 years

Text

fountain / eddie munson

rated: m (18+, minors DNI)

one shot

cw: literal p!ss kink, pet names (babe/baby), mentions of sex

note: if you think it’s gross, plz don’t read. i wrote this as a request from a friend and tbh it was hard to write anyway and i debated posting it😅 no hate to ppl who have this k!nk and so sorry if i didn’t write it well enough.

—

“okay, now get out eddie i have to pee,” you giggle, shoving your boyfriend towards the door after you’d just got done plucking his eyebrows.

he just shook his head at you and crossed his arms. “i don’t see why i can’t stay in here with you, we’ve already had sex,” he states loudly. you clamp your hand over his mouth with wide eyes. the door was open and your sister's room was exactly across from the bathroom. he rolls his eyes at your actions and carefully pulls your hand away. “her music is blaring, she didn’t hear me,” he says in a quieter tone and pointed eyes.

“watch it,” you mumble and glance towards your sisters room anyway.

“go pee so we can go start that movie,” eddie says, motioning towards the toilet.

you groan, not seeing a point in fighting with him since it wasn’t that big of a deal to you anyways. “close the door, please,” you say with raised eyebrows. eddie does just that a focuses on inspecting his eyebrows as you use the bathroom.

as the months of your relationship went on, eddie just always ended up following you to the bathroom when you had to pee. you chalked it up to being part of his separation anxiety which he wasn’t afraid of telling you about.

you did find it kind of odd when he started requesting to watch your pussy as you peed, but he was an oddly curious boy and you weren’t the type to care. you should’ve connected the dots sooner.

“babe, i’m gonna go use the restroom,” you say, standing up from your spot on his couch. you look at him expectantly, ready for him to stand and follow you. instead he only looks at you, biting his lip, like he was thinking about something.

he opens his mouth, closing it and looking to the side. he was nervous. “baby…” he started slowly, looking down to mess with his rings. “i want to uh, tell you… and ask you something. i don’t want to weird you out or anything but… i’ve thought about it a lot,” he rambles, refusing to make eye contact.

you furrow your eyebrows, but nod. “what’s up babe?“ you ask, put off by his very unusual behavior.

“um…,” he glances up to you before putting his face in his hands. “i want you to piss on me,” he says very quickly, his words blending together so much you couldn’t understand him.

you look at him in confusion. “i didn’t catch that?” you say carefully.

eddie groans, his hands slamming down on his thighs and his head falls back. “i want you to piss on me,” he yells, screwing his eyes shut. your jaw drops at his words. he wants you to what?!

eddie takes note of your silence and is slightly scared he might’ve just ruined your relationship. “i’m sorry, what?” you ask in utter disbelief.

“shit,” eddie curses to himself, but knows he can’t just pretend he didn’t ask. “i want you to sit on my lap and piss on my dick, because… because it turns me on,” eddie explains.

“eddie…” you start, slightly disgusted at the thought.

eddie shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “i know, your boyfriend not only is a freak, but a disgusting one who has a piss kink,” he groans.

“babe… don’t talk about yourself like that, it’s just… i’ve never heard of anything like that. it’s- it’s hard to process,” you say, trying to think through the concept.

eddie purses his lips, knowing you’re slightly considering it. “i know, baby. i don’t know why i like it, but the idea just gets me so horny. anything to do with your pussy makes me horny,” he elaborates.

“won’t it make a mess?” you question.

eddie shrugs. “yeah, but we make a mess every time we fuck because someone cums a lot so…” he says, hinting at you.

you stand there for a moment longer before shrugging. if you hated it, you’d never do it again. but how could you deny him? “so are we doing it here or your room or?” you ask, causing his head to whip up.

“you’ll do it?” he asks in excitement and shock.

