#halfwaythereroyalwrites

The younger girl had asked you to have a night in with her to help take her mind off the latest drama with Cesar, and you happily obliged. Well...it was supposed to only be you and Monse. Five minutes into the night, Ruby and Jamal had shown up, eager to get in on a night of face masks, movies, and snacks. You didn’t realize how late it had been until you checked your phone and realized it was close to their curfew. After bidding Monse goodbye, you ushered Ruby and Jamal out and walked them back to their respective homes. This is how you got here now, in the middle of the street, talking to the big, bad leader of the Santos, Oscar Diaz. 

Better known as Spooky. 

“Where exactly are we going?” you asked, “There’s not much open right now.” 

“Just get in the car. I thought you liked mystery and shit,” Oscar quipped, his signature smirk on his full lips. Your eyes narrowed at his answer, wondering what Oscar had in mind. Your time with Oscar consisted of movie nights at his place with tension so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. This was new and unexpected, and you weren’t sure if the fluttering feeling in your chest was a good thing or a bad thing yet. “Come on. I know your ass is freezing out here.” 

You let out a dramatic sigh and walked over to the passenger’s side, mumbling loud enough for him to hear, “you’re lucky I’m fucking freezing out here...with your mysterious ass.” The passenger’s door was pushed open from the inside by Oscar, and you quickly ducked in and shut the door. Oscar shut the windows on his side, and you quickly did the same with your window, shutting out the air from further freezing you. He thankfully blasted the heater, and you wasted no time in adjusting the heaters to point directly at you, thawing the LA cold out of your body. “Why do you always drive with all your windows down? It’s so cold! See, feel!” Without warning, you grasped Oscar’s forearm with your cold, clammy hands. 

Oscar sucked air in through his teeth at your sudden intrusion but did not make a move to pry your hands away, “Fuck, you’re cold!” 

“See?! Ugh this is Southern California. We should never be this cold.” You retracted your hands away from him, realizing you were still holding on to his arm.

He smirked at the sight of you placing your face inches away from the nearest heater, the heater blowing your hair back, before shrugging, “I don’t know. I can warm you up if you want.” His voice became lower with every word he said, and you took notice of his raised eyebrow directed at you. 

You cleared your throat, which has suddenly become dry, before saying, “Can we please get something hot to drink before we go?” 

Oscar kissed his teeth before breaking out into a wide smile, making you forget the need to breathe for the briefest moment “Sure, buckle in.” 

“Ugh thank you!” You reached around and buckled yourself into your seat and proceeded to lean closer to the heaters. The car was silent as he steered one-handed through the dimly lit streets of Freeridge. There weren’t many people out, and the only sounds to be heard were the blasting heaters and the low rumble of the engine. You took a deep breath in and leaned back into the seat before asking, “So where are we going?” 

“I told you it was a surprise.” Another silence ensued as you turned your head to look at the Santos leader, who was looking straight ahead at the road, his face void of any expression.

“...but can I get a hint of where we’re going?” 

“No.” 

“...if we’re having a movie night, you could have just texted.” 

“It’s not a movie night.” 

“You haven’t texted me in the past few days,” you whispered. “That’s not like you.” 

“I had to figure some shit out. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His response made you press your lips together and look out your window, crossing your arms once more. You could feel the heat of Oscar’s gaze intermittently focusing on you, burning the side of your head. The rush of heat going to your ears was accompanied by the audible thumping in your chest. You leaned your body against the passenger’s side door as much as you could and started contemplating words to say when Oscar’s hand gripped your left thigh. “Hey. Hey look at me.” You continued to stare out the window. “Hey, I’m sorry alright? Things got real tense with the Prophet$, and I had to sort shit out. I forgot to text you. I’m sorry.” You turned to meet his gaze, and it seemed all your anger had melted away with just a look into his dark eyes. 

“Thank you. I was worried about you, and no one knew where you went, so I thought...something had happened to you,” you begrudgingly admitted, hyper-aware of the fact that Oscar’s hand on your thigh set a warm fire throughout your body. You wanted to throw up. Or hold his hand. Maybe. This...this...pounding in your chest. The sudden rush of warmth in your ears. The hairs on your arm standing up. Cold and hot at the same time with heat slowly crawling from your neck to your cheeks. What is this?! 

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” Oscar’s voice broke through your storming internal monologue. Did his voice get deeper somehow? “I’ll always come back for you, babe,” he chuckled. 

“Ok that’s...not necessary,” you made a weak attempt to push Oscar’s hand away as your cheeks burned in embarrassment over his new nickname for you. Oscar only squeezed your thigh in return and kept his hand exactly where it was. You watched him skillfully steer one-handed into the parking lot of the nearest corner store and turn the engine off. The still silence prompted you to turn your head to the handsome man seated next to you, only to find him already turned to you. 

“What are you looking at?” You saw Oscar’s devastatingly dark eyes flit back and forth, holding your gaze as if reading your eyes could give a hint of the storm currently occurring in your mind. Oscar let out a chuckle before squeezing your thigh and giving it a light slap. 

“Let’s grab snacks too. I’m hungry.” He let go of your thigh and exited the Impala, leaving you in a daze. Your hand instinctively covered the area on your thigh that his hand previously occupied, lightly feeling the remnants of his warm touch. Shaking your head at your actions, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the car door, only for the handle to be pulled away from your reach by Oscar, who had pulled the door open for you. You muttered a low thanks, eyebrows furrowed at the Santos leader. He locked the car before walking ahead of you and opening the front door of the corner store, holding it open for you to walk in, You glanced at him suspiciously before thanking him again and walking into the store, taking note of the slight brush of his hand against your hip. You made a beeline for the hot drink station at the back of the store, clasping your hands together and slightly shivering as you shuffled over. Oscar was not far behind you, acting as your taller shadow, his breath slightly fanning over your neck as he looked over your shoulder. You swallowed the knot forming in your throat and kept it suppressed by making small talk. When it came time to pay for your snacks, Oscar had pulled out a wad of bills faster than you could grab the card out of your wallet. He grabbed the snacks as you told him a halfhearted promise to pay him back. 

“Don’t worry about it. I gotchu,” he smiled, placing his hand on your waist and ushering you out the door. His cologne has taken over all your senses now, and the wires of your brain were beginning to short circuit. You found it hard to even think outside of this time with him. You found yourself taking notice of all the small ways he was currently driving you insane. 

Like the way he still kept a hold on your thigh as he drove. 

And how he told you about how he had watched the food show you had recommended on Netflix. 

And how he asked you to feed him a gummy worm and you felt the faint touch of his lips as you placed one in his mouth. 

He also told you to reply to a text from Sad Eyes on his behalf, telling him that he can’t hang out right now. 

And with every laugh and every smile, he would squeeze your thigh which would send a jolt of endorphins through your body.

Before long, the winding road Oscar was driving up on ended on a flat lookout. There were only two other cars there, considerably distanced from the two of you. Oscar had parked the car to where the trunk was facing the twinkling lights of Freeridge down below. Without saying a word, he got out of the car and popped the trunk open, where he pulled out a large blanket, big enough to fit the two of you. You got out of the car, clutching your drink, snacks in the other hand, and let a cheesing smile make its way onto your face. 

“What is this?” you asked Oscar who was now looking at you expectedly. 

“I thought we could just chill for tonight. See the stars and shit,” he gestured upwards to the dark sky. You giggled at the lack of stars in the sky. Typical for Los Angeles. You handed your drink to Oscar who took it without question. 

“May I?” you asked, looking between him and the trunk of his car. Oscar nodded, and you jumped up on the top of his trunk, and he followed suit, wrapping both you and him in the blanket. You rested your weight against him, placing your head on his shoulder. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you looked at the yellow lights of the city below. “Why did you actually bring me here?” 

“...I wanted to ask you something.” You slowly raised your head off his shoulder, and looked at him, his face laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“What is it?” you whispered. 

Oscar cleared his throat before focusing his dark gaze on you. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, and I thought...that maybe...we could give this a real shot.” 

You grinned. “Oscar Diaz. Are you asking me to go steady with you?” 

Oscar kissed his teeth at your teasing grin. “Come on, I’m being serious!” 

“So am I! Are you asking me to be in a relationship or to be exclusive? They’re sort of different nowadays.”

“The first part.” 

“...I need to hear you say it.” 

Oscar gazed at you before cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. He whispered your name before asking, “will you be in a relationship with me?” You blinked at him a couple times before your hand came to meet his hand that was still caressing your face. You held his wrist and kissed the inside of his palm. 

“...what’s the magic word?” 

Oscar rolled his eyes at you before whispering, “please?”

You smiled before nodding, a little too enthusiastically. Oscar shook his head at you before returning your smile with a bright one of his own. “Ok now hold me,” you demanded, flinging his hand away from your cheek to go around your shoulder. You snuggled into the warmth of his body as he drew you closer and placed a kiss to your temple. “Took you long enough to ask me,” you whispered.  

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

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A/N: I have finally broken my writer’s block. There’s quite a few life changes and obstacles I’m going through, and finally being able to finish a fic was so satisfying. Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to my taglist! 

