#-for me 2 draw & its making me excited to get back to drawing full pieces when i can

[poniko-w]

look at my zombie adukin doodle

10000 gela for the first person who can get adukin to admit she has issues & go to therapy. or like any of the numas really

[no-not-without-you-blog]

Whumptember 29th: Losing Something

Prompt by @comfortcap Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Photo Edit by @nixakimbo

You sat down on the couch in your new apartment, exhausted from the full day of moving, but happy that most things were now in their place. Bucky was putting a few things away in the bedroom while you were about to order some takeout. Bucky walked down the hall and came to stand in the living room.

“Sweetheart, have you seen a wooden box? It’s like this big.” He held out his hands, motioning the size of the smaller box, smaller than a size of paper but quite a bit taller.

You shook your head. “No, sorry baby.”

He cursed under his breath, anxiously running his hands through his hair, and walked back down the hall quickly, seemingly more panicked at the loss of the box. “What’s in it baby, I can help look.”

“Nothing, just…just don’t worry about it. I’ll find it.” He closed the bedroom door and you heard him shuffling through boxes again. If it was bothering him that much, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a second set of eyes looking for it. You stood up and decided to go look in your office/studio space. You were a painter and childrens book illustrator. You had been able to get a 2 bedroom apartment and Bucky insisted that you needed your own studio space. You were excited to have the space. It had a large window with soft natural light.

You walked into the space and looked around for where it may be. You hadn’t unpacked much in here yet so you started to move some canvases and boxes of paints around. After about ten minutes of looking around, you just had the closet to go through. The first few boxes were just more art supplies but the box on the bottom was labeled for the bedroom and had been mistakenly placed in there. You pulled it out to the middle of the room and pulled the tape off. Sitting right there at the top of the box was the small wooden box he was looking for.

“Buck! I think I found it!” You yelled down the hall and heard him setting down what he was searching through. Curiosity took over and you pulled the box out and sat down on the floor. As you were opening the lid, Bucky walked in and saw that you were holding it. 

“Baby, wait!” But it was too late. You had already opened it enough to see what was in it. Inside was a stack of random scraps of paper, some bigger than others, but they all had something in common. Each one bore a doodle that you had made for him. There must have been over 100 of these small quick sketches. Right on top was one that you recognized. It had been the one that you had first drawn for him. You were both sitting on the subway and you were trying to get out of a drawing stump. Sitting right across from you was this gorgeous man who was engrossed in whatever book it was that he was reading. Inspiration struck and you quickly sketched him, his long hair tucked behind one ear, his face fully enraptured in his novel. You were terrified to do it, but when you had finished the drawing, you walked over to him and stood in front of him. As he looked up at you, you thought your heart was going to claw its way out of your chest. You offered him the drawing and he was so shocked and impressed with it, he asked you out for coffee as payment. The rest was history.

The fact that he had kept so many, if not all, of the little sketches that you had so casually drawn for him over the past year was enough to make most people fall to pieces. For those who wouldn’t have teared up for that, would have for the presence of the ring box right next to them. 

“I was going to wait till Christmas. I had a whole plan to put all the sketches in an album and give it to you. But honestly, I have had to stop myself from asking you every day since I bought the ring.”

You were crying at this point and he went to sit on the floor behind you, his arms wrapping around you. 

“If you want me to get down on one knee, I will. But we’ve never been real traditional. I will say this. That moment you handed me that first sketch was the best day of my life. I was having such a shitty day and all of the sudden there was this angel standing in front of me and she handed me this little drawing of myself. My whole world shifted in that moment and it’s never gone back.”

He pulled the ring box out of the larger box and held it in front of both of you. He audibly swallowed and opened it to reveal a simple but slightly vintage inspired ring. Your breath caught and you bit your lip. His words revealed that he was nervous and had started to choke up slightly.

“The truth is, I don’t want my world to shift back. Having you in my life has been the best thing I could ever ask for. And I didn’t even have to ask for it. You gave me your love willingly and without reservation. But I do have to ask you this now. You gave me your heart, but will you also give me your life? Will you give me your good days and your bad ones? Will you give me your midnight dance parties and your days filled with tears and heartache? Because I want it all, baby. I want to be here for the ups and the downs. I want to watch you grow old and I want to help you put your socks and shoes on when you can’t bend down anymore. I want to have babies with you and watch them grow up. 

So, I’ll ask you now. Will you give me your heart to hold onto forever? Because I don’t think I could give it up for any time shorter than forever.”

You were sobbing at this point. Not a cute, gentle cry, but full on ugly crying. You could barely get a word out as you nodded your head and choked out. He let out a breath of relief and kissed the side of your head. You spun around in his arms and wrapped your legs around him. Your hands went to both sides of his face and you kissed him fiercely. After a few moments he pulled away slightly, showing that you were both now crying. He pulled the ring out of the box and carefully placed it on your finger. 

“I love you.” He said to you as his fingers ran gently over your now adorned finger.

“I love you too. Always.”

Taglist:

@annasrefuge @chrisevansdaughter 

[karmawonders]

Ah shit, here we are again.

Istg I will get back to writing my usual content but I am on a doodling spree rn forgive me

Anyway

🌸Teaching Myself To draw cuz Fuck the AI Art Bros🌸 #2

From the last post, I received a sketch book as a gift outta the blue. /gotta love manifestation/ And ofc I used that to my full advantage.

For the first page, I decided to do a full body as a comparison of my progress.

As u can see, its not great, but not terrible. Instead of getting down to practicing individual bits and pieces, I decided to do another full body, taking in consideration the notes I wrote after finishing the first drawing.

And this time.....

It looks a hell of a lot better! I even kinda figured out toe placements on feet djdjs.

Comparing it to the first time I tried drawing a person, I can actually see the improvement!

Highkey proud ngl

Anyway. After that I tried practicing more dynamic poses.

While they aren't as clean as the one above, I do think I'm starting to get a grasp of Limb lengths? Not perfect ofc but I'm starting to get there.

You can see that I went on a whole rampage on hands, and I plan on practicing them more!

I did one more doodle page, this time theorizing on collarbones and I THINK I figured out the basic shape of a hand? I stared at mine for a good while and the one above looks pretty nice compared to the OG stick fingers.

/yes, I got distracted and decided to doodle a mermaid and an inkling from splattoon/ yes, i tried drawing ruffles and clothes and yes they are not great /

Overall I'm really proud of the progress I've made the past few days of looking at my art critically with the intent to improve instead of moping about. I'm actually kinda excited to see how this develops.

Dead ass during the night I was like "yo, if I keep practicing maybe I could make my own fanart AND fanfiction'

I dunno if any mortal should be able to wield that much power tho.

Anywell, I am gonna keep going at it and see where this leads.

[dumbfuck-mojave]

17 of that kiss prompt thing w randy 😧😧👹👹

SO TRUE OF YOU

Title: Number 17

Franchise: Scream

Pairing: Randy Meeks x Reader

Also Featured: Nobody but you two :^)

Warnings: Food, Swearing, Randy and the reader playfully tease each other.

A/N: It’s bullying Randy time again folks! I took a few weeks break, I’ll admit, but I’m getting back into things with a few shorter requested pieces taken from this prompt list, so expect a few coming your way ;). I’ll get back to my pre-planned stuff eventually. Everyone thank B for the great choice ISTG.

Word Count: 787

@bambitheghostfaceapologist @f1nalboys @highonbandcandy get nae nae’d

“I’ve been channel surfing for the past 20 minutes, how is there nothing good on?”

Randy and you were snuggled up on the couch, attempting to pass time until the clock hit 12 to signify the new year. While you were content watching the running program for the event, Randy had quickly gotten fed up with the wait and had only held out 30 minutes before suggesting, or more pleading, to find something different on the TV. Being the generous partner you are, and not really caring either way, you had agreed and had spent the last couple hours enjoying whatever was playing on Nick at Nite, comfortably situated against your man. 

“Babe. There’s only like 10, 15 minutes until the ball drops? Just change it back,” You leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek,” Promise it won’t kill you.” 

Randy sniggered, “No, someone’s already tried to do that.” 

You gasped and shot up to glare at him, “Stop that.” 

Randy was full blown laughing now, wheezes of breath coming at as he barely tried to hide it, “Sorry, sorry, it’s my coping mechanism.” 

His face went completely blank for a moment as he made eye contact with you, “You can at least laugh with me, I didn’t get shot for nothing.” 

A surprised bark of sound escaped you as Randy started up again, which caused you to develop into a fit of laughter as well. 

“Ok, ok.” You huffed as you stood up, only to be stopped as Randy’s arms held onto you in a loose, but surprisingly strong, grip, “I’m going to make popcorn! Let me leave, sir.” 

Randy's arms flopped down dramatically on top of him and you skipped into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of popcorn out of the cabinet and *popping* it into the microwave after a few good shakes. You hear the announcer’s voice fill the living room, surrounded by the cheering voices of the excited crowd as the big event draws closer. You were about to zone out until your eyes drifted over to the sink, and your mind comes up with an evil idea. 

Padding over to the front of the sink, you clasp the decorative knob and start to turn it. Deciding you have little time to ease into it, you twist until a strong, steady stream of ice cold liquid flows out of it and stick your hands under it, slightly jolting as you felt just how cold it was. You spent the rest of the waiting time moving them around, feeling the brisk chill as it cascaded over your hands and pulling them out when it got too biting and stiff. You heard the soft beeping just as Randy yelled for you from the living room. 

“It’s time to see New York’s balls drop!” 

“I hate you!” You yell back as you quickly dumped the bag into one frosted plastic bowl and hurried back into the living room just as the crowd on TV marched through the countdown. 