“babe, i’ll try just about anything for you,” you say seriously.

eddie’s smile widens at your words. “i can’t wait to marry you one day,” he says, also being serious. he settles down in the couch and motions to you. “take those jeans and panties off and come here,” he says hungrily, patting his lap. you giggle and begin unbuttoning your pants. you quickly shed your undergarments and then make your way onto his lap.

eddie positions your hips right above his clothed cock that was slightly hard. “do you want your pants on?” you ask genuinely.

“yeah, i don’t know, we can try without later but i want to feel it soak in,” eddie says, his eyes trained on your pussy that was hovering above his crotch.

you nod and then relax your hips, trying to let go but you were struggling. “i'm nervous,” you whisper, looking up at eddie shyly.

he brings his eyes to meet yours and then leans forward to kiss you softly in reassurance. “don’t be, it’s just me and we’re just trying something,” he says calmly and then reaches his fingers down to rub soft circles on your clit. “just let go, piss on me, baby,” he coos. you nod, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes.

your bladder was pretty full, eddie always had beer to drink and it ran through you so fast. eddie’s fingers on your clit make you less rigid and you push lightly. you let out a hum of relief as your bladder finally starts to empty. eddie’s hand leaves your clit, both hands on your hips as he moans lowly. you open your eyes, looking down to watch the wet patch on eddies crotch spread. “fuck, baby, that’s so good, holy shit,” eddie moans, the two of you watching his cock grow in his pants as your stream coats his jeans. you push a little harder, the piss coming out harsher and causing eddie to grunt.

as the last bit of piss dribbles out of you, you drop down into your puddle making a slapping sound. eddie throws his head back, humping up into your core as you grinded against him. “i’m gonna fuck you now,” eddie says to the ceiling, and you know he’s dead serious.

#stranger things eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie #munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things #p!ss k!nk

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joekeeryswife · 2 years

Note

Hear me out, Kurt x camgirl Reader

Camgirl - K.K

SMUT IMPLIED PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT SUBJECT OR YOU’RE UNDERAGE - this isn’t really smutty because i am really uncomfortable with that. hope this is okay though. this is also super short because i had no clue what to write without feeling uncomfortable. sorry.

to say you weren’t famous was an understatement. you were VERY famous. you had twenty million followers on instagram and thirty million subscribers on Only fans. yeah you beat Blac Chyna who used to be the most followed person. you had no idea why you got so big on there but you weren’t really complaining. you loved the fans that you had and you were supported by so many people. creating an only fans was one of the best decisions you had made.

you had made so many friends like Anna Paul and so many others (a/n Anna Paul owns my heart<3) you loved the content you created and would sometimes even do private videos for people who paid an amazing sum of money or people who requested a private video. you did live videos and posted pre-filmed videos and photos of you in lingerie, you also sometimes did collaborations with other onlyfans workers which made you get really famous, but you were mainly known for the live videos you did and you were “professionally” known as a camgirl. you did lives every Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, giving you a break on the spare days. that was when you usually took your photos and made your pre-filmed videos that you would post on one of those days. you were hated on, obviously, by different men and women who judged you for your choice of job but you honestly didn’t care.

you had just finished filming a video at a new location and decided to get a Spree Social. obviously it wasn’t your preferred choice of transportation because you could be in the car with a right knob, but Uber was unavailable. you never drove to different locations when filming. you’d rather not show anyone but your Uber or Spree driver you were there. you requested a Spree and within 5 minutes your driver was there. you got into the car and made sure that you were in the right car before the driver started driving. “i’m a big fan” you heard as you were texting your friends on your phone. “i’m sorry?” you questioned. you were trying to make sure you heard correctly. “i- i said i’m a big fan. sorry if i made it weird” he said, stuttering over his words. you smiled at him. “well thank you, i’m glad you like the content” you joked, looking at him through the rear view mirror. you winked at him when you caught his eye and he blushed hard.

you guys spoke for a bit about different hinges before turning back to your onlyfans. “so, how did you grow your audience so quickly?” he said, stopping at a red light. you gave him a look. “i post myself naked on the internet, i’m gonna get some views at least.” you said, smirking a bit. this boy did not have a clue. “well obviously, but like how did you grow so fast? i think i started watching you since one of your first videos” he said, sounding nervous. “i honestly don’t know, i guess i just kept trying till one of my videos went really viral and it worked.” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear. he shifted in his seat before speaking up again. “do you think i could start and onlyfans?” he said, voice so quiet you could almost not hear him. “anyone can start an onlyfans. are you experienced with girls and have you explored your own body? that’s the main question” you said, trying to get to know the nervous boy.