General: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta @panda-angela

     You should be happy. Off the top of your head, you can list several reasons why you should not be feeling like this. Like you would rather a Krayt dragon swallow you whole than to be sitting in the hull of the Razor Crest feeling like there is an empty space in your chest, and a sandstorm of anxiety tearing through your brain. You looked to your right, and The Child was peacefully snoring away, oblivious to the frenzied, fraught feelings fluttering in the very fibers of your being. His safety, happiness, and well-being should have been enough for you to dismiss these damned thoughts and feelings of yours. He and Mando should have been enough for you to feel joy and motivation as you once did. 

     They weren’t, and it made you feel even worse. 

     The thud of Mando’s boots coming up the ramp brought a brief sense of relief to you. He was a welcome intrusion to the pervasive feelings of dread that anchored you to the floor of the hull and drained you of any energy. 

     “Hey,” Mando greeted. 

     “Hey,” you gave a forced small smile in return. The slight action took up more energy than you expected, and your smile was quickly wiped away to conserve what little energy you had left. Your eyes followed his every move as he put away his equipment. There was a sense of comfort in watching Mando go through his routine. It was almost like watching him strip himself of the things that made him into a bounty machine, and by then end of it, he was...Din. 

     You took your eyes off of him and stared ahead at the wall in front of you, letting the thoughts come to the forefront of your head and trying to address each and every one. This proved to be a difficult task because as soon as you came up with an answer for your own question, the question would grow three heads in its place, making the buzz of your brain impossible to quell down. As the questions grew more and more proverbial heads, the tension that formed a belt around your head constricted, as if trying to keep these thoughts in your head rather than have your brain burst at the seams. The questions and thoughts were growing to be too much. The never-ending slew of thoughts. The weight on your chest that seemed to constrict your breathing. This fluttering feeling that seemed to make you want to hurl the contents of your stomach. It was coming together. As one. To form a hideous monster of your own creation. The anxiety. The guilt. The sadness. It was all too…

     “What are you doing on the ground?” 

    Your head snapped to meet the gaze of his visor. “Huh?” 

     “I asked what you were doing on the ground,” Mando gestured to your form leaned up against the wall. “You have a bed you can sleep in.” 

     “The floor was more comfortable.” Mando met your response with silence. He walked over to you, faced the same wall, and folded his beskar-clad body down on the ground next to you. 

     “Well...you’re a liar,” he groaned, his joints popping at the movement of his body. His small quip made you scoff out loud, and a real smile made it way to your lips. 

     “Maybe it would help if you weren’t wearing your body weight in armor,” you giggled. Mando responded with another groan as he adjusted himself to sit next to you as comfortably as possible. You adjusted your blanket to be able to drape half of it over his legs. This was probably a futile gesture, but it brought you comfort nonetheless to share a blanket with him. 

     “So what’s actually going on?” Mando asked, keeping his gaze straight ahead just as you were. 

     You took a few seconds to ponder over your answer. Trying to pick apart your brain for a suitable response, and coming up with...

     “I don’t know.”

     “What do you mean?” Mando asked in confusion. His helmet turned to the side to face you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you said the next words. 

     “I’m just so...sad. I don’t know what’s going on. And I can’t help but feel anxious over every word, action, and thought I’ve ever had. There are times where it gets to be so much that I wanna throw up.  I’m tired all the time no matter how much rest I get. I’m hungry, but I also don’t want to eat. It sucks because I love taking care of the kid, and I love traveling with you, but I...I-I can’t explain it. I feel...so sad.” 

     Mando had no words to offer, and your chest was slightly heaving as if you had lifted a physical weight off of you. You frowned at the wall in front of you. You must have sounded so stupid and needlessly emotional. The silence was getting to be a bit too much for you, and you grabbed the corner of the blanket to lift it off you, ready to leave to your own bed. 

     You were surprised by the warm touch at your back that it froze you into inaction. Mando’s hand moved to cup your shoulder, where he gently pulled you into his side. He kept his arm around you, and you felt your body go limp, relaxing into his touch. Your lips were quivering slightly, surprised at how much the simple gesture could be so comforting. 

     Mando cleared his throat and said, “You don’t have to explain.”

     The five words prompted your tears to begin falling freely from your eyes. You pressed your lips together in an attempt to stop sobs from coming out, but when Mando fully embraced you from the side, a broken sob tore through. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and began to cry, and cry, and cry. You leaned your head against his chest plate, and when you opened your eyes for a brief moment, you saw your tears smeared against the beskar. Mando’s embrace never faltered as you calmed down from the sobs that tore through your body. You slightly pushed against him to be able to sit up straight and gain some composure. His arms fell to his sides as he watched you try get yourself together. You sniffled, and wiped away the tears with the backs of your hands. 

     “I’m sorry,” you apologized. 

     “Why?” Mando asked. 

     “I don’t know,” you laughed, at a loss for how to move on from here.

     “There’s no need to be sorry,” Mando said in his low, modulated voice. “I’m here...if you ever want to...you know...talk.” 

     You smiled at his words. A genuine smile that took almost no energy at all. You leaned on his shoulder and looked up at the dark gaze of his visor. “Thank you. I’ll hold you to that.” 

     Mando brought you closer to him by pulling you to his side once more with his arm, and in turn, you wrapped your arms around his torso. You took one deep sigh and rested your head against his chest, willing your brain to shut up for this one moment. The warmth of Mando’s body seeped into yours, filling the empty space in your chest momentarily and allowing your body to relax against his. 

     You’re not sure when the thoughts will stop. When the anxiety will calm or when the sadness will go away. It could be next week, or it could be within the next year. In this galaxy of uncertainties, what you do know for sure is the kid and Mando are here, with you. And Maker willing, they will stay here, next to you, as you pick yourself up over and over again.

_______________________________________________

Masterlist

A/N: Life is still hard, and for me personally, a lot of that stems from work and being at a high-stakes job as a new graduate with no prior experience in a toxic workplace. I’m lucky enough that I have reading and writing to turn to for comfort. As I was writing this, I had to stop a couple times because I was crying or my anxiety/depression got to be too much to write about. 

To my fellow writers, thank you for your incredible work and support that never fails to comfort me. To my readers, I love and appreciate all of you for reading my work. 

If you, or anyone else you know, is going through mental health problems, know that you’re not alone. There are resources and people willing to help, and the first step is acknowledging that there is a problem. You may not know me, but I am rooting for you. It’s okay not to be okay. 

Resources for Mental Health

Taglist: 

General: @peppermintvanilla​ @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ @panda-angela

Your mind had been shut off for the last 10 hours, maneuvering on autopilot, dealing with one problem to the next. Working at the med bay was no easy feat, but when you are one nurse to dozens of patients, work becomes somewhat of a personal hell. Although there was only silence in the hallway leading to your shared room with Poe, you swore you could hear the distinct sound of incessant dinging from the med bay call lights. You felt your muscles begin to release held-up tension as the door of your room slid open. Your bedside lamp lit up the small space, and its amber light illuminated the chiseled features of a certain X-wing pilot.

He was sitting up in bed, back leaned up against the wall. He was scrolling through his tablet, no doubt reading through his squad’s reports. Poe’s warm, dark eyes looked up at you in greeting, and the sight of his familiar face made the dam of hot tears break, now flowing freely from your eyes. A broken sob ripped through your body, and your hands flew to your eyes by instinct in a futile effort to hide the tears. Poe was up in an instant, pulling your hands away from your eyes and wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt his hand gently push your head to rest on his chest, and his other hand was rubbing circles on your back. The tight embrace of his arms around you made your body relax even more, but also elicited even more sobs through your body, creating a wet spot in the middle of his shirt. It felt like this this tight, tense rope that held you together for the past few days had finally broken, and the only thing holding you together was Poe’s embrace.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Did something happen at work?”

“I-I just…I can’t…” you managed to stutter out these words in between the sobs that seemed to wrack through your body. Rather than trying to force out more words in explanation, you settled for wrapping your arms around his waist tighter, burying your face in his chest. “Hold me,” you sobbed. “Just please hold me.”

“Of course. Ssshhhh, it’s okay,” Poe whispered, pressing a kiss on your forehead before continuing to hold you. “I got you. I’m not going anywhere.” He continued to stroke your hair and back as your sobs calmed down to sniffles, and the tears began to dry off on your cheeks. Your sniffles were the only sound in the room other than the sound of Poe’s steady breathing. The comfort of his embrace never wavered, and the warmth of his body started to seep into your tired bones.

“Thank you,” you whispered, barely audible due to your face still resting against his chest.

Poe pressed another kiss to your forehead before tilting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he urged. “I’m here. You’re here. I got you.” You pressed your quivering lips together before nodding.

“Hold me…please.”

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Masterlist

A/N: I’m working a job for the first time ever, and it’s been hard to say the least, especially at something high-stakes and being the youngest. I was working on my other WIPs, but I had to write this to let out some feelings. I may or may not turn this into a series of drabbles with other characters as well. 

To the writers that I turn to when I’m feeling down, thank you for giving me some sense of comfort and sanity. To my readers, thank you for reading my stories. Let me know if you would like to be added to any of my taglists. 