“Hi.” You said as you set the bowl on the coffee table, falling back into your spot next to Randy, but keeping your hands from touching him, “So, am I lucky enough to get a kiss this New Year’s?”

Randy smirked at you, “Possibly.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

He glanced back at the screen, “Ready.”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He clears his throat, and you smile. 

“3, 2, 1.” You chant in unison as the ball reaches its destination, and you waste no time throwing your arms around Randy’s neck and pulling him on top of you. 

You lay there for a minute or two, just enjoying each other’s presence. But you set your dastardly plan into motion, slowly moving your arms from his neck and down his body until you reach his untucked t-shirt. 

Then, you swiftly stuff your hands under it, splaying your still-cold palms against his sensitive lower back as Randy gasps suddenly and near launches away from you. 

“HOLY FUCK WHY ARE YOUR HANDS SO COLD.”

You giggled as you waved them towards him, “Trade secret.” 

“Is that what you were doing?!?! Making your hands freezing to torment me?!” The look on betrayal is something you could, and would, tease him about for the next week to come. 

“Hey, I made the popcorn too! There was just such a long wait, and I wanted to give you the true New York experience; absolutely unhinged cold.” 

It was Randy’s turn to glare at you as he snatched up the bowl from the coffee table, scooting to the farthest end of the couch, “Yeah, and now you don’t get any of it.”

“You know you love me~.

“Maybe I did, I’m not so sure now.” 

[writingwithcolor]

Gingerbread man as golem

@yaronata asked:

I would like to write a character who is Jewish and uses a Golem. She's based on the D&D class of the artificer which looks magic but isn't, because they produce all their effects with inventions, like the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" quote. Her story is that her very Jewish town was under attack from a terrible monster when she was little. Her Rabbis made a Golem to protect the town, and it succeeded but was torn to pieces in the process. She was fascinated by the Golem and as a kid didn't see a big difference between it's sentience and person's so was really thankful for its sacrifice like you would a person's sacrificing their life for you. They thought all the pieces had been devoured by the monster before it died, but she went looking and found the piece used to animate the Golem, which she, kinda misunderstanding called its "heart". She kept the piece and grew up to be an incredibly skilled cook, specialising as a baker in the town. I imagine she would make a lot of really good food for the Jewish holidays, or to break fasts on ones like Yom Kippur or Tish'abav. But she also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice and the town still being alive, because I feel "we are not dead woo" is a big theme for Jewish holidays from my research, so it could fit, for which she invented ginger bread men to be the golem, and gave them little "hearts" of fruit or honey, and you're meant to eat them limb by limb like the beast did before eating the heart. This would be the inspiration for using the "heart" piece later to make her own giant gingerbread Golem to help her save the world.

These are my questions 1) would it be considered bad or disrespectful for someone who isn't a Rabbi to make a Golem, or is this method of taking an animating piece someone else made disrespectful? 2) Her journey will take her far from her town and her Jewish family and friends and she will likely travel with gentiles. Would it be disrespectful for a Golem to be used to protect a lot of gentiles and one Jew in the course of saving the world? I don't want to fall into the stereotype of someone putting all their effort into valuing and protecting very specifically the group that in real life is oppressive to them. 3) While she is not using magic and is actually mimicking its effects with technology she invents, is this drawing too close to the line of "magical Jew"? 4) I like to "play test" my characters in ttrpgs to really get a feel for them before I write. Would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character when I am a gentile, and would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character in a setting where there are demonstrably real gods other than the one of Judaism?

I really like this character idea and I think it's cute and fun and rooted in Jewish culture but I really want to make sure it's respectful and as good as I, a gentile researching on the internet, thinks it is. Thanks so much! Have a nice day!

My answer to this is very complicated because there are things I both like and do not like about this premise. First of all, I love the idea of a cookie golem, and I'm even imagining the magic word that brings him to life (EMET/truth) would be written in icing. And I'm okay with the part about how she found a piece of the old golem and used it to build a new golem, because that makes sense for a golem made from a baked good when you think about how people use sourdough starter to make a new batch of sourdough.

However, here are the thing that make me cock my head to the side like my little sister's German shepherd:

1. re: "magical Jew" - that's not a trope I've ever heard of. Remember, marginalized groups don't receive identical disrespect across the board. It is indeed a trope to use Black people or disabled people as supernatural plot devices who exist only to further the stories of white main characters or able-bodied main characters. But I can't say as I've ever seen anyone using Jewishness that way. Usually if we are someone's one-dimensional plot device it's as someone's lawyer, fixer, "money guy", etc, not a supernatural force. So this isn't something you have to worry about.

2. I have a certain level of discomfort with you playing as a Jewish character just because playacting as a marginalized culture you're not part of strikes me as off, but I understand that that's how you gain insight into a character you're about to write so it's more of a writing exercise than anything else. (I wonder if D&D regulars from marginalized groups have written about this -- I've only played a few times casually with family so if I did run into this type of discussion in my social justice reading I wouldn't have absorbed it. If anyone is curious I played first as Captain Werewolf, and then switched to playing as Cinnamon Blade because lawful good was too hard. :P )

3. I would prefer you omit the detail about eating the cookies piece by piece symbolically, for two reasons: a. it unintentionally evokes Communion by having appreciative people consume a baked good symbolic of an entity who sacrificed his life for theirs, and b. focusing on the details of flesh consumption reminds me too much of Blood Libel (yes, a gingerbread man is in the shape of a person but how many of us actually think about it literally, the way this act would cause?)

As to your first question: I'm fine with her making a golem even though she's just a rando. Second question: I see what you're saying and maybe it could be more okay if it's really clear how well these gentile folks are treating her? And questions three and four are answered above.

I really do love the idea of a giant gingerbread man golem. Cookie golem T_T <3

--Shira

I would like to second Shira’s point about not ripping apart the gingerbread cookies. I honestly would prefer they were used as decoration, and other cookies eaten instead, since that part just feels so not-Jewish to me, but I don’t have golem-specific issues other than that. It seems like you have already been doing a lot of research, which is appreciated.

As far as the ttrpg/DnD aspect… I bounce back and forth on the topic of playing characters that are so very different from our experiences, other than in fantasy-related ways. However, I am aware that a lot of people will play with, and experiment with gender in game, and learn something about themselves in the process (the number of trans players of ttrpgs who tried out their gender in game before they were out is high). It’s different with Judaism, and even more significantly different when it comes to things you can’t convert into, like various actual, real-world races. But because people do sometimes experience growth from experiences like this, I’m hesitant to dissuade players completely. I do urge you to, at a minimum, bring the same care, research, and willingness to learn, that you brought to this question.

--Dierdra

This sounds like a creative storyline that you could have lots of fun with 😊

At first I was confused by this part:

She also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice

But then you really got me thinking about different types of Jewish holidays and how they come about, so thank you for that!

Because it’s often the little details that either make a story super powerful or kind of nonsensical, I think it would be a good idea to decide what type of holiday is being created here:

A full-blown chag with restrictions on labour and halachic obligations? These are commanded in Torah and new ones can’t be added.

A minor yom tov with halachic obligations but no restrictions? These were instituted by the rabbis prior to the destruction of the Temple, so again new ones can’t be added.

A public holiday or equivalent? This would usually be declared by the Knesset in Israel, and filter to the rest of the Jewish world from there.

A community-based yom tov with specific customs only for people in the know, such as certain Chasidic groups celebrating the birthdays of their deceased leaders? I asked around, but no one can really tell me how these holidays get started, which is probably a good indication that they arise quite organically from a group of people who all just feel that it should be celebrated. Probably not created by a single person, as such.

Something she runs from her bakery, not religion-based, but more like a day of doing special products and deals the way many small businesses do on their anniversary?

Now, if the people of a modern-day town were actually saved by a real live Golem, that would arguably be the most overt miracle for many generations, so there would be a decent chance of options 3 and/or 4 happening. It’s entirely plausible that there could be special foods for this day that become a tradition, including Golem cookies. People who directly benefited might also return to the site where the Golem fought the monster and recite the prayer, ‘Blessed is Hashem, Master of the Universe, Who performed a miracle for me in this place.’

Alternatively, if it’s important that your MC created the holiday, something like option 5 might be the best. Hopefully this will still fulfil what you need: you describe her as incredibly skilled, so I can imagine the day when she goes all out on the Golem cookies being one of the most exciting events of the year for the townspeople, just because her baking is that good. Plus, they already have a personal stake in the Golem’s sacrifice, so I definitely think it could be a thing without being an official holiday. Also, if she is outside of an all-Jewish environment, don’t forget that she would have to decide whether to commemorate the anniversary in the Hebrew calendar or the local one.

Coming back to the cookies, sorry if we’re getting a little repetitive on this point! But I don’t see the cookies being torn limb from limb as part of a celebration. First of all, this doesn’t sound like a very celebratory thing to do, to say the least. Can you imagine explaining that to a three-year-old on their first Yom HaGolem? They would be terrified! (I don’t read this suggestion as accidental anti-Semitism so much as getting carried away with a metaphor, which I’m sure as writers we have all done!)

But also, it’s worth pointing out that our commemorative foods aren’t usually that literal. If you think about hamantaschen, maror, or apple in honey, they’re all symbols. That’s not to say that having Golem-shaped cookies is a problem, as this sounds like just a bit of fun that the MC is having and not something that is directly at odds with Judaism or Jewish culture. But it’s worth bearing in mind that the more literal you go from there in terms of tying the cookies to the event they commemorate, the less culturally aligned your holiday food becomes.