“i- well, uhh. no. i’ve never done anything with any girls.” he said, his head dropping slightly. you immediately felt bad. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to embarrass you” you said, he shook his head. “it’s fine, i’ve just never had anyone like me enough to do it. i obviously have explored myself just not another woman” he coughed afterwards. “it’s okay” you trailed on, you didn’t even know his name. he took the hint and spoke up again. “Kurt” he said, smiling a little. “well i’m y/n but i guess you already know that.” you laughed, he also laughed and then you carried on talking. “any girl would be lucky to have sex with you. it’s not a bad thing you’re a virgin. we were all virgins once in our lives and losing your virginity can be scary. i remember my first time. i was terrified” you said, looking out the window. you were both silent for a minute before you heard his phone go off. you looked around the car and didn’t even realise how many cameras were in his car.

“pull over and fuck her Kurt” you heard a lady’s voice say, she sounded almost robotic. your head snapped the where the sound was, his phone was on a stand with over 40k viewers. “i uhh, i’m sorry about that, i can’t control what they write.” he choked on his words as he spoke. you looked at the chat and saw some people making fun of him for being a virgin and some even congratulating him on even talking to you. he shifted slightly when you got closer to him. you whispered in his ear as he stopped at another red light. “should we show them what you are capable of?” he looked at you, then at your lips, then back at your eyes. you smiled as he nodded his head. he quickly drove to a random location and you sat back in your seat. you messaged your roommate telling her you wouldn’t be home till late so she didn’t wait up for you.

he drove to a boring field which had no one in it and stopped the car. “can they see from each camera?” you said as he got into the back of the car. “yeah they can” you heard him say. the phone spoke up again as you both started kissing. “oh my god. Kurt is getting it on with a camgirl” the robotic voice said, you both pulled apart as you laid down and Kurt got on top of you. “my camgirl” he said, you nodded your head as you took in more of his appearance. he was actually gorgeous. you’d usually not be kissing a boy you’d just met but something about Kurt that drew you to him. he was your type to a tea. “let’s put on a show for these weirdo’s” you spoke as you both got back to kissing. this was going to be a long night.

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formula1neverleft · 2 years

Text

Felipe Drugovich - Is There Somewhere

Pairing: Felipe Drugovich x female!reader (+ Clément Novalak x bff!reader)

Warnings: none really, fluff, swearing

Words: 3.6k

Song rec: loosely based on Is there somewhere by Halsey

Author’s note: this took me so long bc I decided to play around with a different pov only to come to the conclusion that I hate it but at that point I’d already written most of it so decided to post it anyway 🤠 Gonna be writing more for Felipe so any other ideas are welcome!! Not proofread. Feedback very much appreciated!! Enjoy xx

“Felipe”

It rolled off your tongue like you were made to say his name. Even with just that one word, Felipe knew what you wanted to say, your gaze switching between his eyes and his lips a few times. You were so close to him that Felipe was sure he’d remember every single freckle that adorned your beautiful face.

He let his hand wander up slowly, caressing your cheek before both of you started leaning in…

THUD

A loud knock pulled Felipe right out of the dream he was having, making him shoot up in a panic. He ran his hands over his face and sighed as he tried to shake the image of you from his mind.

Seven nights.

This was the seventh consecutive night where you’d ended up in his dreams one way or the other. No matter how hard he tried, Felipe just couldn’t shake you.

Whoever was at his hotel room door at this hour was growing impatient, the knocks increasing in frequency and intensity before he even had the chance to get out of bed.