General: @peppermintvanilla​ @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ @panda-angela​

Poe Dameron: @aroseamongthestars​

    Since that dreaded meeting, his face had permanently etched itself into your mind. The first thing you think of in the morning. The last thing you fall asleep to at night. The mysterious man had settled in the shadows, carefully avoiding attention, while he ran one of the biggest military forces the galaxy had ever seen. General Organa had entrusted you with the daunting task of tracking the man’s movements…for a good reason. Based on your last interaction with the infamous general, he would serve to be a great asset to The Resistance.

    Lines of letters and cyphers had slowly morphed into an illegible jumble. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose, willing the painful throbbing to go away. You leaned back against your chair; loud, satisfying cracks rang throughout the empty center. You continued to do small stretches in your chair to alleviate the stiffness that had settled into your joints. You paused, looking at your disaster of a workspace and listening to the humming of the monitors. Taking a deep breath, you got up from your seat and picked up all the cups that sat on your desk. You tossed the cups into a nearby bin, cleaned up your workspace, and walked out of command center. The air around you grew cooler as you stepped outside, relaxing the tension held in your shoulders. A wave of relief came over your mind when you had stepped into the darkness of the night, the soft light of the base adding to the mellow atmosphere your mind desperately needed. For a moment, you could almost forget there was a galactic war being fought. Or that a certain general has invaded every thought that had crossed your mind since you met.

    Your meeting with General Dameron had been…unorthodox…to say the least. There were several verified reports that a mole was in the First Order. Planning to defect soon after a year or so of secretly delivering information. They had sent names of lower-ranking associates in the First Order. The very associates whose holograms you have currently scattered on your desk. They had also sent locations and times of several battle ships that were successfully taken out by The Resistance fleet. After several thorough verification checks, General Organa personally sent you to meet with them to check their status and gather any additional intel. She gave you three pieces of information: a time, a location, and the phrase, “The sun is rather hot today, don’t you think?”

You flew by yourself to the designated planet and town, deeming it safe enough to be alone. You were told the mole would meet you at the marketplace which was strategically placed right outside the landing bay. “They’ll know who you are,” General Organa instructed. The marketplace was a perfect portrait of vibrant liveliness. Merchants calling out. The buzz of multiple people talking all at once and over each other. The sweet smell of food traveling through the air. Children were running around, playing, laughing — without a care in the galaxy. It was not long after you had stepped into the marketplace when merchants started calling for you to purchase their items.

“You there, young lady! How about a taste of the finest fruits in this system?!”

“Miss, I’ve never seen a beauty such as yourself! Come and do me the honor of trying on jewels that only you would be worthy of wearing!”

“Nuna legs! Get your deep fried nuna legs here!”

 You were absentmindedly perusing the marketplace, doing exactly as you were told. You often scanned the crowd for any signs of suspicious activity, but after an hour or so, you were starting to grow hungry. You made your way to the fruit stand, eyeing a couple particularly ripe jogans. After paying the merchant for one jogan, you heard the distinct sound of modulated voices.

“Everyone, show their identification now!”

Stormtroopers. Their party split up to search civilians, threatening those who could not produce their identification fast enough. One man stood in the middle, shielded by the soldiers that circled around him. You squinted your eyes at the figure clad in gray. He was slowly strolling through, scanning the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the upset his troopers were causing. Your eyes widened in realization at the infamous figure: General Poe Dameron. The man responsible for some of the most strategically successful invasions of the First Order. Although his face was known, very little was actually reported about the man’s history. While those in the First Order were quick to claim glory, General Dameron was infamous for maintaining a wall of silence. There were no reports of his origin. No reports of his time before the First Order. No reports of how he even got involved with them. Nothing. The man was a ghost. Until now.

You attempted to weave your way to the edge of the marketplace, trying to create an escape plan back to your ship. A keen stormtrooper halted you and grabbed you by the arm, demanding identification.

“Hey! Let go of me! Let go of me!” you pushed back against the soldier’s chest, but their grip only tightened. Stormtroopers stood at the ready, blasters pointed at you, ready to strike at their General’s orders. To your surprise, General Dameron ordered his troopers to stand down. With a subtle nod as a command, the stormtrooper cuffed your wrists together behind your back and placed a bag over your head. You were dragged, kicking and screaming, to an undisclosed location where you were kept in a dimly lit room, cuffed to an apparatus that kept your body upright, hands at your side, and ankles firmly against the metal surface. Your wrists were red and raw from struggling against the cuffs. Throat hoarse and parched from your loud pleas for help which everyone in the marketplace willfully ignored. There was only the faint sound of people talking in the distance. No unique distinctions anywhere in the room. Only one way out. Your head knocked back against the metal apparatus. There was no escaping this place.

Two stormtroopers and some captain entered the room, breaking the halfhearted lull your mind had gone into. The captain wasted no time interrogating you. Asking question after question, demanding to know your identity and affiliation.

“Are you Resistance?” You kept your head down, refusing to look these people in the eye. You felt the captain grab your jaw and forcefully tilted your head to meet his eyes. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” They yelled. You flinched at the spit that had flown out of their mouth from the sheer force of their voice. “Are you Resistance?!” You stayed silent.

Unfortunately, you found out the captain’s temper was quite short. After you met his repeated questions with silence, the captain struck your face. Hard. The slap had surprised you. You had not fully recovered before your face was knocked to the other side, harder and sharper. You felt something wet dripping down your cheek, mingling with the sweat beading on your face. The deep stinging brought tears to the backs of your eyes. You squeezed your eyes, careful not to contort your face too much and worsen the painful throbbing at your cheeks. The sound of the slaps were followed with a tense silence before one of the stormtrooper’s modulated voice broke through.

“Um…Captain…General Dameron gave specific instructions not to hurt her.”

“Shut up!” the captain hissed. “That coward won’t even come down here to do the dirty work himself.” Just then, the doors hissed open to reveal Dameron’s stoic face. He held his hands behind his back. His proud stance reflective of his high military rank. He slowly stepped into the room, the heavy thud of his boots increasing the tension in the air. You openly stared at him with furrowed brows and disdain clear on your face. He briefly took in your appearance, sweat dripping down both sides of your face. Your cheek was split open and dripping blood. Chest heaving up and down from the surprise strikes. General Dameron turned to the captain who stood at attention, avoiding the higher-ranking officials’ gaze.

“You were saying, Captain?” Dameron’s voice was lower than you’d expected. Careful. Calm. Calculated.

“Nothing, General.” the captain replied, still avoiding Dameron’s gaze.

“I believe I gave specific orders for her not to be harmed.” Dameron glanced at the two troopers who remained unmoving against the wall. His expression remained stoic, unchanged, as if this whole situation bored him. His steely gaze made its way back to the captain who stuttered out a response.

“She…uh..sh-she wasn’t complying, Sir…General… I th-thought…”

“That’s enough. Everyone. Out.” The curt command sent the captain and the two soldiers scurrying out. The doors hissed closed, and Dameron looked at your form. You stared at him, jaw clenched, determination evident. His measured steps made their way toward you, the light shining above you illuminating his face, his chiseled features becoming more prominent. You couldn’t help but to look at him in hidden awe. Most military men kept their faces clean of any facial hair, but this man did not. His beard was trimmed yet…bushy. Strands of gray peppered throughout revealed his older age. This coupled with his stern, expressionless demeanor added to the ominous aura he carried with him. The closer he got to you, the more you pressed your body against the hard surface you were cuffed against, trying to create some distance between the two of you. He studied your face, and in return, you did the same with him.

The space between his brows were furrowed. His forehead and temples had faint lines from where they undoubtedly often creased. His high cheekbones being hit by the light cast a shadow on the rest of his face. Although hidden by his beard, the outline of his jaw still stood out. He was…traditionally…handsome, you admitted begrudgingly. Your trance was broken when something softly touched your split-open cheek. Your head instinctively jerked away at the offending intrusion. He comforted you in return.

“Ssshhhh, it’s ok. It’s ok. I won’t hurt you.”

“That’s rich coming from the very reason I’m chained, General Dameron,” you scoffed. He paused at your response.

“So you know who I am?”

“The soldier said your name. Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to know who you are and what you’ve done.” you gritted through clenched teeth, lacing venom into your words. He merely blinked at you before continuing to clean up your cheek.

“Couldn’t have them getting suspicious.” Dameron muttered, dabbing at the blood with a black handkerchief.

“What the hell are you on about?” you growled at him, flexing against your restraints.

“It was too dangerous to meet you alone.” He caressed the side of your face. You yanked your head away from the warmth of his hand. He sighed and pocketed his handkerchief but made no movements to distance himself, staying mere inches away from you. “I’m sorry you were hurt, but this was the only way.”

“Only way to…what?” He can’t be. No, there was absolutely no way he was…

“The sun is rather hot today, don’t you think?” Dameron whispered.

“Bullshit,” you spat.

“Then, clever girl, how did I know where you would be? How did I know you were Resistance?”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” He considered your question. One-by-one, he started listing off names. The names of the lower-rank associates that were given to The Resistance in an effort to prove his validity. He also listed the battleships that had been attacked by The Resistance based on the tips he apparently gave. Despite the accurate information he gave you, you remained doubtful. “I still don’t believe you. I am chained up at Maker-knows-where with a First Order general. You have given me no reason to trust you.”