Finally, about the Golem protecting non-Jewish people: I like this idea! There’s a stereotype that we only use whatever is at our disposal to help ourselves and other Jewish people, so a Golem being created by Jews but helping others as well is a big plus for me. Of course, as has already been pointed out, this would be an odd choice if her Saving The World team were anti-Semitic or otherwise disrespectful to her/her community, but I don’t think you were headed that way!

-Shoshi

I have to come back in here just to squee over the phrase “Yom HaGolem.” Well done :D

--Shira

[aro-comics]

Jealousy (Part 1)

Part 1/4 - finally starting the jealousy comic 🎉🥳!!! I guess it’s a weird thing to be excited about considering the subject matter but it’s a comic I’ve wanted to share for some time now. While I wish most of my comics could be positive/focused on the good parts of being aro, the fact of the matter is that its tough sometimes too. I struggle with feeling okay about my identity and I know some of you do too. I hope that this series can at least shed some light on these feelings, and remind us that we’re not alone in what we’re feeling even when it’s not great 💚 This parts mostly introducing how I was feeling a few months ago. I used to never have any sort of reaction to ship art, but these days more often than not I’m finding myself jealous. It really surprised me at first, because ... i shouldn’t technically feel this way, at least on the surface? I know I don’t want to date/feel attracted to people that way overall, so it doesn’t seem to make sense that I would feel jealousy. But after some reflection I realized what that feeling was based in (stay tuned for the next few updates 😉). P.S: just to clarify on the art of the ocs on slide 6 - they’re some really old characters I had from when I was a teen 😂 I used to think that they were my “ideal type”/the kind of people I would want to date but deep down I knew i felt nothing for them that way lmaoooo. It confused the heck out of me b/c I know that these two really would have been *perfect* for me technically. Guess it makes sense now tho cause I know I’m aro 😅

[Image Description:

Slide 1: “Sometimes, I look at art of people in (romantic) love …”

Celia sitting at a table, looking down at her phone with an uncertain expression. Her desk has a teacup and an open sketchbook where she has drawn one of her characters. 

Slide 2: A closeup of Celia’s hands holding her phone. She is on instagram, and is looking at what appears to be a sketch of two characters. A taller white person with a spiky short hairstyle with an undercut is leaning in for a kiss with a shorter south asian woman with a bob cut.  

Slide 3: “... and for some reason, I get so, so Jealous.”

Back to scene of Celia sitting at her desk. She leans down with her hand on her chin, and she looks dissatisfied. 

Slide 4: Celia talking to the viewer now. She gestures out with her left hand. “I’m not sure why, to be honest.”

Slide 5: “When I look at people in my life -”

A drawing of three different people against a green background. In the far back is a long-haired person with tan skin. In the middle ground is a girl with long, curly dark hair, light skin, and round glasses. In the foreground is a guy with light skin, wavy brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. 

Slide 6: “-even people I wish existed in my life -”

A coloured sketch of two characters on a piece of paper is pictured. On the left is an indian girl with long brown hair, light freckles, holding a phone and wearing a peach puff sleeve blouse. Next to her is her name, Chiara Minhas, along with her pronouns (she/her). On the right is a tall albino black man with short cropped hair and a black t-shirt with an ambiguous university crest. His name, Albion Whitham, is written along with his pronouns (he/him). To the bottom right of the sketch is a note that reads “Old characters from when I was a teen”.

Another note is written at the bottom of the slide in small text: “Note: These are old characters I used to say I would date”

Slide 7: “- I know I feel nothing for them like that. Because I would never date anyone.” Celia sitting, her hand again on her chin but in a more pensive or thoughtful way. 

Slide 8: “But somehow ... I feel this jealousy, all the same. They look so happy. Cozy, warm, safe and wanted.”

Celia looks down, with a slight frown. 

Slide 9: “And the comments are full of praise. Joy. Support.”

A close up on the scene of Celia sitting at the table from the beginning of the comic. She is trying to cover up a frown, and little popups are drawn from the phone showing the comments she is looking at. They say: “Wow! [multiple heart emojis] So cute”, “My OTP! I hope I can find that one day”, “So happy for them! [Another heart emoji]”]

[winchesterxxi]

Urges of the Subconscious (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

Gif by @keanurevees​

Rating: E (Explicit)

Type: Smut

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Stationed in Tatooine for the night, courtesy of Peli Motto, you and Din are forced to share a room. Thinking that it was more than obvious that the two of you weren’t together, you both expected to find two separate beds - that didn’t quite happen. Sleeping next to the person you’ve been having dreams about for a while now leads to some unconscious shuffling closer to each other - culminating in quite the interesting morning.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: One bed trope, SMUT (wet dream, rubbing, blindfold, nipple play/breast play, fingering)

A/N: I haven’t written for Din in so long, god, I missed my favorite bucket-head. This is also a long one because my gears are oiled and working, so bear with me. Also, part 2? 👀

Buy me a Kofi!

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ 

When Din had told you that there was a fault in the differential and exhaust manifold of the Razor, you knew that meant a trip down to Tattooine. You weren’t particularly excited about it – the scorching hot weather mixed with the sandy landscape always made you feel gross and heavy, sensations that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The child on the other hand, at the mention of a need for repairs, cooed in excitement, eager to encounter his adored Peli Motto, who he seems to have absolutely smitten. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it was nice to see the kid being in someone else’s arms without fearing for his life.

Down on the rocky ground in front of her secluded shop, Peli looks up at the shadow that suddenly allocated itself in front of the sun, only to adjust her vision and catch the Razor Crest slowly descending closer, until its landing skids contacted the red ground and the large cargo ramp started to lower itself.

Into her vision came what she secretly nicknamed as “The Space Family”: You, with the baby in your left arm, and the imponent Mandalorian just a couple of feet behind, a gothic painting, some would say one that was slowly making their way towards her.

“We brought the Child!” You amusingly exclaimed, grinning as her smile immediately grew and the child was already trying to wiggle out of your embrace.

“Easy there!” she exclaimed as the child cooed and babbled in her arms, content with the reunion

“How much do you want for it?” she asks you “Just kidding. But not really.”

“The kid’s still not for sale. But I have a few repairs that need to be done.” Din intervenes. You know he isn’t being purposefully stern, but the man could sure use some lessons on loosening up and being able to understand a joke.

“Always a pleasure to talk with you, Mandalorian.” Peli greets with an expressionlessly sarcastic face that falls upon her as soon as she looks up from the child  “Point me in the direction.”

After a close inspection alongside the Mandalorian, they both returned to where you and the child stood before he reached for Peli once again and you laughed at his tiny attachment problem.

“ I can get you out of here tomorrow at around noon.”

“Noon? Peli, we can’t stay overnight. People need us.”

“People can wait. Can’t they?” She asks the question in a higher-pitched voice directed towards the kid who she bops in the nose before turning back to you and Din. “And sure you can! There’s a small holsterly just a few miles down the sand, an hour walk and you’ll be fine.”

“We only have credits for the maintenance.” Says Din from your right side.

Peli is about to throw a quick answer, as she always does, but something stops her. She closes her mouth and looks down at Grogu, who happily jiggles the tiny ball between his fingers. She smirks and looks up at you two again, adjusting the kid in her embrace.

“Tell you what. You let me take care of the kid for the night, you two go and have some rest, Maker knows you need it… and the maintenance is on me.”

“We’re not leaving –“ the Mandalorian starts but you quickly cut him off, placing a firm hand on his whistling bird, settling him.

“Deal.”

“Wh- What?” He shakes his helmet in your direction.

“Come on.” You tug him along your side, heavy beskar boots reluctant to move, as you wave back at Grogu and Peli who is smiling like two children who will, more than definitely, be up to no good in the following hours.

But he knows better than to make a scene with you when you are playing nice. So he waits until the pair that was left behind to be out of sight to pull you by your elbow to face him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but we are almost out of credits.” You reason with him, picking up on his sentence. “Din, she did a nice thing… not all people are out to get you.” Your voice is calm, and it takes all of your strength not to reach out and touch him, maybe caress the helmet of his cheek, or his hand. But he’s who he is, and you don’t want to cross any lines.

His towering figure lets go of your elbow and he walks ahead through the sand, talking over his shoulder.

“This is the first and last time we’re doing this.”

You grin and bit your bottom lip behind him, feeling victorious from having him wrapped around your finger in situations like this, before speeding your own stride to catch up to him, feeling the heat reflected on his beskar hit your skin.

It was a small inn, there was no doubt, more like a one night resting home for the looks of it, the offer ranging little above a few sleeping quarters along a hall and a shared bathroom at the end of it.

Once unlocking the wooden door, you and Din stepped into the now moonlit room, which ended up being more spacious than anticipated.

With Din closing the door and locking it once again, your eyes scan around the carved walls and the big window, the tapestry on the floor and then – the bed. The only bed. Not even a couch on the other end of the room. Only a bed.

Din seems to have noticed it too as you feel him come to a halt right behind you, helmet turning to scan the room.

“Why would they give us only one bed? I specifically said it was a two people bedroom.” You can feel his aggrieved tone sip through the helmet, frustrated with the situation.

“Two people. Not two beds.” You scoff and he looks at you, causing you to look away and avert your smile from his field of vision – how unskilled Din was with such mundane tasks always amused you. “I’m afraid this one’s on you Din Djarin.”

You walk over to the bed and start to peel the layers of your leather uniform, down to your undershirt and panties.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Din asks you, turning his helmet away once his helmet falls upon your bare legs.

“Getting to bed. You should too.” You state in a deadpan voice, before sliding your legs underneath the cotton sheet and laying your head in the fluffy pillow – something you haven’t had in months.

“No, yeah, I can see that! But I-… do you… Are you…?” he stumbles over his words, awkwardly still standing in the middle of the room at the bottom of the bed.