Felipe had a feeling he knew exactly who would be on the other side of the door.

“Felipe, mate! Pretty please open the door for your teammate?”

The stark contrast between hearing his name from Clem’s mouth after hearing it whispered softly by you in his dream made Felipe pauze, letting his forehead drop against the door as he took a deep breath.

When he finally opened the door, Clement all but fell into the room, stumbling slightly before regaining his balance.

“Jeez, what took you so long??” he sighed dramatically, slurring his words.

“Mate, you're drunk, go to your own room” Felipe answered, but he could tell from the determined look on Clem’s face that getting him out of here would be near impossible.

“Actually, I’m not going anywhere until we…have a little talk” Clem said as he nonchalantly plopped down on the edge of the hotel bed, patting the space next to him. The mischievous look in his eyes made Felipe’s skin crawl.

He loved Clem like a brother, but nothing good had ever come from that look.

“You do know that we can talk during the day, like normal people do, right?”

“Oh but what would be the fun in that?” Clem replied mockingly.

Felipe considered his options for a few seconds, but quickly came to the conclusion that once Clem got something in that head of his, he wasn’t going to stop until got what he wanted. So he reluctantly shuffled over to the bed and sat down next to him.

“Marcus and I have decided that we need to stage an intervention” Clem crossed his arms in determination as the words left his mouth, “We can’t let this go on any longer”

“Mate, what are you talking about?”

“You’ve been skipping every night out with us for months now…and don’t give me the ol’ I need to focus on racing excuse, because you even stayed in after Barcelona. I mean, what kind of psycho wins the sprint and the feature race and then spends his night alone in his bloody hotel room?!” Clem was gesticulating dramatically, partly because of the alcohol, partly because it’s Clem.

Felipe sighed. He knew it would be about this. The boys had expressed their grievances about Barcelona for weeks on end. In the beginning of the year it was easy to come up with excuses, because it was his third year in f2 and it was now or never for him.

Then he started winning, and now his friends are wondering why he can’t have one night of fun in between all the work. Felipe didn’t have to wonder why, he already knew the answer. It was you.

From the exact moment Clem wandered into the MP garage with you by his side, Felipe was in awe of you.

Beautiful, soft-spoken, but you could make everyone in the room laugh with just a single comment.

At first, Felipe feared you might have been there with Clement as his girlfriend, but when Clem introduced you those worries were luckily tossed to the side. You were childhood best friends, more like a sister to Clem if anything. You’d decided to follow him around a bit during your gap year, wanting to see the world and acting as MP’s free social media person, camera always present around your neck.

Felipe initially thought his little crush would dissipate soon, until the Jeddah race when you’d come up to him while he was preparing to get in the car.

“Good luck out there today” you’d said with a soft smile, “I think it’s gonna go your way today”

“How do you know?” he had asked timidly. You just raised your shoulders nonchalantly, “just…feels like you deserve it” shooting him one last knowing look before turning on your heels and out of the garage.

Despite only having met you a few days ago, he felt a strange connection between the two of you, something he’d never felt before.

He won that race, and you had subsequently taken up residence in his brain. He thought about you in the car, during the debriefs, and now in his sleep too. He couldn’t escape you, even though he’d been trying hard enough.

Since Jeddah, Felipe had done everything in his power to keep himself in check. This was his year. His championship to lose. If he allowed himself to get distracted and fail, he would never forgive himself.

So he kept his distance from you, not allowing himself to get further than the friendly conversations in the paddock. When he knew you would go out with the boys, he stayed in, sure that the way he felt when you were around would only be intensified in a casual setting with some alcohol involved. He was doing the right thing, keeping both of you safe. You were none the wiser and he couldn’t get hurt.