He sighed. “I can’t leave with you now. There’s still some loose ends that need tying. When I can leave, I will send you a time and a location. This is encrypted. It can’t be tracked.” You felt something placed in your jacket. He took one last look at you. Studying your face. He reached out and tilted your chin with his gloved fingers, locking his warm eyes with yours. “You know, my dear,…it’d be a shame…if the power went out in the next ten minutes. Your cuffs would be released, and you would be able to walk out this door. To your left, there would be an empty hallway that would be temporarily unguarded, giving you the perfect chance to escape. The marketplace is northeast of here.” He leaned in closer.

“It really would be a shame.”

His fingers traced the split skin on your cheek before clasping his hands behind his back. Dameron turned around and marched toward the doors. He paused before the doors opened. “I hope to see you again very soon.” You remained frozen, processing all the information he had given you. Your daze was broken by the room being flooded with darkness. The cuffs clinked open, and you unceremoniously fell to the ground with a thud. You quickly scrambled up, took a deep breath, and decided…you don’t really have much of a choice but to trust what he said. Either you stay here and possibly be tortured or killed or you try and escape during this very opportune time. You cautiously walked through the doors, looking left and right for any sign of the First Order. The hallways were deserted. You scuffled to the left and quickly searched for any door leading outside. After turning various unmarked hallways, you finally found a door that was unfortunately locked. Your blaster was taken from you therefore shooting your way out was not an option. You looked around for anything to break the keypad. On the right ceiling corner, you found a camera pointed in your direction. You stood frozen again, thinking your luck had run out. Then, the door opened, letting you out. You ran out to the marketplace, blending in with the bustle of locals shopping. When you deemed the coast clear, you  headed back to your ship. You flew to a nearby planet to lay low for a day or two to make sure you weren’t being tracked. You can never be too careful, especially when dealing with the First Order. After making sure there was no one on your trail, you returned home to the base on D’Qar.

You reported everything to General Organa: the mole’s identity, his plans on defecting, and his help in your escape. She immediately assigned you to track the General’s whereabouts, making sure The Resistance knew his every move. The task had proved to be daunting, for the man rarely made his presence known until it was too late. This was a smart move on his part. Deeply infuriating for you, but smart for him. This is why you sat here presently, exhausted from following the handsome general’s every move with little to no information. Chilled air and the quiet surroundings were doing wonders for your tightly-wound body. Fatigue was finally settling in. You looked down at your hand. You were clutching what General Dameron had placed into your pocket. A comlink and a scribbled note that read:

“Soon. -P”

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. You got up from your position and was headed to your quarters for much needed sleep when a familiar high beep started coming from your hand. The comlink. First beep. Is he planning to defect now? Second beep. How could you be sure that it was actually him calling? Third beep. What if he could track you with this call? Fourth beep. You took a deep breath before answering the call.

“Hello?”

A familiar smooth voice answered.

“Taris, lower city in two days. I’ll call you with more information when the time comes.” Your breath hitched at the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you soon, clever girl.”

_____________________________________________

Part 2 + Masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I wanted to explore what would happen if Poe started out in the First Order. Let me know if you have any comments or want to be added to any of my taglists (General, Kilig Series, Trust in Me Series, or specific fandoms)!

Not staring at Mando proved to be a difficult feat, given the fact the tall, beskar-clad figure was a walking, (seldom) talking mirror of a man that reflected the bright orange flames back at you. The Child started to take particular interest in the bugs crawling around the dirt. He was waddling away, paying no mind to the rest of the world, to pick at various crawling creatures and occasionally putting one in its mouth.

“Mando?” you called out exasperatedly, fishing a black bug from The Child’s mouth and flicking it into the nearby bushes. “We need to cook something for the kid. I’m pretty sure he’s hungry.”

“Hmmm. Oh-uh…yeah let me just set up…everything.” You turned around in confusion at his delayed response. 

“You ok?” You called out in question only to be met with the sight of his coat slightly billowing as he walked into the Razor Crest. The Child’s attention was now focused on the sizeable fire crackling away, his small head tilting left and right, up and down at the small, blazing embers flying up in the air. You settled on one of the metal cases Mando set by the fire, rubbing your arms while watching The Child — taking the occasional peripheral glance at Mando sorting through the various boxes he was…cleaning? Sorting? Organizing?   You haven’t confirmed with him, but Mando went through his things more lately. The clinking and chimes of metal against metal served as a soothing song while his movements became near-automatic. There were times you simply observed him while he was in this trance, and it would only be broken by the sound of you calling out his name. Mando came out and placed a makeshift grill made out of old scrap metal and a pot with a spoon over the fire. He placed a bag of food at your feet and gently nudged The Child away from the fire with his boot, making you snort at his actions.

“Thank you,” you chimed, looking up at his helmet. Mando replied with a nod, walking away without a word. You shook your head with a small smile at Mando’s non-verbal reply. Before opening up the burlap bag, you unsheathed a small knife from your belt and ran the blade over the fire. You set to work making dinner — boiling meat, vegetables, and spices in the cast iron pot you had previously begged Mando to change. There were now three of you eating! He claimed the thought of changing the pot never crossed his mind until you asked for it, but he showed up with a new pot that night nonetheless. Rather than the still silence you had become accustomed to when camping, the clanging and thuds of Mando’s weapons cases would occasionally ring out. The Child, on the other hand, was attempting to covertly eat the food left in the bag, his tiny body half-submerged in burlap, cooing at all he could find.

Before The Child could eat himself full from the rest of the food, you wrapped your hand around his middle and placed him on your lap where he promptly started crying out. You shook your leg rhythmically, shushing what you hoped was a comforting tune. The Child was precariously balanced on your leg as you attempted to ladle soup into a small bowl. The small crunches of dirt under Mando’s boots came closer and closer as he made his way to the two of you. Mando sat down next to you with a soft grunt, his armor clinking against the metal case acting as a bench. The Child immediately began gesturing for Mando to pick him up clenching and unclenching his little fists to signal to his father, who merely stared at him in return.

“Mando, can you please hold him while I feed him?” you asked, pushing your knee out to bump against his. Mando sighed at the kid’s wide eyes looking up at him. You fell prey to the kid’s big eyes way more than Mando did, and almost instantly, but you inwardly smiled at thought of Mando slowly developing a weakness for the kid’s wide eyes. Mando wrapped his hands around The Child who was attempting to crawl from your leg to his. You scooted closer to Mando, building a bridge for The Child by flushing the side of your body against his, noting the warmth radiating from him despite being donned in beskar. The Child unceremoniously plopped down onto Mando’s leg. Delighted coos emanated from him as Mando bobbed his leg up and down to stop his crying. You rolled your eyes at The Child and mumbled, “I knew he had a favorite.”

Mando heard your words and chuckled. So soft that if you weren’t right next to him, you would’ve missed it. The small sound was enough to have you grinning in victory, suppressing a small squeal from escaping your lips. This was the first time you ever made him laugh. You weren’t sure if he was even able to laugh if you were being completely honest. Well, now you know.

Faint streams of steam traveled from the small bowl you held in your hand. You held the bowl close to The Child, blowing on the spoon before he took a sip. The Child sat with the soup in his mouth for a second before opening his mouth and letting the soup drip out of his mouth and onto Mando’s legs. His big dark eyes clenched shut, and his cries rang out. Mando immediately lifted The Child off his leg and held him at a distance as drops of soup seeped through his trousers.

“Shhhh. Shhh. Sh. Sh. Sh. It’s okay,” you set down the bowl by your side and took the kid from Mando’s hands. “It’s okay. Here, have another sip.” As soon as you brought the spoon close to The Child’s mouth, he began crying and turning his head away from the soup. You furrowed your brows at the kid, sniffing the soup before taking a sip yourself. Okay, you thought. You got why the kid was crying. “This tastes horrible,” you remarked to Mando. He laughed again. The sound of his laughter was...nice. One to revel in. On any other occasion, you would’ve perked up in pride at making the usually stoic Mandalorian laugh.  However, he was laughing a little too hard in your opinion.

“I thought you knew how to cook,” Mando mused, his helmet tilting in your direction.

“I do!” You exclaimed. “I don’t know what happened, but this is so bland.” The Child was sniffling and occasionally hiccuping at this point, his big eyes staring at you accusingly for that mistake of a meal. Mando cleared his throat, bringing your attention to him.

“I can…I can fix it. If you want.” Mando suggested.

“….I didn’t know you cooked,” you narrowed your eyes at him. All this time, you have always cooked for the three of you. Now, he is revealing this very convenient secret.

“Well we were all taught how to cook at the covert. You always got to cooking before I did though.”

You nodded in response. “Uh huh. Yeah suuuuurree,” you gestured to the pot still sitting on the grill. “Be my guest.”

“There’s one thing though. I…uh…I gotta be able to taste the soup.”

“Ok?” You furrowed your brows. His helmet stared at you pointedly. What is he…

“Ohhhhh, yeah. Got it. Going!” You scooped up The Child and walked into the Razor Crest, criss-crossing on the floor and playing with him while the two of you waited. After what seemed like a millenium, The Child was growing upset at playing the 900th game of peek-a-boo. Your stomach was starting to grumble at the delicious, savory smell coming from outside. The Child took notice too. His large ears perking up at the inviting smell permeating the air. Mando finally appeared at the bottom of the ramp, staring at you and The Child. Both your chins were lifted up — taking small, deep sniffs of the air around you and not noticing he had even appeared until he cleared his throat.