“Din, rest. Come on, it’s not every day you have a real bed to lay on.” The man huffs and walks over to your opposite side of the bed, before pulling the covers back, getting ready to seat down, before you shoot up on your elbow.

“Aren’t you going to take the armour off?”

“Why would I? Hostile planet, unknown people sleeping next door. Peli might contact us at any minute.” He has a big list of reasons, and he could more than definitely go on, but something in the way you are looking at him through the visor stops him.

“Din. Nothing bad is going to happen for one night.” Your eyes were honest and they pierced his soul melting his insides and kicking his usual hunter instinct out the window.

Not being able to resist, he drops his shoulders and sighs, before reaching for his chest pauldron and unclasping it while you grin victoriously.

“The helmet stays on.” He warns you, while pieces upon pieces of beskar and leather fall to the ground, placed against the foot of the bed until he is in nothing besides his fitted undersuit and beskar helmet.

Reaching for the covers once again, Din finally sleeps into the bed and as soon as his back hits the mattress he releases a quiet grown and you chuckle.

“Better?” you ask him, face turned his way and cocking your eyebrow up.

“Better.” This time, to your surprise, he’s the one that chuckles, the vibration of the modulated sound going straight to your stomach.

“Goodnight Din.” You whisper, turning your back to him and placing your body in your preferred position to sleep. With one look at you, the only nothing he can now see is the moonlit outline of your curves as your ribcage rises and falls at the rhythm of your quiet breath.

He’d be damned if anything happened to you. For as paranoid as he was the possibility of someone breaking in at the dead of the night and harming you, stopped him from turning his back to you and instead, settling with his chest up to the ceiling, helmet turned in your direction.

“Goodnight.”

For the first time in Maker knows how long, both you and Din managed to sleep during a full night with no sudden wake up calls or alarms beeping around. It was nice, he had to admit. So nice, that his body got a little too comfortable, his hands in his slumber reaching for your body and your own figure, unconsciously draw to his embrace let itself be held by him during the long hours of the dark – none of you being aware of such.

But somewhere along that time, in the wee small hours of the morning, your body rotated in his arms, back to his slowly moving chest and his hands, unbothered, had to keep touching you, they had to make sure you were there, hence gently palming your right boob.

It wasn’t until you felt an involuntary squeeze of his bare hands against your tunic, a definite sleep spasm that you were pulled awake and made aware of the situation.

Heat flooded your whole body once you realized the compromising position you both found yourselves in. Gently humming Din’s name, you don’t dare to move his arm, being very aware of his hunter instincts.

“Din.” You repeat again, this time louder and the man behind you hums. At the same time as the sound leaves his lungs, his fingers squeeze yet again. You suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip, preventing any sort of moan from escaping.

Din groans once, the sleep still gripping his system but he must’ve soon realized where his hand was, forearm trapped beneath your weight as he quickly pulls it away, sitting up straight in the bed.

“Kriff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to-“ His chest is rising and lowering heavy, and you can see a hint of the red skin that heats on his neck and upper chest.

“It’s alright, I know.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, you having since sat up in bed, back against the headboard, only your breathings and and heavy tension floating in the air. You were pretty sure your cheeks were still pink, as they still felt hot.

“I don’t want you to think that I wanted to do anything to you. I would never.” He says, coming off harsher than intended. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, Maker, he did, he had fallen head over heels a long time ago… But, maybe you didn’t feel that way. You were too good for him, anyway. A puddle of light in his life that he didn’t want to corrupt with his own being.

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper, afraid that he really didn’t want anything to do with you, slightly hurt by the words he’d just said.

Silence remains and you look to your side only to find the beskar helmet turning in your direction, your hopeful eyes and hung mouth pleading for a genuine answer.

Feeling bold, you reach for his bare hand that rested against the mattress and hold it up to where it was before and he is silently following your actions, but you can feel his muscles tensing at your actions.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” His voice is strained as he looks away but dares not to move his hand.

“Din. Please.” You whisper in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for his helmet to return to face you.

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

There is a moment there. One of silence, but that was heavy with unsaid words. A look into your eyes was all it took him to pull your hips gently down and lay you back on the soft mattress while his body shifted to be above you.

His rough fingers gently tugged at one of the straps of your tunic before pulling it down and off your arm, same as with the other one that followed, leaving the thin fabric still splayed over your chest, from where he could now see the hard buds straining through.

Your breathing deepened and you could feel heat pool at your core, shifting your thighs closer together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed to the masked man above you as your knees brushed his crotch.

“Mesh’la.” He whispers, looking down your body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his confined pants.

Putting all of his weight on his elbows, the Mandalorian slides the fabric of your tunic down, revealing your swollen breasts, courtesy of the arousal he was fabricating in you. His fists curled at the sudden need that he had, one that he couldn’t fulfil if there was the possibility of you seeing his face.

Sitting back on his knees, he reaches out to the floor on his side of the bed, where he remembers to have discarded his armour and other layers the night before. When he sits back up, you can see that he is holding one of his undershirts, the one that went directly under the leather layer, made of a soft black fabric.

He motions it towards your head as if asking for permission to put it around your head and all you can do is nod while bitting your bottom lip, eager to give in to the pleasure he intended to deliver.

You lift your head from where it was resting against the pillow and his gentle hands tie the fabric around your eyes, making sure that it was tight enough for it not to slip, but not too much so that it would hurt you.

In the darkness that you found yourself surrounded by, all your other senses tingled in anticipation, especially your touch and hearing as from somewhere lower above you, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by that of metal being placed on wood.

Still sitting on his knees, his eyes could now see you in all of your glory, without the darkening of the helmet. And you were a sight to behold. Hair splayed around your head on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation, breasts aching for him. To the latter he gave in first, lowering himself to attach his lips to your left nipple, his breath fanning over it for a moment before diving in.

You suck in a sharp breath and moan at his action, while one of his hands finds your free nipple, not wanting it to go unattended.

“Din, that feels so good.” Your head lifts up and then drops with a small thud against the pillow taking in shallow and quick breaths as his fingers and tongue continued to tease your sensitive buds.

His mouth and hands were equally skilled, the latter, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, as quick jolts of pain and pleasure rushed through every nerve in your body.

He stayed there for a long time, switching sides every now and then, mouth sucking and tongue lapping and brushing against your nipples.

He sucked and moaned around it every time his tongue stroked the tip of your nipple and your hands fumbled between grabbing the sheets below you or his soft hair, body arching up wanting more. More of him, more of that sensation, just more.

With your tunic still draped over your torso the one hand of Din’s that wasn’t supporting his weight travels down to your core, thick fingers brushing against your clit and soon after trailing a path up your dripping slit, moaning when his digits became wet.

“Did that make you wet, cyar’ika? You like it when I play with your nipples?” his husky voice sent waves of arousal up your body.

“Yes, Din, you’re so good at it, please.” You reach your hand down to palm at his erection “I need you, please.”

Gently he grabs your hand from his crotch and places it down next to your head. “Next time. We need to get going in a few if we don’t want to burn under the midday sun. But I can still make you feel good.”

You moaned at his willingness to prioritize your pleasure over his, going as far as denying himself of an orgasm at this crucial moment, which would have him frustrated until the next time you could be alone together again.

His lips return to your nipples and, at the same time, he slides two digits inside your aching cunt, the warmth and clenching around his skin making him whimper around your nipple, making the pleasure skyrocket on your part.

The outer rim of his free hand now rested against the mound that was free from his mouth’s hold, as his middle finger flicked up and down against the tip of your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as it synched perfectly with his ministrations against and inside your core.

It was all too much, and tears pooled at the outer corners of your eyes, leaving an eventual wet trail behind as they ran down your cheeks, until being soaked by his shirt that rested around your eyes.

Your body convulsed under his frame, arching against him as a wave of white pleasure washing over you like never before, the joined ecstasy of his two places of stimulation pushing you with full force over the edge you were chasing.

Din rode your high until he felt you could no more, never for once slowing his movement in between your legs as your cum dripped down his fingers and into his palm, and making the most of your sensitive nipples by bringing both your breasts together with his large hand, positioning them in a way that both nipples were almost touching, allowing him to lick and suck at the two simultaneously.

Once your body is spent and limp, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath and trying to drive some oxygen up to your brain as you felt like being high, Mando finally lifts his face up to your own and, for the first time lets his lips latch onto something other than your chest. The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue roaming your lips before exploring your mouth.

Din then sits back up on his knees, chuckling as your head followed his once your lips parted, not wanting to separate just yet.

His bare hand reaches to the side table where he’d laid the helmet and puts it back on, coming away from straddling you and rather returning to his side of the bed, pulling you in by your waist to his side and sliding the shirt up from around your eyes

He watches you smile, still in the aftereffects of your orgasm.

“Hey.” You muse up at him.

“Hey.” He answers, the helmet preventing you from seeing the lopsided smile that adorned his beautiful face.

“That was…”

“I know.” He completes your thought.

“Was it so bad, after all?” You close your eyes as the question leaves your lips, the exhaustion of this morning activity starting to wash over you.

“Not even close.”

As if on cue, the first ray of sunshine makes its way through the window glass and you know that it means you need to get dressed and out of this place. Din notices it as well, patting your side before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“Come one, mesh’la. We need to go.”

“I know.” You groan up to the air. “But this is so comfortable.”

“The faster we get there, the faster we can go into the Razor and the closer we are to putting Grogu asleep.” He tells you, hands on his hips, a teasing tone on his voice and damn it, he got you good.