“Hello?? Earth to Felipe” Clem was shaking him by the shoulder lightly, the look on his face a mix of disbelief and worry, “see, this is exactly what I mean, you keep disappearing, mate, and I don’t just mean physically”

“Clem, it’s just the championship getting to me, it’s..a lot of pressure” Felipe ran a hand through his curls, feeling just as disheveled as he probably looked after just being woken up at four in the morning, “I don’t want to mess it up. I can’t afford to.”

Clem nodded, looking defeated as he pushed himself off the bed with a sigh. He seemed to have somewhat sobered up as his own fatigue caught up with him, but Felipe could tell that this discussion was far from over.

Right before he got to the door, Clement stopped in his tracks, seemingly debating with himself before throwing one last comment Felipe’s way.

“She thinks you hate her, you know” he sounded uncharacteristically serious for once.

Felipe perked up at once, not needing a name to know exactly who Clem was talking about . What?

“I’m not an expert, but I do know you, and I’m pretty fucking sure that is not the case. So just…sort your shit out. Please.”

Felipe sat frozen in place on the bed as the door fell shut behind Clem.

You thought he hated you?

Even just the idea of it sounded so ridiculous, especially after he’d been dreaming about you less than ten minutes ago.

Sure, he wanted to keep you at a safe distance, far enough so that his judgment wouldn’t be clouded, but this was not how far he wanted to push it.

No, this wasn’t right, and he needed to fix it.

Felipe paced around the room for a moment, fighting the urge to somehow find your room and explain himself. Ultimately, he decided against an impromptu confession at this hour of the night and forced himself to get back in bed.

He made a silent promise to himself to handle the situation differently next race weekend. Maybe he could even be friends with you. Maybe.

When sleep finally found him again, he dreamt of you.

The next race weekend came and went in the blink of an eye. For an outsider, it looked like Zandvoort was shaping up to be the best weekend of Felipe’s life. It was, to an extent.

P1 in the feature race made it so he was almost sure of the title next week in Monza.

Despite all this, Clem’s comment still lay heavy on Felipe’s shoulders. He was determined to make you realize he wanted to be friends, which was made exponentially more difficult by the fact that he didn’t want to be friends with you at all. Not just friends, that is.

As Felipe entered the MP driver room, drenched in champagne from the podium celebrations, Clem was already inside, scrolling away on his phone. He’d crashed out of the race at one of the restarts so he had already changed out of his suit.

“Congrats again, big man. That title is as good as yours”

Felipe thanked him, but despite Clem’s words he couldn’t shake the feeling that Clem had been distant ever since last sunday. There wasn’t a doubt in Felipe’s mind that Clem was sincerely happy for him, but clearly the discussion had affected him as well.

“So, where’s the party tonight?” Felipe asked as he unzipped his suit, tying it around his waist. If he wanted to make things right, tonight was the night to do it.

Clem looked like he’d just seen a ghost, but his signature smile followed suit. He all but jumped from his chair and slapped an arm around Felipe.

“Yes boy, that’s more like it! You’re buying the first round tonight”

After Clem’s initial excitement had somewhat dimmed, he suddenly sported the same serious look he’d had in the hotel room.

“Y/N’s coming too, just so you know” he said.

Felipe nodded, “yeah, I figured she would”, he stared down at his feet.

“You know she’s like a sister to me, so just…don’t hurt her” Clem spoke, a hand landing on Felipe's shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“I don’t..that’s literally the opposite of what I want to do. I don’t know why I’m making it so difficult”

“I think you got it bad for her, mate. I get it, that can be scary. Just try not to muck it all up, yeah?”

If somebody had told Felipe at the beginning of the year that Clem would be giving him girl advice, he would have laughed in their face, but here he was. The prospect of getting to see you in a few hours made Felipe’s chest tighten. You had been in the paddock less and less over the last couple of months, and now Felipe could see he was the reason behind your absence.

He hoped that in a week's time, the title would be his, but more importantly, that he’d see your face when he looked down from the podium.

The club that Marcus and Clem had chosen was about on par with Felipe’s expectations. A dim blue light illuminated the space, people already standing in line at the bar, credit cards in hand, because it was clear you needed a good amount of alcohol to dance to the so-called music blaring from the speakers.