“Come on. Food’s ready.” His helmet nodded toward the direction of the fire. Both you and The Child scrambled up. You took the kid in your arms, walked out of the ship, and over to the fire, growing even more hungry as the mouthwatering scent became stronger and stronger. There was already a steaming bowl waiting for you. You sat down on the case and held The Child on your leg, taking the first sip from the bowl.

“Mmmmm…yup. Oh wow,” you moaned at the taste of the delicious soup Mando had significantly improved. “This is way better than what I made. I could kiss you right now. This is so good.” You scooped up another spoonful for The Child, blowing on it before letting him sip. The Child’s ears perked up then relaxed, cooing at the much better flavors and grasping on to the spoon with his three fingers, licking the remnants of the soup. Mando muttered a thanks and took his seat next to you, and you secretly celebrated the fact he chose to be pressed up against you like before. Leaning into his warmth, you rested your head on his shoulder and squeezed his knee. Your eyes gazed into the dark line on his helmet where his eyes should be, watching the flames dance in the reflection of his visor. “So what was wrong with it?” you asked. 

“Not enough spices, and you have to boil the meat longer,” Mando offered, gaze remaining on the fire ahead. 

“Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome,” he replied. The two of you stayed like this for a moment. Your hand on his knee. Head resting on his beskar pauldron. The contrast of the warmth from his leg and the coolness of the beskar on your cheek provided a sense of comfort only he could provide. Mando didn’t move a muscle, acting as a strong pillar for you to lean on. Your daze was broken by The Child shaking the spoon up and down, demanding more food. Hesitantly, you lifted your head off Mando and turned your attention to the kid, who was looking up at both of you, blinking his large eyes and tilting his head.

“You want more, Mini Mando?” you asked The Child, your voice taking on a higher pitch and a  more melodious tone. The Child perked up at your baby voice and engine noises, cooing and giggling at the spoon (turned pretend ship) making its flight path to his mouth.

“Mini Mando?” Mando questioned amusedly.

“What? I had to call him something else other than kid,” you shrugged, ignoring the heat making its way up your neck.

“Here. Let me hold him.” You raised your arms to make way for Mando to scoop up The Child and settle him onto his leg, bouncing up and down a few times, much to the kid’s delight. You held the bowl out for Mando and placed the spoon in his hand. Omitting the engine noises you were making, Mando quietly fed The Child while you cooed at the kid. The bowl was only halfway empty when the kid started to move his head away and pushing the spoon further from his mouth. Mando and you watched The Child blink up at the two of you before he looked ahead, silently staring out into the clearing — at nothing, before his tiny body emitted a burp that shook his entire being. Mando’s and your laughter rang out in harmony as The Child’s ears perked up at the glee he caused. 

Your arm looped around his, fully leaning into his body and resting your head on Mando’s shoulder. You expected Mando to stiffen, acting as a pillar like before. Instead, you felt the smooth side of his helmet rest against your head in return. The moment was brief. Fleeting. All too quick. But it was enough to warm your entire body up in a comfort so blissful that you dared not move away from the warmth of his body. You squeezed his arm in return, feeling the tight ropes of muscles hidden underneath his shirt, before sipping from the bowl yourself.

“You should stay more often,” you remarked. You felt the shift of Mando’s helmet toward you. You glanced up to meet the stare of his visor and shrugged. “You should. Mini Mando misses you when you’re gone.” You turned to the kid, currently fighting a losing battle between him and sleep. Mando’s stare remained on you for a few more moments, the heavy weight of his gaze slowly burning up your neck and cheeks as you pointedly observed The Child. He turned to look at the kid, moving him further up his leg so that he can rest against Mando’s stomach. You hesitated…the nagging feeling in your chest starting to prickle and taunt you before blurting out. “And I miss you too.”

Mando sat still, gently stroking The Child’s arm as he cradled him against his body. A feeling of heavy dread started to replace the previous nagging feeling, embarrassed at your outburst. You swallowed the knot forming at the base of your throat and began to pull your arm away from his, only for him to gently tug you back. You glanced at him, previous dread starting to trickle out from the pores of your body — a tender elation seeping in to replace it, settling at the center of your chest. Feeling emboldened at him not turning you away, you raised his arm and tucked yourself under, letting his gloved hand rest on your hip. Mando glanced at you for a moment, but you refused to meet his eyes in fear of losing the nerve you had built up. The pad of his thumb moved slightly — his ghost of a touch enough to leave a trail of heat on your skin. You observed the now-smaller fire, still crackling away and sending ribbons of smoke and embers up into the night air. A sigh of relief held in your chest escaped past your lips, and you sat in Mando’s half embrace, willing your heart to stop pounding so loudly. You leaned your head against his shoulder and part of your body against his chest, trying to take in more of the warmth he provided. Mando’s hand squeezed your arm in response, slightly pushing you closer to him. He began rubbing your arm up and down absentmindedly, still keeping his gaze on the fire but igniting in your body the irresistible feeling of blissful comfort from before. Soft snores started coming from The Child, having lost the battle to sleep.

Yes. Mando should stay more often.

_______________________________________________

Part 1 + Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @redhouseclan on Ao3 for their request because I was a little stuck on this chapter, but here we are, 1k+ words more than what I initally planned. 

General taglist: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta @panda-angela​ (special thanks to you for reminding me I had yet to update this series)

Surprisingly, Steve took the last-minute plans in stride despite your very frantic announcement, with you aggressively cornering Steve after a briefing and rambling at 100 miles an hour about a party at Tita Maria’s house. He was already dressed by the time you had to leave. You, on the other hand, decided to stay and workout in the gym instead before going home, trying desperately to rid your body of anxiety.

“Doll, we’re gonna be late. We still have to head home before going to your folks’ place.”

The squeak of the shower being turned off made Steve quietly sigh in relief. You appeared in front of him, wrapped in a towel, and dripping water all over the floor.

“First off, being late is fine. It’d actually be pretty weird if we showed up on time,” you explained, opening your locker and sorting through your clean clothes. “Second, I hate going to these things. They’re gonna love you. You’re their ideal man, but I am never going to hear the end of it! ‘Did you gain weight?’ ‘Did you get darker?’ ‘So when are you getting married?’ UGH! I hate these things,” you were visibly seething by the end of your rant. You plopped down on to the bench next to Steve who brought your head closer to place a kiss on your temple.

“Well I hope I’m your ideal man too, doll,” Steve mused.

“Of course you are. I just don’t like coming around there,” you pouted at Steve, placing your hand on his thigh.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Steve offered. You couldn’t help but scoff at Steve’s naiveté. He’ll never know the level of mind games these parties require, and the very thought of going wound your muscles as tight as a vice.

“Babe, you have no idea how Filipino families can be. It’s Game of Thrones but with brown people and better food,” you quipped. Your hand massaged the sizable knot forming on your shoulder. Steve took notice and gently pushed your hand away, massaging the knot himself while you closed your eyes and leaned against him. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, doll,” Steve comforted. Damn it. This man was too perfect to be true. You had been bugging him all day about how you were dreading seeing your relatives, and yet here he was, patient and perfect, as ever. You kissed his cheek in response.

“Steve…” You trailed kisses from his cheek to his perfectly-cut jawline to his neck.

“Uh…ye-yes, doll?” Steve croaked out, his eyes closing at the feeling of you placing open-mouthed kisses on his neck.

“Can you help me calm down?”

“Ye-yeah what do you…mmmgghh,” Steve groaned mid-question as your hand made its way onto his groin, massaging his dick through his jeans. His head knocked back in pleasure — a low growl emanating from his throat. You whimpered at Steve’s hand stopping you from feeling him. “We’re going to be late. Anyone could walk in right now.”  Your hand continued grinding against Steve’s growing arousal. You nipped at his earlobe before whispering into his ear.

“Makes this all the more…exciting, doesn’t it?”  As graceful as you could, you got up from the bench and stood in front of him. “Steve, trust me. We got time.” You dropped your towel, got on your knees, and caressed his thighs — glancing up at him through your eyelashes.

“You’re killing me, doll.” Smirking, your fingers made quick work of unbuttoning and sliding his jeans and underwear off of his muscular legs. You took his half-erect cock in your hands, pumping a few times before licking a hot stripe up the big vein on the underside. Steve took his shirt off. His hand gripped a fistful of your hair. His head knocked back, eyes closed in ecstasy at your actions, and a low groan rumbled from his chest. A couple drops of pre-cum dripped out of the tip of his cock. Your thumb circled around the tip, kissing and softly sucking. You started licking and sucking on his balls, hand still pumping his length, making more pre-cum drip out of his sensitive tip. Steve had his eyes locked on you, and yours on him. You licked up the large protruding vein before spitting on his cock and quickly taking his length in your mouth.

“…fuuckk,” Steve whispered. The power you felt from the sight of his head knocking back in pleasure and his whispered cursing was indescribable. His hands held your hair and guided you up and down his pulsing cock. His mouth was agape, in awe of the pleasure you were giving him. Your hand was pumping whatever you couldn’t take in your mouth. Your moans of pleasure would shoot the most delicious vibrations down his cock which would make Steve groan in response, gripping your hair tighter and whispering your name over and over again, pleading with you not to stop. The throbbing sensation in your pussy was becoming unbearable, and you used your free hand to rub circles around your swollen clit, quickly coating your hand in your own arousal.