“I hate that you know me so well.” You huff with a smile, crawling up to his side of the bed so that you’re on your knees on top of the mattress, still, he towers over you.

“Can’t wait to know all of you.” He whispers as his helmet comes closer down your face and his hands travel to your waist. He then gives it a little squeeze before patting your ass. “Come on now, let’s go. I have a feeling someone is waiting to make grabby hands at us.”

“I was about to say you have a stationed ship waiting to take off, but I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You muse over your shoulder, walking to the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

As you go, Din stays behind adoring the view of your hips swaying and ass jiggling as you walk.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He really couldn’t wait to know all of you.

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[breathings-of-the-heart]

Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada  The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.  

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.  

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--”


The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly. 


“Hello, Levi.” 


~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight. 


Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left. 


To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes. 


“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.” 


“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).”


The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--”


“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.  

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.  

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.


He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.”


He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea. 


You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”  

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  


“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.  

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.  

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.  

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.  

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

taglist: @asterroidd @chucky-26o1 @silversxble @belovedwindermere @christina-mj-stan @leviackerrman @cravrat @thekohakuriver1 @batakprincess @sunisenpai

[sunflovverharry]

Visiting her grandparents - HS FIC SLAM 2

a/n: so i wanted to get a little something out for you and this fic slam by @oh-honey-styles was the perfect opportunity!! literally finished this in under an hour and actually pretty happy with the outcome. Hope you enjoy and as always; please reblog to get my writing out for more people to read and let me know what you think of this piece! Have fun reading this and the other fics <3

prompts used; “why haven’t you kissed me yet?” + “don’t look at me like that”

pairing: harry x y/n

warnings: allusion to smut but nothing happens

word count: 1.1k

Harry and y/n were spending the weekend at y/n’s grandparents seeing as they already were in Costa Rica for a relaxing holiday. They had been waiting for when they both had enough days off work to go on a holiday - and to Harry, it had been a no brainer they would go to Limón so y/n could see her grandparents.

The weekly facetime calls between them - where Harry would sometimes join for a bit - wasn’t enough and nothing was more special to him (or her) than family. Having decided to start trying for their own baby when summer is over, this was perfect for just the two of them. It would most likely be the last holiday without a baby tagging along and ruining their alone time - in the best way.

After staying at a hotel for a week, spending most days at the beach, going to markets to buy little trinkets to bring home and eating good food, they drove a half hour up the coast to get to Earl and Jackie’s home. Harry had only met them twice, once only a few months into dating and at their wedding two years ago, and was almost as excited to see them as y/n.

By the time they had settled in and had dinner it was past ten and they were about ready to go to bed. The heat had always made y/n tired even though she absolutely loved laying out in the sun and doing activities outside. Harry was the complete opposite, seeming to get all his energy from the heat and not wanting to go to sleep until two in the morning most nights. It was the biggest difference in their day to day life - Harry survived off of little sleep while y/n needed at least eight hours.

«Good night darlings, see you in the morning!» Jackie gave them both a kiss on the cheek as she bid them good night while Earl gave them a wave from the sofa where he was watching tv.

«Night gran, night grampy.» The both of them walked to the end of the hallway to get to their room they were sharing for the weekend before heading back home. It would be a tight squeeze with the bed being only a full bed, but they didn’t mind seeing as they enjoyed sharing the small space together.

Harry’s eyes were glued to y/n as she stood in the middle of the room undressing into nothing but her barely there baby blue g-string. There was no way she didn’t do it to tease him at least a little bit, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. It was y/n’s rule to keep their hands off of each other while they were staying in her grandparents’ house and if Harry had a say in the matter he would tell her they probably wouldn’t care and fuck her senseless. Though with much less noises coming from his lips than usual.

He kept his eyes on her when she turned around, basically ogling at his wife who he had seen naked way too many times to count. If needed, he’d be able to draw where every freckle or imperfection (that he found perfect) of hers was on her body. When they were intimate he would kiss every mole and freckle while also moving down from her jaw to her thighs. It made y/n feel special and so loved.

Right now, he wishes he could be in between those thighs, kissing at her lovely creamy skin before delving into her cunt. Licking and sucking at her clit before pushing his tongue inside her to make her make those gorgeous small sounds she always made for him. That’s what made him feel so special - the fact that he was the only one who made her so blissfully unaware of everything going on in her life except what her husband was doing to her right in that moment.

«You shouldn’t be giving yourself those thoughts, babe.» His wife was absolutely right he shouldn’t, but given the fact that his boner was already pretty prominent, he really didn’t care if he continued to delve into his fantasies about his wife. No one would ever be able to make him feel like she did by only being herself.

«Come ‘ere love.» Harry reached out his hand to catch hers, pulling her towards him. Y/n carefully fell half on top of him, not missing the way his boner was just about grazing her hip. «Why haven’t you kissed me yet?» Harry was affectionate, even more so than y/n was, and her not having given him a kiss since this morning had made him even more so.

Y/n smiled at him cutely, loving how he was so in touch with his feelings and wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable with her. She leant in and pressed her lips to his, meeting for the first time in almost twelve hours. He tasted like the minty toothpaste he used and she pulled away fairly quick after, not enjoying the taste in the slightest.

«Will you please forget about your rule? Pretty please?» Harry decided there was nothing wrong in trying to convince his wife to at least do something, but he already knew she wouldn’t budge. First off because she tends to follow rules (especially the ones she sets) and second, he knew she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

Y/n did nothing but raise her eyebrows at his ridiculous attempt at trying to get in her panties. She knew he knew it wouldn’t work as it isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Harry would try to get her to budge just a bit and y/n would turn him down every time, always sticking to what she’s already told him would or wouldn’t happen.

«Don’t look at me like that.» Y/n couldn’t help but laugh when his lips turned to a pout, not giving up in making her feel sorry for him.

«Baby, I love you, but we’ve been through this a million times and you know how it’s going to end.» Y/n pecked his pout before moving to the side, laying her back to his side so he could cuddle her to sleep. Harry gave up then, knowing he couldn’t do anything to budge her, and put his arm around her waist - hand going straight to its usual place, her boob. To him it was a comfort thing, not an action of trying to make you horny.

«I love you, too, but I can’t wait to get back home so I can fuck you till you lose your voice from screaming my name.»

[succulentsunrise]

A Chance of Courage

- Small talks, small actions and small decisions lead to something momentous.

My piece for the YamiChar Week, Day 2! It is both a stand-alone and a continuation to my Day 1 fic 🥰

Edit: I've added a small directory!

Day 1 | All | Day 3

It is funny how sometimes even the smallest things can become an obsession in one’s mind. For Charlotte Roselei, this was the meeting she had had with Yami Sukehiro in the gardens a week prior. A cordial, common meeting - but the substance of it empty. Her mind kept replaying that meeting, her heart aching and leaping into conclusions. She knew that the more she thought about it, the more she was adding things into the scene. More meaningful stares. More subtle hints. The reality was probably something more reasonable.

“Sis?” Sol’s voice woke her up from her thoughts.

Charlotte turned towards the younger woman, straightening her back and trying to concentrate on her surroundings. They were sitting together outside, in the garden. Ah - that was why her thoughts had turned to the meeting again. The thought distracted her once more. She was in some aspect conscious that Sol was talking to her, but she found it difficult to concentrate on that. Sharing a moment like this with Yami would be impossible. He wasn’t the type of man to sit outside and read poetry. Charlotte liked poetry. It was proper and beautiful and oh - so romantic. She blinked, trying to listen to Sol again. What a beautiful morning it was…

“Sis, you’re not listening.”

The accusation wasn’t without reason, causing Charlotte to look slightly embarrassed and apologetic. She spoke gently, her eyes lowering down to the poetry book on her lap.

“My apologies, Sol.”

“What’s on your mind?” Sol asked, her young face painted with curiosity.

It would be too embarrassing to tell. Too difficult to tell to Sol. Charlotte shook her head with a small smile.

“I was wondering what inspired these authors to write so beautifully,” she lied.

“They probably couldn’t say what they wanted out loud, y’know,” Sol laughed with a grin.

Charlotte considered her for a moment. Sol was a vibrant person, full of life and brashness. She didn’t stop to consider things yet. She lived in the moment. Charlotte knew Sol looked up to her. Sol was still easily impressionable. Any opinion Charlotte presented, she echoed louder and coarser. Yes, Sol wasn’t refined, not like a noble. Perhaps it was what endeared her to Charlotte. Perhaps she liked coarse people. People like Sol and Yami. They both disarmed the wall of thorns she had built in her quest for control over her own magic.

They probably couldn’t say what they wanted out loud.

Charlotte found it a rather apt remark. Perhaps she should write one? No. Yami wouldn’t understand anything about poetry, and in any case, it would be rather too embarrassing. It was already embarrassing to try to come to terms with the fact that the ruffian had stolen her heart. With a sigh, Charlotte shook her head.

“You do not admire the ingeniousness of the poets,” she remarked to Sol. “Perhaps because you always have the right words for everything.”

Sol laughed a little more, its gay sound ringing in the air.

“I’ve got the words, alright, but sometimes they come out wrong! Or sometimes I mean to say something, but I say something else instead, something that I wasn’t supposed to say at all!”

“That’s because you speak quicker than you think,” Charlotte suggested, turning back to her poetry book.

Sol didn’t seem to mind her comment, and instead returned to her own project. She had decided to try embroidering on Charlotte’s insistence. So far, she seemed to be somewhat frustrated by the actual process, though delighted by the results.