Felipe was more nervous than he’d been before the race, more nervous than he’d been the entire season to be fair. His lack of partying experience made him feel out of place and fidgety as their friend group packed into the club and around one of the small tables near the bar.

Clem hadn’t forgotten about Felipe’s promise to buy the first round, and clearly he had taken it upon himself to spread the word. After a few whoops and hollers from the boys, Felipe conceded and shuffled through the crowd towards the bar.

He was just about to turn around and call one of the boys over to help him carry the drinks when he caught sight of you.

You were standing at the bar, sharing a friendly conversation with a girl he recognized as Liam’s girlfriend while the bartender handed you your drinks.

Felipe stood frozen, all plans of how he would approach you straight out the window as he took you in. You never failed to take his breath away. The excessive noise of the music and the people around him seemed to blur into the distance as he focused solely on you.

While sipping your drink, you suddenly broke out into laughter at something the girl with you had said, reaching out to touch her arm as you doubled over.

Felipe found himself strangely jealous of her, because he would give anything to be the one that made you laugh like that. He was sure that just the feeling of your hand on his arm would single-handedly ruin his ploy to be just friends with you. With you, he would always want more. He couldn’t trust himself.

He was torn out of his haze as he suddenly made eye contact with the girl in front of you. Before he could register what was happening, she leaned forward to whisper something in your ear, causing you to turn and face his direction.

Felipe immediately shifted his gaze down towards his feet, coughing awkwardly before turning his attention back to the drinks on the bar. He wanted to slap himself for chickening out at the first sight of you, but he didn’t feel ready to face you just yet.

Unluckily for him, you didn’t have the same idea.

“What is your problem?”

Felipe almost dropped one of the glasses he was trying desperately to fit into his arms as you appeared next to him. He spun around to face you, mind racing as he tried to remember a single word of the speech he’d rehearsed in his head all night. You didn’t look angry, just confused as your eyes bore into his, refusing to back down before he gave you an explanation for his less than normal behavior. Before he had a chance to respond, Clem appeared from between the crowd.

“Mate, if I’d known it was gonna take you so long I would have had more shots at the pre’s-” Clem stopped his rant directed at Felipe as he took in the scene in front of him. He quickly pieced together that he’d walked in on something he’s not supposed to be a part of, the tension palpable between his two best friends.

“Okay, uh, don’t mind me. I’ll just uh- carry the drinks for you, let you two get back to…”, he gestured between the two of you, “whatever this is” he flashed his signature cheeky smile before shuffling away, cleary ready to tell Marcus all about exactly why the drinks were taking so long.

Felipe took a deep breath, closing his eyes and attempting to collect his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was dig himself an even deeper hole just because he was nervous to talk to you. When he opened them, you were still staring at him, your expression softer, hopeful for an explanation.

“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” he asked timidly.

You looked taken aback by his question, but answered quickly nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’d like that”

Felipe nodded, springing into action as he pushed his way through the crowd. You followed suit but struggled to keep up with him. When Felipe noticed, he extended his hand out to you. You looked at his outstretched hand for a second, but before Felipe had even registered the implications of his offer, your warm hand enveloped his as you shuffled closer to him, allowing him to guide you swiftly towards the exit of the club.

He had been right, earlier, when he thought that one touch of your hand would be enough for him to crumble underneath his feelings for you. The feeling of your intertwined hands made his stomach flutter, and Felipe couldn’t bring himself to let go even after he was greeted by the cool breeze as he stepped out of the club with you in tow.

The silence felt heavy as Felipe continued to guide you along the street, your hand in his indicating the many words left unsaid between you and him. It was only a few minutes before you reached the beach. Finally letting your hand drop from his, Felipe stood at the edge of the sand, contemplating his next move. You decided for him, leaning down to quickly rid yourself of your shoes before jumping into the sand and walking towards the water, Felipe following your example.