Each small pang of pleasure from your own hand made you moan on Steve’s cock. Steve gently thrust his hips up and pushed your head down, urging you to take him deep into your throat. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you gladly obliged, letting his dick slide past the back of your throat. He moved your head up and down slightly, the salacious sounds of you sucking and choking on his big dick echoing in the empty locker room, making you wetter and Steve groan louder. He pulled you off his cock, breathing hard at the sight of you, mouth and chin dripping wet with pre-cum and spit. You traced some off your chin and licked your fingers, keeping your eyes firmly locked on him. Steve roughly grabbed your jaw and kissed you, wasting no time slipping his tongue in your mouth, tasting the remnants of himself.

“Get up,” Steve growled. As soon as you got off your knees, he pulled you on top of him, your knees resting on either side of his hips, his mouth placing open-mouthed kisses on the base of your neck. His arm was around your waist, keeping you pinned to him, while his hand groped and teased your breast. He trailed down to your other breast, switching between sucking, licking, nipping, tugging, and teasing. The way he switched between your breasts. The way he would lick and grope and nip and…God, this man was going to be the end of you. Your hand was tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t help but mirror Steve’s earlier actions and knock your head back at the sensation of his mouth on your tits. “Look at me.”

You stared into his eyes that were now seemingly dark in a lust-ridden haze. His large hands gripped your hips before pushing you down to grind on his hard cock. A loud moan escaped your throat, eyes closing at the delicious friction he provided. “No,” he grunted. “Keep your eyes on me. I wanna see your face as you grind on my cock.” His hand gripped your hair as your hips were grinding on him; his groans deep and guttural, stirring your arousal even more.

“Steve, I can’t-I can’t take it anymore. Please,” you pleaded with him, your hips moving faster against his cock.

“Please, what? Use your words, doll. Tell me what you want.” His fingers started circling your clit, heightening your pleasure and making you lose your breath. He dipped his fingers into your soaked cunt, coating his fingers in your arousal. He thrust his curved fingers in you a few times, softly stroking a spot that made you roll your eyes back in pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and licked them, never letting his gaze break from yours.

“Agh! Fu-fuck, Steve…I want your cock in me, please,” you pleaded with him. Steve lined his erection up to your pussy and slowly thrust inside, letting you adjust to his length. You moaned at the sinful, sensual stretch of your pussy as Steve’s cock bottomed out. You moved your hips up and down, slowly, before picking up the pace. Steve gripped his hands on your hips, watching you in awe, slightly helping you up and down as you rode him. Your fingers tightly wound into his hair and gripped his neck for support. He whispered sweet nothings to you, as you repeatedly slammed your hips down onto his, reveling in the pleasure and heat of the moment.

Steve’s patience ran out and eagerly took back control. He gripped your hips and roughly thrust into you at a fast-paced, almost brutally satisfying way. You couldn’t help the strangled cry that escaped your treat at the raw ecstasy overtaking every inch of your body. His fingers started circling your clit, tightening the coil of your pending orgasm. “Holy shit! Fuck Steve! I’m so close. So close. Steve. Steve. Steve please…ah…ah…fuck…oh mY GOD STEVE!” You collapsed on his chest, shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Steve’s arms circled around you, groaning at the feeling of your dripping pussy convulsing around his cock. He stroked your hair and rubbed your back as he waited for you to stop shaking, peppering your face with light kisses, whispering about how beautiful you look and how good you are doing. When your body had calmed down, Steve locked your lips into a passionate kiss. His lips moved against yours in a dance you knew all too well but could never get enough of. He pulled away and held your face in his hands. His thumbs caressing your cheeks, and your hands resting on his forearms. Steve took a moment to study you. Your pupils were dilated. Lips puffy. Your chest was still slightly heaving up and down, trying to calm down from your high. He placed a sweet peck on your lips and whispered

“You ok?” You bit your lip and nodded. There was no end to how perfect this man is. And he was yours. Steve Rogers was yours. He pulled you flush against him in an embrace. His deep, lust-ridden voice muttered into your ear. “My turn.”

To your surprise, Steve got up, keeping your body against his and slammed you against the lockers, being careful not to hurt you. You broke out into a fit of giggles before getting the breath knocked out of you from being pushed against the lockers. Steve adjusted your legs so that they encircled his hips, locking him in a vice grip. Steve groaned before thrusting his hips into yours at a rapid pace, gripping your hips. His hot breath fanning all over you as you clung onto him, lost in how fucking hot Steve was making you feel. Once again, you felt the tightening coil of your pending orgasm. “Steve, baby please. I’m so cl-close. Agh…agh…fuck!” Your breath was coming in short pants. Your nails dug into his shoulders. You screamed. Unfettered. Loud. Raw. You felt your orgasm wash over you in sweet, suffocatingly satisfying relief. Steve’s thrusts started losing their rhythm as your cunt convulsed around him. His breaths coming in hot, short pants now as well. He slammed his hips into yours, bottoming out, before pushing you against the lockers, making a loud slam that reverberated in the empty locker room. The intensity of his orgasm led to strangled, low groans by your ear, and his closed fist banged against the locker — the combined sounds making you moan. You felt his cum start to drip out of your pussy and onto your inner thighs. He thrust his cock in you a couple more times, bottoming out each time, before pulling out and setting your feet down on the ground.

You clung onto Steve for support, not trusting the strength of your legs. Steve picked up the towel you had dropped earlier and wiped you down, making sure to be gentle around your sensitive nub. “Ever the gentleman,” you quipped, grinning. Steve smirked at your smart comment, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Ready to go now, doll?” Steve asked.

“Yes, I am,” you smiled. “But first, we have to shower.” 

______________________________________ 

Masterlist

Requested by: @svetlana-beilschmidt​

A/N: Let me know what you think and/or if you want to be added to my taglist! 

“The scissors! Why are they never where they’re supposed to be?!”

“Oh sorry. I used it earlier,” he apologized. Bucky grabbed the scissors out of the drying rack by the sink and handed them to you, sharp point pointed towards him.

“Oh great! Thanks Bucky!” You shuffled back to the living room and got to work opening your packages and sorting out the contents. Opening the boxes was like Christmas come early for you! Except you had paid for all your presents. With your own money. But still. You heard Bucky settle onto the couch behind you, observing your glee over sorting out the colorful products into ten neat piles on the coffee table.

“Did you buy out an entire store? What is all this?” Bucky grabbed a colorful foil package off the coffee table and read its label.

“These, my dear Bucky, are my Korean skincare products. ” You turned your torso to face him. His brows were furrowed trying to make sense of the ingredients list, wondering why snail mucin was an essential ingredient. “I ran out of a bunch of my skincare stuff, and it took a while for the packages to arrive.”

“…there’s like 30 things here.”

“Yeah isn’t it exciting?!” You clapped your hands and took the mask out of his hands, placing it in its designated pile.

“I guess,” he answered. I turned back around to see his face still ridden with confusion at the amount of skincare products sitting on the table.

“Bucky, what do you use to wash your face?” you asked.

“I don’t know. Soap. Water.” You scanned his face for any signs of blemishes, but his skin looked impossibly perfect. No signs of acne. No dark spots. No redness. The bastard.

“Typical,” you rolled your eyes. “Men do so little and yet their skin stays perfect, but god forbid I eat cake or else my skin loses its shit” you muttered. Bucky chuckled from behind at your annoyance.

“I bet you look perfect without all this, doll.” Bucky remarked, trying to ease your frustration. Your cheeks heated up slightly from the casual compliment. You sorted out the last of the products before turning to face him again.

“It’s not about looking perfect, Bucky. It’s about self-care. I find ‘all this’ relaxing.” Bucky’s brows furrowed at your words. His eyes went distant — in thought — his gaze thoughtful while staring at the masks. You chose to break the silence after a few moments. “What do you do for self-care, Bucky?”

His mind snapped back to present time with a slight jolt at the sound of his name. He thought about your question for a few seconds before answering, “Boxing. Sparring. Running.”

“That works. Anything that doesn’t involve sweating?” you jokingly asked, trying to lighten Bucky’s brooding mood. He tended to let his mind wander off nowadays, shutting himself down from every thing and every one around him. After years of being surrounded by people who did not have his best interests at heart, Bucky was still adjusting to domestic life filled with people who cared about him. You noticed improvement whenever he was around Sam, Bucky, or Nat. On the other hand, it was taking a while for him to warm up to you and the rest of the team. You have been persistent, however, almost annoying so. You wanted nothing more than for the war-wearied soldier to finally feel comfortable.

Bucky shook his head at your question. “Really? Oh my gosh we have to change that.” You got up and dusted off imaginary dust off your shorts. You watched his confused expression as you held out a hand for him to take.

“What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“You are going to learn about the beautiful world of the ten-step Korean skincare. I promise it’s relaxing. If you don’t like it, we never have to do it again. If you do, well, that means I have a new skincare buddy. Come on.” You shook your hand again, indicating for him to take it. Bucky glanced at your outstretched hand before peering at your eyes. “Trust me.” You whispered softly. He took your hand and rose from the sofa. Your neck craned upward to be able to fully take in his towering figure.