Later that evening, Charlotte visited the marketplace at the Royal Capital. She never quite liked these trips. There were too many shouts, too many men staring, too many awed sighs. She steeled her face into a cold stare to keep people from approaching her and simply strode towards her destination: an antiquarian bookshop. It was a gold mine for old poetry books, and she had become a regular there by now. Her visit there was simple and sweet. The shopkeeper recommended a new arrival - a rather old poetry book by a rather old poet. Flipping through the pages, Charlotte had approved of its contents and taken it. Then, business concluded, she left. As she glanced around herself on the road, her gaze picked up a familiar figure far in the distance. The combination of dark hair, black cloak and the relaxed style of walking was impossible to not recognize. Yami. Next to him was one of his subordinates - Charlotte couldn’t quite remember his name. She considered for a moment going after them and talking, but her pride won over. She wouldn’t know what to say. In any case, it was too embarrassing, running after a man. Charlotte turned to the opposite direction, deciding to take the long way home. This time she tried specifically not to think of Yami. She avoided the parks of the Royal Capital with the exact purpose of not remembering their meeting. She kept the poetry book she had just bought out of her sight and she stopped herself from wondering about what Yami was doing here. She tried to concentrate on the other people wandering around: a group of young girls giggling and whispering in a group, several workers sitting together on a break, young children running across the street…

It was an impulse that made Charlotte stop at a street food vendor. She wasn’t especially hungry, but it had passed enough time from the last time she had eaten. A sweet smell had caught her attention, and the sight of the first berries of the year had enthralled her. She happily bought a snack and found herself a place nearby to eat it. Then, Charlotte sunk to her thoughts once more. She should’ve taken Sol with, most likely. Sol would’ve liked such a sweet snack. It’d be difficult to take one with, though. Would it stay good - and if she took one, wouldn’t she need to buy the whole squad some? No, it was too much trouble. Charlotte leaned her face to her hand and sighed. She’d just have to bring Sol here some other time. She couldn’t take the whole squad. For now she would just enjoy the atmosphere of the city, eat her little snack and go home. There were still some reports to be written. Charlotte’s thoughts became immediately busy with planning. She’d first write that one, then turn to the mission business - and then there was that case of misconduct from one of the girls. Yes, that would be very important to investigate. She would make sure there was something in that accusation before she’d let it slip through her fingers.

A series of voices caught Charlotte’s attention as she pondered her duties.

“--it’s great for all tastes, Captain!” a warm, insistent tone explained, half-apologetic, half-excited. “You could bring anyone here and they’d find what they’d like!”

The young man speaking was dressed in greens - Charlotte recognized him immediately as that subordinate of Yami’s. Her gaze moved quickly next to the man. Yes, Yami was with him. Scratching the back of his neck as he was squinting at the street vendor’s food, he seemed unimpressed and unwilling to be there.

“Just get what you want, and let’s go,” she heard Yami grunt.

It was clear they were here because of the subordinate. Somehow, while Charlotte had tried to avoid them, they had run to Charlotte. She felt a slight flush come to her face. Yami moved away from the vendor, waiting at the side for the subordinate to pick what he wanted. Charlotte stood up, impulse taking over. Several things jumped in her mind: the meeting, the fact that poets couldn’t say what they wanted, the fact that Yami was right there and that Yami was coarse like Sol, and that Sol spoke quicker than she thought. They didn’t make much sense like that, but they were what drove Charlotte to walk up to Yami.

“Oh, hey.”

Yami’s greeting expressed his surprise well. The eyes that stared at her were shrouded in that dumb gaze. Charlotte spoke fast and breathily, forgetting to draw air while speaking. She didn’t want the subordinate to hear.

“I was wondering if you’d meet me tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow?”

Yami’s gaze flickered to the skies. He scratched his cheek.

“Look at you,” he then answered, and Charlotte could swear there was a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Sure.”

“Tomorrow then. Let’s say at six, at the--”

“--at the Grove,” Yami interrupted with a smirk.

Charlotte’s composure faltered, the stream of words sputtering to an end. She felt her face become fully red as she tried to regain her ability to speak. The Grove? It wasn’t the one she had planned to suggest, but it was an alright dining place. Not as fine as she had thought of - but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Perhaps because she hadn’t planned it out properly yet. From the corner of her eye, she saw Yami’s subordinate turn to look for his captain. She didn’t want him to see this.

“Cat got your tongue? The establishment not good enough?” Yami teased.

Yes, it was teasing. Charlotte could recognize it, even when his expression looked hurt and insulted. He had perfected that look.

“It’s fine,” Charlotte muttered, embarrassed and caught off-guard.

Yami smiled.

It was a smug smile.

Charlotte whirled around and went back to where she had been sitting, picking up her things and leaving with her half-eaten snack. She couldn’t bear to stay there any longer. No, she needed to go and work on the reports.

That was - if she could concentrate on them after this.

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: The Day Off (a post-series part 7)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: E for so Explicit lmao

Summary: Remember when Javi wondered if you heard him masturbate through the wall? 👀

Tags: SMUT; f masturbation; voyeurism?; fingering; oral (f receiving); dom-ish!Javi but he’s soft at the end

Word Count: 3,309

A/N: I’m so sorry that this is not part 6, but uh have some alternative smut? <3

Also known as the masturbation scene I’ve been talking about, this scene takes place post-series because I just can’t get these two out of my head.

Masterlist

--

It’s a cloudy day in the city and the air is thick, crackling with energy, a slow-building storm borne in on a mischievous breeze. Despite this, you have the windows thrown open to hear the distant rumbles of thunder. The twisting air makes you restless, and you glance at your bed, wishing Javi were here.

You have the day off, but as it’s a weekday, you’re not expecting to see him until well after business hours. A giddy bubble still swells in your chest at the idea that you can indeed now expect to see him, rather than just hope to run into him in the hall. 

You and Javier have been “together” for several months now. He is infuriating and fascinating and above all, careful- so while you’re both prone to wandering over to each other’s apartments when you’re bored, you’re also perfectly content to take things as slowly as he prefers. 

Your gaze wanders over to the bed again. Biting your lip, you think of how Javi often uses ‘slow’ to mean ‘thorough’. When he has the energy, that man can work on you for hours, taking you apart piece by methodological piece. Nothing escapes his attention- not the slightest tremor of interest in something he hasn’t done to you yet.

Your breathing deepens as you stand there in your bedroom, thoughts steadily spiraling around Javier. You didn’t have any serious plans for the day, you’d just been puttering about doing some cleaning- 

You give in.

You set aside what you’d been doing and go to wash your hands. When you return, you strip off your pants and flounce into bed. Warm air wraps around you from the open window. A closer roll of thunder makes you look to the sky, and you feel an electric, taboo shiver wash over you at the idea that you’re about to masturbate in broad daylight, with the window wide open.

But you grin as you nestle into your comforter. And why shouldn’t you? Better to do it now, while everyone nearby is out at work, than force yourself to be quiet at night.

Not that Javier is very helpful in that regard, you reflect wryly. Plus, you’d hardly had need to touch yourself since you’d started sleeping together. But sometimes a little you-time is nice, even if you have a regular partner, so you run your hands up your thighs and belly, intending to take your time…

--

Unbeknownst to you, Javier isn’t at work either. He’s at home, in fact- rifling through his closet, bedroom window flung open at this rare opportunity to air the place out. Rainy days make him edgy, but with things on standby at the office, they’d sent him home.

He’s just considering taking a smoke break when he hears it: muted and soft, but unmistakably a moan. His head whips toward the wall.

He remains frozen in place, ears straining, until the next thing he hears. “Fuck, Javier.” Slightly louder, and his head turns to the window.

Are you…home right now? Thinking of him while you-? Weather forgotten, Javi silently scrambles closer to the window, heart pounding as hard as if he were out on a bust. Now that he’s listening, he hears more: the faint but utterly recognizable creak of your bed frame, the rustle of sheets. The vocal sighs you make that usually tell him he’s successfully seduced you.

Before Javier evens registers what he’s doing he’s crept into the hall and is retrieving your spare key from where you’d mentioned you keep it. He moves as quietly as he can- which, given his DEA training (and the fact that putting on shoes hadn’t even crossed his mind), is damn near silent. Especially to anyone not anticipating visitors.

The way to your bedroom is one he’s traveled countless times now. Drawn by the alluring sounds you’re making, he has to remind himself that you don’t know he’s coming, that he can’t just barge in.

Finally Javi reaches your half-open door- and the breath leaves his lungs at the sight before him.

He almost doesn’t want to stop you. Legs splayed, hips rocking steadily into your own hand, the other clutching the hem of the t-shirt you still wear. Your head is thrown back against the pillow.

“Javi, please,” you pant dreamily, eyes closed, lost in your fantasy.

Well, he can hardly deny such a request. Javier licks his lips. “Yes, Vecinita?”

Your eyes fly open and you squeak in shock at the sight of him, your body instinctively retreating from the unexpected presence in your doorway. Your thighs snap shut, but not before he’s caught a glimpse of what was between them. The evidence of your activities gleams on your fingers where they yank the t-shirt down.

“Javi!” You swallow hard. Your muscles relax as you recognize him, but you maintain your expression of wary confusion. “What are you doing here?”

His own posture is as casual as they come. Hands in his pockets, he strolls just a few steps further into the room.

“Heard you say my name,” Javier murmurs. He runs his gaze over you, languidly, like he’s got all the time in the world. Which he does, he supposes- it’s the middle of the day, and it would appear that neither of you have anywhere to be.

“Thought you might want some help.” When he looks back at your face, a subtle intrigue has joined the surprise there. Your eyes track him up and down in contemplation as he moves closer.

At last you lapse your protective position, stretching yourself out again and parting your legs slightly. You look at him from under your lashes. “I love having your help, Javier.” 