“Y/n, I..” Felipe wanted to say so much that he didn’t even know where to start.

“You are really confusing, you know?” you spoke up, facing him head on, hair blowing slightly in the wind, “I never know where I stand with you. Sometimes you act like I'm invisible, other times I catch you staring at me like…” you struggled to find the right words.

“Like what?”

“Like the way you’re staring right now!” you finally replied, “I don’t know what you want from me”

Felipe understood how strange his behavior must look from your point of view. He needed to come clean about everything if he wanted to keep you in his life.

“I’m just overwhelmed by you. When we met at the beginning of the season I thought I could just shake it off, but then in Jeddah..you were in my head after that”

Your expression softens as he speaks, clearly remembering the moment before the race when you’d gone to wish him luck. Perhaps you’d felt it too, the connection between you that had been occupying Felipe’s every thought since. He could only hope so.

“but at the same time I was finally winning, feeling like I had a real shot at the title this year. It was my last chance, my third year…my parents already are giving up so much to give me this opportunity” , Felipe hated how his accent became more prominent whenever he was nervous. It’s the reason he hates doing interviews, but this might be even worse.

“Truth is I was scared” he admitted, “scared of getting hurt, scared that I would mess something up with you or with the racing..so I took the easy way out and just did nothing”

You frowned slightly as you listened to him speak, and Felipe hated that he was the reason for your worried expression.

“but I dream of you. All I do is dream of you”

He instantly felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders at his confession.

“You deserve to know, and I’m sorry for treating you the way I did”

He stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t. His words had clearly rattled you, and for once it was you who was at a loss for words, the only sound breaking the silence being the waves breaking a few meters away.

“Y/n..please say something” Felipe pleaded softly.

He’d expected you to be angry, to say you need time. Maybe, if he was really lucky, you might agree to try and be friends again. What he didn’t expect is for you to respond by kissing him.

You took him by surprise by leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. You lingered there as your eyes opened, whispering softly as you realized what you’d done “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of jus-” Felipe cut you off by rejoining your lips, all gentleness now gone as his hands cradled your face while you kissed. Your arms found their way to his waist, knuckled whitening from grabbing onto his shirt.

He’d dreamt about this moment so many times, but even the best of dreams couldn’t compare to having you in real life.

You were lost in eachother as the kiss deepened, tongues working together like you’d kissed each other a thousand times before.

When your lips parted Felipe let his forehead rest against yours, not ready to give up having you so close to him just yet. He could stay in this moment forever if he could.

“One of us should probably say something” you whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“So I take it this means you forgive me right?” he asks as he reluctantly lets you take a step back.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I’ll think about it” you replied sarcastically.

“Oh, very funny” Felipe reaches out to tousle your hair in response to your teasing.

You joked and chatted with each other as you made your way back towards the club. If Felipe had his way, he would be alone with you, talking and kissing all night to make up for lost time, but he realized it was best to take things slow.

Once back inside, Clem immediately spotted you together. He looked a mess, hair sticking to his forehead and shirt almost completely unbuttoned for some reason, the night's drinks having their desired effect. Felipe gave you a joking look as Clem made a beeline towards the pair of you.

“There you guys are; I swear I was this close to calling the fu-” he stopped his tirade as his eyes landed on your intertwined hands. A knowing smile appeared on his face as he stepped closer to pat Felipe on the back.

“Bloody knew you had it in you mate”, before turning away in an attempt to locate the boys.

“Oi, Marcus, you owe me fifty bucks, mate!!” he said, pointing towards his two friends.

Felipe rolled his eyes, giving your hand a little squeeze.

He was sure that when he went to sleep that night, he would dream of you again.

Only this time, waking up would be even better.

#felipe drugovich #felipe drugovich fanfic #felipe drugovisch imagine #xreader #masterlist #felipe drugovich fluff #felipe drugovich smut #f2 #clement novalak #marcus armstrong #liam lawson

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