“Alright let’s do this.” You beamed.

Step 1

“The first step is oil cleansing. This gets a bunch of the oils, dirt, and grime off your face. Take a little bit of this balm.” You placed a small amount of the white balm onto his fingertips. You placed the same amount on your fingertips before turning to face the bathroom mirror, watching Bucky in the reflection. The scene in front of you was one to behold. The pair of you were wearing matching cloth headbands to keep the hair out of your face, towels draped around your neck at the ready. At your insistence, Bucky had also tied his hair back in a half-up ponytail. “Now put the balm on your face and rub it all around. Rub it on your neck too.”

You demonstrated the action to Bucky, rubbing the balm onto your cheeks before moving the balm-turned-oil all around your face. Bucky watched you first before slowly doing the same. “How long do we do this for?” Bucky asked, his face contorting as he moved his fingers all around, massaging the oil into his pores.

“Oil cleansing is around a minute.”

“What’s this black stuff?” Bucky looked at his fingers that had a few black rolls on them.

“Oh that’s blackheads! That means you’re doing this very well.” You smiled and continued to massage your face. A hint of a grin made its way onto his lips before he also continued.

Step 2

“Next is water-based cleanser. Take some of this face wash, and lather it onto your face and neck for a minute.”

“This is already taking so long, Y/N. How can you do this every night?”

“I don’t, but we are doing all of it tonight because I want you to take care of yourself. Now lather.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky jokingly saluted.

Step 3

“It’s time for exfoliating! Hold out your fingertips.” You took out a small bottle filled with a chemical exfoliant. Bucky held out his right hand toward you, fingers outstretched. You held his fingers together and dripped the dark crimson liquid onto them. “Now spread this all around your face. Avoid your eyes.”

“This looks like blood, doll.”

“It’s not. Come on!” Bucky lightly groaned at you before spreading the red liquid onto his face and neck. He and you locked eyes through the mirror’s reflection. You grinned at his and your red faces. “Ok ten minutes on the clock.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “Ten minutes?!”

Step 4, 5, and 6

“Toner, essence, and serum. Take this cotton pad, and squirt some toner onto there. Wipe your whole face.” Bucky followed your instructions, taking special care to avoid his eye area like you have repeatedly advised. You noticed his actions were more careful and calculated when cleansing his face with the toner. Initially, he massaged the cleansing balm onto his face similar to a child smearing paint on walls. As he relaxed into your occasional nighttime routine, you noticed his shoulders relaxing and his genuine interest growing. Small talk flowed freely between the two of you as time went on. He would smile whenever his words elicited laughs out of you, and a warm feeling in your chest would grow in response.

“Alright,” you tossed out your cotton pad. You opened a jar filled with white powder and took a small scoop out. You took Bucky’s hand into yours and placed the powder in the middle of his cupped palm. You took the bottle of essence and shook out a few drops onto the small pile of powder. You took some powder and essence into your palm as well before facing him. “This is vitamin c powder. You mix it in with the essence, and then…” You mixed the powder and liquid together and carefully spread the mixture on to your face. “You tap tap tap it into your face, neck, décolletage, and the back of your hand.” You lightly tapped the essence mixture into your skin, gazing at Bucky through the mirror in the meantime.

He followed your hands’ movements, and your eyes remained on his reflection. You noticed how his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when your tapping hands made its way down your chest. “Bucky, you listening?” you teased. He snapped out of his trance and glanced up to meet your eyes. You raised your eyebrow and smirked knowingly. Bucky cleared his throat before tapping the mixture onto his skin. The warmth from your chest traveled up your neck, heating up at the growing tension between you two. Your eyes followed his movements, mesmerized by the curves and contours of his face and his collarbone peeking out from his Henley. The fluorescent bathroom lights cast dark shadows on his face when he looked up to tap the mixture onto his neck, the dark contours emphasizing the sharpness of his features. There was a nagging temptation to trace the contours of his face with your fingertips.

“Y/N.” You snapped out of your gaze to find Bucky’s hand waving in front of your face. He was grinning at you.

“Sorry. Got lost for a minute. Um…right…serum!”

Step 7

“Pick a mask already!” Bucky was sorting through the various foil packages, reading through the claimed benefits aloud, and taking his sweet time doing so.

“You said I have redness around my nose and dry skin, but I don’t even know what half of these things do.”

“Bucky, choose the aloe one.”

“Does it work for that?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t know?”

“Come on! This step takes 30 minutes.”

“30 minutes?!”

“Beauty takes time, Bucky!” He picked out the aloe mask and carefully peeled and unfolded the saturated mask. I did the same to mine, and we looked upward before placing the masks onto our faces. We turned around and took in each other’s appearances. Our faces were completely covered but the sheet mask, other than our eyes and mouth. A silence settled into the air before we burst out laughing. However, our faces’ movements were limited by the sheet masks, so our mouths were laughing, but the rest of our face couldn’t contort in response to the laughter for fear of displacing the mask. Our laughter slowly died down into giggles and chuckles. “Come on. Let’s go start a movie.” I took his hand and dragged him back to the living room.

Steps 8, 9, and 10 (…but not really)

The rest of the Avengers trickled into headquarters one-by-one, all of them being met with the image of Bucky and you watching a movie while wearing sheet masks. They quietly gathered in the kitchen, observing the two of you banter and laugh over exchanged stories, not paying attention to the growing group. You sat with your feet tucked under you, torso faced toward Bucky. Bucky, meanwhile, had his metal arm draped around the back of the couch, facing you. A small smile graced his lips, amused at your stories and appearance. The movie played in the background, forgotten, merely providing background noise.

The last ones to join the group were Steve and Tony. They looked around before finding the Avengers in the kitchen, quietly focusing on the couple in front of them. Steve and Tony sauntered over to the kitchen. Tony was about to speak when Natasha put a finger to her lip, shushing him, before cocking her head towards your direction. Tony and Steve turned to watch Bucky and you, still wrapped up in your own little world. Tony was the first to speak.

“So we having a little spa day?” Tony asked, walking over to the living room.

“Tony!” Your head turned to find the Avengers staring at you from the kitchen. “Join us!” Everyone slowly made their way to the living room, taking note of the neat piles of skincare products on the coffee table. “Anyone up for a face mask?” You heard the familiar rip of foil packaging from Tony, who took the liberty of opening up one of the face masks and placing it on his face. He sank down into the couch, face turned upward to prevent the mask from falling off his face. He let out a loud sigh of relief and allowed his body to slump in relaxation.

“Ohhhhh yeah. That’s the stuff.”

______________________________________

     La máquina de escribir. 

     Las plumas. 

     El periódico.

     Los papeles. 

     El teléfono. 

     “Good morning!” Steve refreshed voice greeted. He and Javier strode their way to your conjoined desks, holding breakfast from the morning meeting you opted out of. Steve was holding an extra donut wrapper in a thin white paper. Javi was holding two steaming cups of coffee. “For you,” Steve offered the donut which you gladly accepted with a thank you.     

     Javi handed the second cup of coffee to you, “Tu café.” 

     “Gracias, Javi,” you lifted the cup in thanks. The three of you took a seat at your respective desks. You took a sip of the coffee Javi made. Two sugars and creamer, you thought. He remembered. You glanced up to meet his knowing eyes, and he gave you a sly grin before scanning the document in front of him. 

     “What’s with all this?” Steve asked, snatching the taped note on your telephone. 

     “Spanish lessons. Courtesy of Peña,” you answered through a mouthful of donut.  

     “How come you never offer to teach me Spanish, Javi?” Steve turned to his male partner accusingly. 

     “You’re not nearly as pretty as her, Murphy,” Javier answered, looking up from his paperwork. His words made you slightly choke on your donut. You took a sip of your coffee to wash down the clump that threaten to lodge itself into your throat. 

     “Oh I’m not enough for you?” Steve jokingly retorted, making you nearly spit out your coffee. You set down your coffee and opened your top drawer to look for the napkins you kept there. To your surprise, you found another note, this time folded, on top of your napkins. The note read, “Buenos días, querida.” You stuffed the note to the back of your drawer before pulling out a napkin and wiping your mouth of the sticky sugar leftover from the donut. Javier and Steve had stopped joking with each other, each occupied with their respective tasks. You locked eyes with Javi and raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on your face. Javi responded by winking at you, making you press your lips together, suppressing a grin from forming. The shrill ring from your phone broke your focus on Javi who returned his attention to his work. 

     “Meeting with the boss, boys,” you sighed as you hung up the phone. “Let’s go.” The simultaneous scrape of their chairs at your words started to burst the bubble of mirth from moments before, tugging you back to reality. Steve walked ahead of you and Javi, but Javi stayed behind, waiting for you to walk ahead of him. You thanked him with a nod of your head. His hand subtly rested on the small of your back as you passed him, burning an imprint on your skin and heightening your awareness of his presence. Did he buy a new shirt? You could’ve sworn he didn’t have this shirt before, but ever since you mentioned blue being one of your favorite colors, he seemed to add more blue in his rotation. Javi waited for you to enter the conference room first to which you replied, “Salamat.” 