You still use his full name sometimes. He usually prefers his friends call him ‘Javi' (or ‘Penita’ if they must)- it’s the farthest thing from the curt ‘Peña’ he’s forced to be at work- but he finds himself unwilling to say anything every time he gets a tiny jolt at the affectionate way your mouth curls around ‘Javier’.

“Then why…” he stalks up to you on the bed, his movements decidedly predatory. “…did you start without me? Hmm, preciosa?”

The mattress dips beneath his hand as he leans over you, while the other gently cradles your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. You can’t help but turn your cheek into his palm; but Javi loves the way you shift further onto your back as he approaches, your whole body stilling under his commanding presence. He knows it’s not fear- it’s pure instinct, the way you arrange yourself for him, every muscle quivering in anticipation.

“I didn’t think you were home.” An excuse delivered with honest innocence. But your pupils dilate; your chin tips infinitesimally upward, your body’s every message communicating submission.

“Well then.” Javier leans down further so he can press his lips to yours, teasing them open with his tongue. Your limbs loosen, melting into the mattress the longer he draws out the kiss. You’re both breathless by the time he pulls away.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he whispers. Turning away from you, Javi grabs your desk chair and perches at the foot of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“…what?” All he’s done is kiss you and you already look consumed, eyes hazy with desire, lips parted expectantly.

Javi feels a prickle of pride at the effect he has on you, the curve of his lips revealing a hint of smugness. “You heard me.” He jerks his chin to the apex of your thighs, where only a tantalizing peek of what he wants is visible. “I want to know what you were thinking about. What you were begging me to do.” 

Almost of its own accord, his voice deepens to the gravely rumble it takes on during interrogations.

He’s pleased to see the quickening rise and fall of your chest, the not-quite-trepidation in your wide eyes. He reaches out to rest his his palm on your ankle.

Once you’d gotten over the shock of Javi’s unexpected appearance in your bedroom, you’d been excited. Coyly responding to what you thought had been an offer of assistance.

But then.

Then you’d heard that voice- that husky rasp, like his control was already half-gone. Which was also incorrect, you realize now, as you stare at him seated at the foot of your bed. Waiting. Watching you with those dark, penetrating eyes, half-shrouded by the turbulent light coming through the window behind him.

You shift slightly, aligning your body toward him. Still processing, but by no means saying no.

“You alright, Vecinita? Sounded like you were pretty close before I walked in.” Javier tips his head in a taunting smirk.

Your cheeks flame. You had been close, it’s true, and under his scrutiny now your body burns even hotter. It’s mortifying, electrifying, entirely more than you’ve ever experienced all at once.

You’ve never done this with him before. You’d guided his touch, yes, shown him what you liked, but never blatantly put on a show like he’s suggesting.

But you swear the heat of Javi's caress on your ankle crawls all the way up to your core. Possibly you should be embarrassed that such a tiny touch from him can provoke such a reaction, but all you feel is exhilarated, impossibly aroused by what you’re about to do.

Holding his gaze, you part your legs. Javier’s focus immediately drops. His attention is excruciating, but you slide one hand down and then back up your inner thigh, teasing. Your free hand grips your shirt again as you glide your fingers into your folds.

You think both of you might moan. Your head drops back on the pillow. “Javier,” you gasp, circling your clit.

“Tell me, Vecinita.” It sounds like the chair shifts.

“Fuck, Javi, wish it was your fingers.” You can barely get the words out, despite that he’s heard you say far filthier things under his influence. Already you’re even closer than before Javi’s arrival had stopped you, the muscles of your abdomen almost painfully tense.

If Javi responds to your cries, you don’t hear it. But you don’t need to. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you’re aware of him, a smoldering presence mere feet away from you. Fueling your own fire, an inferno burning brighter and brighter until-

You keen helplessly as the tension implodes, hips bucking, blissful relief rippling through you. You know that just Javier’s presence makes it better than if you’d still been alone, but your own fingers don’t feel nearly as effective after having his taking care of you for so long.

As you come down, you dare to look at him.

“Feel better, preciosa?” Javi is still smirking at you, but there’s something hollow in it now. His eyes rake over you with barely concealed hunger, his hand on your ankle gripping tightly.

When his gaze lands between your spread legs, you feel it as viscerally as any physical touch. Your floor muscles clench.

Abruptly Javi stands. “Take that off,” he orders, jerking his chin toward where your nipples are peaked beneath your stretched taut t-shirt.

Agitated air currents billow over you at his movement, raising shivery goosebumps on your naked flesh. But the feeling of exposure only lasts until the bed dips at your feet, and then Javier is crawling up your body, still fully clothed. The purposeful intent on his face makes your breath catch. He kisses you hard, but when your hands go to the buttons of his shirt he snarls.

He takes your wrists in one broad hand and pins them above your head. His hips crowd into the space between your thighs, and the weight of him settling against your body makes you whine high in your throat.

“I’m not done with you yet, Vecinita.” Javi's voice is deceptively soft. “Now that I know what you imagine me doing to you…” his hand releases your wrists and slides slowly down your skin, over every curve and contour of you. “…I intend to make it a reality.”

Javier shimmies to the side just far enough to slip his fingers between your legs.

Pleasure erupts at the press of his callused fingers, tearing a moan from your chest. 

Javi groans in satisfaction at the slickness he finds, greedily working it from its source up to your clit, following the same path your own fingers had taken mere moments earlier. Sweat prickles your hairline. You shudder as he flaunts his intimate familiarity with your body.

“Vecinita.” Javi’s face is as close to yours as possible for him to still be able to watch your expressions. You look up at his insistent tone- just as he sinks two fingers into you.

The breath punches out of you as your muscles seize. 

“My job now,” Javier tells you.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning like his bedroom eyes. Brown locks fall over his forehead as he unconsciously ruts into you in time with his ministrations. You tilt your hips into his hand, and only Javi’s mouth on yours muffles your moans as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. He murmurs, hushed and awestruck, as you fuck yourself against his hand.

“That’s it, preciosa.” Bliss rolls through you, unwavering as a rising tide. You’re helpless against the force of it, tingling and surging up your legs, pressure expanding between your hips- 

You come. Devastatingly hard, the weight of Javier’s body the only thing keeping you steady as you lose all sense of self to the blinding pleasure wracking your limbs. He works you through it, wringing every last spasm out of you until your cries fade.

But his movements don’t quite stop. His fingers still achingly slowly, his palm remaining an exquisitely careful pressure on your clit. You can’t seem to catch your breath- you’re so acutely aware of it, like you’re an engine left idling and Javi is keeping his hand on the throttle.

He brushes kisses over your face. His lips place softly on your brow, your nose, your cheek- until lingering at the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

“What else do you think of me doing to you?” The words seem to strike sparks along your bones. You inhale sharply at his implications. “Hmm? I can’t give it to you if you don’t tell me.”

God, what has gotten into him today? Simultaneously demanding and acquiescent, Javier’s voice is an insidious echo in your head. He twists his torso back and forth so his shirt scrapes against your nipples. You almost yelp as your reply bursts out of you.

“Your mouth! Your tongue. On my…” you trail off as he drags said tongue down your neck, doubtless tasting the sweat he’s worked you into. 

“On your…?” Javi exhales on the damp streak he leaves, and goosebumps spring up at the cool sensation. 

“You know where.” It’s a near-whisper. The place where you’re still stretched around him. Where the slightest shift of his wrist makes you tense.

You feel his smile as Javi plants a last kiss on your collarbone. He makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and growl as he works his way down your body, pausing only to nuzzle and nip at your breasts.

Thunder rumbles outside, closer and louder than it had been. You close your eyes at the sound, letting it wash over you like your partner's leisurely devotions. You can only relax so much, however, as your anticipation grows the further south Javier travels…until the flat of his tongue envelopes your clit.

You can sense his satisfaction at your choked whimper. Immediately he has to hold your hips in place to prevent them lifting off the bed as everything in you tightens again. Torturous slowly, his tongue moves, tracing every ridge and fold of your heat with meticulous care. Your thighs tremble.

“Fuuuuck.” It’s nearly a sob, your breathing ragged.

You swear Javi laughs, a smug wheeze in the back of his throat, and it’s as his tongue probes your entrance that you remember his fingers are still inside you. He spreads them so his tongue can slip into the gap, and the complementary sensations all in one place have stars wheeling behind your eyes. Javi definitely chuckles then, a vibration you can feel against your sex, and then his mouth returns to your clit. 

His lips, tongue, and fingers move with a single-minded purpose. There’s no holding back any of the sounds you’re making now, salacious moans spilling out of you, an obscene babble of pleas and praise. Javier breathes encouragement between your thighs. You glance down briefly while his eyes are closed in concentration, wholly focused on his task.

Your head spins. Already familiar tremors pull your muscles taut, Javi’s sweet, relentless attention breaking you down more rapidly than you thought possible. You’re going to come again, you know, long before it’s about to occur. You tell him, beg him not to stop, your release bearing down on you from across an endless distance.

This one shatters you. Your spine bows with the contraction of your muscles, pieces of you scattering far and wide as you splay back against the mattress. You surrender to the ecstasy barreling through you, barely noticing Javi’s wide brown eyes watching with rapt attention.

He brings you down properly this time, gradually, until the aftershocks fade and you’re squirming away from him. You remain sprawled how you are, limp and sated, as Javier crawls back up to you.

His lips touch your cheek. “Preciosa? Vecinita. You okay?” He sounds almost worried.

A breathless laugh huffs out of you. You lazily turn your head toward him, finally opening your eyes.

“I’m fine, Javi. More than.” You smile warmly, gratefully at him.

His eyes crinkle in response. “C’mere,” he says, relieved, gathering you into his arms.