     “De nada,’ Javi replied. This became a habit between the two of you as your relationship progressed. Javi would speak in Spanish, and you would respond in Tagalog. The two of you would then translate your sentences together, taking note of words you didn’t understand. You didn’t take notice of how often the two of you did this, until Steve once commented that he, out of all people, should definitely be the one learning Spanish. You had laughed at his comment that day, and Javi agreed to interpret for the two of you when out in the field. Still, this back-and-forth was special between the two of you. Something so endearing which stemmed from Javi seeking to comfort you from the pitfalls of an assignment abroad. Spanish and Tagalog lessons frequently happened over dinner. 

     Well, dinner was a loose term for it. In reality, it was one of you coming in to the other’s respective apartments across the hall. From there, the two of you would, eat, laugh, talk, drink…amongst other things. More often than not, the visitor would end up sleeping over, and they would have to sneak out of the apartment to return home, trying to avoid Steve or Connie. Like you said, this, whatever this is, was between the two of you. No one else. You’d never tell Javi this, but you did find a paper list in his apartment once. On it were Tagalog words you had taught him earlier, some spelled phonetically rather than correctly, although admittedly the spelling was close.

     Halik - Beso

     Maganda - Bonita, Hermosa

     Sinta - Querida 

     Pag-ibig - Amor 

     And then the four words that made your eyes widen. The four words that were emboldened by his repeated tracing over the letters as if carefully carving it into his memory for fear of forgetting. The four words that made a strong heat grow in your chest, creep up your neck, and settle in your cheeks. The four words rushed blood to your ears, amplifying the elevated beating of your heart. 

     Mahal kita - Te amo

     I love you. 

     He had asked how to say “I love you” after dinner some nights ago. The question was casual, and he had worked it into the conversation so skillfully that you hadn’t given it a second thought until you found his list. You mouthed the words carefully and repeatedly. Te amo. Te amo. Te amo. Te amo. Javi’s voice had called for you from the living room, and you quickly hid the list before going out to join him on the couch. 

     That was a week ago, and since finding that list, you had practiced the words over and over again in the mirror. Anticipation had settled into your bones. A weight had lifted itself off your shoulders, bringing a new spring to your step and a new outlook on life, even one as bleak and as challenging as the one you chose to lead. Plainly speaking, it didn’t take long for you to know. You loved him too. 

     The meeting droned on and on. The voices of the men around you soon warped into a garbled mess, undistinguished and tiresome. The tediousness of the meeting was made apparent by everyone springing out of the room, and your mind was still foggy until Javi’s voice broke your daze. “Dinner at my place?” Javi mumbled low enough for only you to hear. 

     “Sure, same time?” you whispered.

     “Yep,” he answered. The two of you walked back to your desks where Steve was talking to someone on the phone, scribbling something on a scrap of paper. He hung up and turned to you and Javi, scrunches his brows at how close the two of you were walking. Both of you took notice of his watchful eye and promptly parted, with you picking at random objects at your desk. 

     “Uh,” Steve cleared his throat before announcing, “That was Carrillo. He wants to meet with us for a debrief.” 

     “Okay,” you and Javi said simultaneously. This made the two of you glance at each other before looking at Steve, whose gaze flickered between the two of you. He sighed and shook his head before saying, 

     “I’ll drive.” You swatted Javi’s arm on the way out to Steve’s car to which he chuckled, clutching his arm in feigned pain. Carrillo was all business, as usual. He went down his methodical list of questions about any information the DEA had on Escobar to which the three of you provided. Carrillo had brought out a map marked with the latest rumored drop-off sites in nearby neighborhoods, all circled in bold, red ink. He handed Steve a marker to mark confirmed sites. Javi, ever the gentleman, offered you a glass of water when he noticed you fanning yourself with a manila folder. 

     “Agua?” Javi offered. 

     “Salamat. This is tubig,” you explained. 

     “What’s too big?” he asked confusedly. 

     You laughed at his misunderstanding. “No, water is called tubig.”

     “Ohhh, I got it,” Javi nodded in understanding. You continued giggling, and Javi smiled at your amusement. It wasn’t until you turned to meet Steve and Carrillo’s ever-observant stares that the two of you immediately dropped your amused expressions and put on your game faces, pointedly avoiding each other’s gaze as if scolded by your schoolteacher for being caught.  

     “I think we should go to this one here today,” Carrillo pointed out on the map. “See what people know.” 

     “I agree,” Steve said. “Let’s head out.” Carrillo gestured with his arm for you to go first, and you obliged, walking in pace with Steve. Then, you heard the loud, unmistakable sound of a smack, and you turned around to be met with the sight of Javi rubbing the back of his head and Carrillo’s smug smirk. The trip to the discussed barrio was a short one, and it was quite the spectacle with five squad cars and Steve’s car wedged into the middle of the squadron. The humid heat coupled with the fact people were being secretive and protecting Escobar  fanned the flames of your frustration. You understood why, but this made your job a whole lot harder. You were talking to an older woman sitting outside her home when you heard a thud on the roof behind you. A lower-ranking sicario made eye contact with you before darting the opposite direction. 

     “Suspect headed eastbound. In pursuit. Need backup. Over.” You sprinted toward the sicario’s direction, staying on the ground while a couple uniformed police officers chased him on the roofs. You cut through an alley to hopefully cut the sicario off. Turns out, Javi had the same idea because he turned the corner at the same time. Both of you nodded at each other, and Javi took the lead. Up ahead, you saw a man gesturing wildly to someone on the roof to come to the running car. You looked up in time to the sicario jump across roofs and shimmy down to the ground. Javi and you ran to the end of the alley, and Javi turned the corner to pursue the car. You’re not sure what came over you. Call it instinct. Or maybe sheer luck. You grasped Javi’s elbow and tugged him back with all your might to the cover of the alley and flush against your body. Gunshots rang out and whizzed past the two of you, pinging at nearby cars and windows. Javi hugged you close to him and acted as a human shield. Screeching of tires flooded your ears as the sicario’s car revved away from the barrio. 

     Javi pulled away and held your face in his hands, looking you over for any injuries. “Are you ok, querida? Did you get hurt?!” 

     “I’m ok. I’m ok,” You swallowed down the tight knot forming in the back of your throat and croaked out, “Are you?” Javi nodded before planting a kiss on your forehead and crushing you against him. You squeezed your arms around his torso reveling in the feeling of his body against yours. The two of you didn’t let go until you heard Carrillo’s voice through your walkie-talkie, asking for one of you to confirm your location. Javi reached for his talkie and confirmed both of you were safe and would be headed back. The two of you locked eyes with each other, chests heaving, and before you could move, Javi crushed you against his chest again, clutching a tuft of your hair and muttering Spanish under his breath. He was speaking too fast for you to even pick up a word, but you were happy to just hear the beat of his pounding heart. 

     “We should go,” you begrudgingly muttered. “Steve is gonna come looking for us.” Javi planted one last kiss on your forehead, and your eyes fluttered close at the feel of his soft lips against your skin. He’s here, you thought. He’s here, and he’s safe. The rest of the day passed by without much fanfare. Steve and Carrillo were met with nods when they asked if you and Javi were ok. You were the only one who was able to provide verbal details. Javi remained silent. After debriefing with Carrillo, the car ride back to work passed in silence. The end of the day came quickly enough, and it wasn’t until you shut your apartment door shut that the events of the day came rushing back to you. 

     You had almost lost Javier today. He was almost shot, and you almost lost him. There were no tears as you expected. No sobs wracking your body. Just a deep and heavy realization. You tossed your keys and purse on to the table and wrenched open the door only to be met with Javier — fist raised about to knock on your door. 

     “Fuck, Javi!” You clutched your heaving chest in surprise. “You scared the shit out of me!” 

     “Mahal kita!” Javi proclaimed. 

     “…what?!” 

     “Mahal kita. I was waiting until tonight to say it, but after today, I can’t wait. I could’ve died. I could’ve died and never told you and…

     “Te amo,” you cut in. “Te amo mucho.” Tears were now falling down your cheeks. Javier broke out in a big smile which you mirrored. He let out a breath he had been holding before taking your face in his hands and kissing you. The kiss easily deepened. Your mouths locked in a desperate dance to prove over and over again that this was real. You were here. He was here, and the two of you loved each other. Javi broke the kiss to pepper small kisses on your forehead, cheeks, chin, jaw, and neck — eliciting small giggles out of you. 

     “Hey guys…” Steve’s voice chimed in, making Javi and you jump away from each other. Steve and Connie were holding a case of beer and a tray of brownies, their wide-eyed stares focused on you and Javi. 

     “I knew it!” Connie exclaimed. She bumped her elbow against Steve’s arm. “I told you they were dating.” You broke out in a relieved laugh at Connie’s words, letting your shoulders drop. 

     Steve came and placed his arms around Javi and you and led all of you inside your open apartment. “You two have a lot of explaining to do.”

_______________________________________________

Translations that weren’t explained: 

El escritorio - the desk

La máquina de escribir - the typewriter

Las plumas - the pens

El periódico - the newspaper

Los papeles - the papers

El teléfono - the telephone

Buenos días, querida - Good morning, dear/desired one

Part 1 + Masterlist

A/N: Let me know what you think and/or if you would like to be added to my taglists!

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