You snuggle up to him willingly, humming in contentment. The thought drifts through your mind that now it would be nice for him to be wearing less clothing. But it doesn’t stop you from drowsing into his warmth as he strokes a soothing hand over you hair and back. After several long minutes, you find the energy to speak. 

“So…what was that?”

Javi doesn’t respond for several more moments, pressing his lips to your forehead as he thinks. Or maybe stalls.

“I…don’t know,” he admits, sounding sheepish. “…was it okay?”

“Mmm,” you affirm. You lift your head just enough to plant a kiss between Javi’s rumpled, parted lapels. “Very okay.” You can't help the faint heat in your cheeks, even though it's silly to blush at the admittance given everything you had just let him do.

“Good.” Javier squeezes you tighter. “because I meant it. Your pleasure is my pleasure, Vecinita.” 

Surprised, you look up at him. He returns your gaze steadily, his sincerity clearly visible even as he watches carefully for your reaction.

You may be talking about sex, but this is a declaration of sorts, for Javi. Hauling yourself up onto one elbow, you place your other hand on his cheek and press your lips to his. You let your affection surge forth, kissing him deeply and insistently, trying to convey without words how dearly you regard him.

You think he understands. He cradles the back of your neck, clutching you to him as the urgency of the embrace crests. 

Both of your grips relax naturally after that. He sighs into your mouth as you release him, but doesn’t let you move from where you’re half laying across him. 

“Stay,” Javi murmurs, draping his arms over your back. His eyes drift closed.

Happily, you indulge. You tuck your nose into his neck and breathe him in, already feeling sleep cloud your mind.

Soft as a shush, rain begins to fall.

--

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss, @remembertoreadthese, @knightowl247, @pamguini, @piscespussybabe, @chibi-liz05, @dragons-of-the-usa, @bethanysboooks, @layniapetrovnaaa, @1800-fight-me, @finnisrioting (your tag wouldn't work), @sarahjkl82-blog 

[ronnieiswriting]

BY DORNE PART 3

F!reader x Oberyn Martell No descriptive terms for reader, no use of y/n, EXPLICIT, ongoing

Part 1 Part 2

Important: set WELL before the events in Game of Thrones/ Book one of ASOIAF- King Aerys Targaryen is on the throne, Elia Martell is alive, Ellaria Sand is not in the picture (yet?) and Oberyn doesn’t have any daughters yet. As for the universe this is set in, Each major house (Starks, Tyrells, Arryns, Martells etc) are the families that run each region of Westeros but with a 70s backdrop instead of a high fantasy one.

The reader is Oberyn’s favourite arm piece- one he brings to lots of events. He’s known as the hungriest of all the Martells and he likes to prove that to anyone who might question that, therefore, its no secret that Oberyn has had a number of partners and sometimes multiple at once, men and women. Insatiable appetite aside, Oberyn hasn’t enjoyed spoiling any girl as much as he does you, and he’s set on keeping you around for as long as you can keep up with him.

TAGS!!: female masturbation (descriptions, references, partner watches), subtle power play, 70s circle beds, crotchless romper, lots of praise, implied oral f receiving, other sex acts implied/ referenced, feelings, a little bit of angst at the end. ENJOY (if I missed any tags pls let me know!!)

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

If you had expected any other words to be the first from your lover’s mouth the second he found you- after almost two months apart- you would've been disappointed. The first thing he had done, however, was pull you to him eagerly and greet your starved lips with a searing kiss. When you had separated only for the necessity of air, Oberyn had started remapping your body with his hands as if he had forgotten it in his absence.

You hummed against him, arms circling around his neck where his dark curls brushed against your skin. It had gotten longer since he had been away- you wondered if he planned to get it cut soon. “I missed you.” you told him, drawing in a breath of his cologne.

Oberyn groaned. “Honey, did you touch yourself?” His hands climbed up further, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts.

You nodded. “Of course I did. I missed every bit of you with every part of me.”

His brow creased in response. The world forgotten, Oberyn led you in the direction of his room. “How many times.”

You weren’t oblivious to the power you had over the man currently attacking your neck with desperate lips, and you couldn’t deny its effect on you- his effect on you- a welcome kind of intoxication. You gave him an answer, “I lost count.”

He nodded against you, lips dragging and stubble catching across your skin when he looked away to fumble with door handles. After he cursed them for sticking, he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll forget all about your fingers when I’m done with you.”

When he finally got the double doors open it was you that pulled him inside, slamming one shut again by shoving his back against it and the other with a kick.

He looked at you differently then- still like an animal of course- for you had never known the hunger running deep in his pitch black eyes to ebb its flow. But this look came when you would reach out and touch the power you had. And nothing needed to be said, no words to acknowledge the truth- the way Oberyn looked at you let you know exactly how he felt about you seizing power.

The hardening length of him pressing against the inside of your thigh also got the message across without spoken language.

You leaned into the sensation and ran a hand up his chest, along the thick chain of his heirloom necklace. Dropping your voice only slightly, you said “Why don’t I show you?”

Oberyn was leaning forward so far on the vanity stool that you were almost sure he’d fall off it and get a mouthful of the brightly coloured shag rug that covered one side of the room. He watched intently as you draped yourself over his circle bed, pulling back the sheer curtain on your way in a manner you hoped was seductive.

Since you knew Oberyn was coming back that day, you’d made a point to wear one of his favourite pieces- a slinky, lace romper with only a few skimpy panels of silk. Though, what he liked about it most (other than the way it barely brushed the tops of your thighs- and the fact that it was sinfully crotchless) was the colour; not the typical warm orange or bright yellow that the Martell’s so famously covered everything in. You were like a beacon in the room as soon as you took off the earth-toned dress you were wearing, capturing the man before you as he drank in the sight of the romper- rich, royal purple.

He had muttered something that sounded remarkably like an old Dornish verse at the garment, swallowed, and restrained himself to the seat where he adjusted himself shamelessly.

Once you had gotten situated against the pile of velvet cushions set up against the arched bedhead, you stretched for effect, reaching high so he’d get a good view of the way your pert nipples peaked against the fabric. Seeking the rush from his response, you looked at him through your lashes and let out the faintest of moans.

His full lips tugged up at that, edging impossibly closer to the foot of the bed. You found yourself wondering how he would look kneeling for you… another time, you thought.

When he smiled fully, you were unable to resist mirroring it. “Go on, baby.” he said, voice strained with admiration. “Show me how you missed me.”

You obliged him, edging a hand down between your legs that you parted wide for your man to see. When you reached your uncovered sex, your eyes locked onto Oberyn’s as you spread yourself open with your fingers and felt the wetness that had began to gather there. It started slowly, your digits easing the anticipation into a low pressure that made your entire body relax further into the plushness of the bed.

He praised the sight, “That’s it, honey.” and you agreed with a lazy hum.

For a few minutes, you were content with the languid pace at which you teased yourself, running fingers up and down your slit and coating your lips with your arousal. Sufficient pressure built, you tilted your hips towards him and pulled one fingertip over your clit. The pleasure was instantaneous but you resisted throwing your head back in favour of maintaining eye contact with the man at the end of the bed. You noticed that he had scooted the chair forward and contorted himself to be eye-level with your cunt, elbows on his knees, one thumb tracing his bottom lip as he drank you in. He began to compliment you again, “Sweet honey, you look so-” but you cut him off when you moaned his name- circling the bud again to the sound of his voice catching. Before you could hold back the flutter of your eyes at the sensation, you saw the devilish smirk that took to Oberyn’s lips. He repeated the sentiment slower this time and complete, matching each word to the tempo of your fingers, “Sweet, sweet honey. You look so fucking gorgeous.”

It was then that you were suddenly, painfully aware that the man who was so good at pleasing you was so close to you and yet wasn’t touching you- not his hands nor his lips or his cock. His tender words were nowhere near your ear and they weren’t kissed into your skin- it was as if he had become the presence you imagined when he was away. And while the both of you were so clearly enjoying the dynamic, it was an intense thing to act out what you had done to imitate his affections in front of him. There was a rush to it- something exciting about showing him how you could superficially replace him- and the powerful feeling you got out of it easily outweighed the frustration of not having him between your legs right then.

Oberyn seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. You coaxed yourself closer to release with one digit slipping just inside every few swipes. You could hear him through it, his voice harmonising with each breathy moan from you and it sounded like he was repeating phrases- thanking the gods for what he was witnessing, cursing himself for not coming back sooner, praising you, encouraging you- and you could tell he was dying to touch himself.

Though you had intended to watch him the whole time, your eyes kept rolling with the effort to chase a climax. Looking at him again, you could’ve pounced on him- he had shifted upright and was working idly at the buttons on his shirt, never taking his eyes off you. He noticed the way your attention drew to the tent in his pants because you showed your appreciation by wetting your lips and arching your back, fingers never stopping.

You moaned his name again and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to touch myself. To think I’d come in my hand when your pussy is right in front of me- now that would be an insult.”

You replied without thinking, “You don’t have to come- you--” you paused to squirm, finding a better angle, “You could just stroke yourself a bit?” You were offering him the chance to even the dominance, maybe even take all of it. You’d let him.

It was a vain effort and a suggestion he refused entirely. “If I’m going to make you forget about your fingers- I need to see what they can do, right? I need to know what I’m up against.” He returned to his previous position, chain swinging heavily into his bare chest, hands locked together on his knees and gaze set on your dripping centre. “Don’t let up, sweetness, okay.”

His words encouraged you to go faster still and you moaned louder. When you started to thrust two fingers inside yourself everything felt enhanced. Your feet slid against the sheet as you struggled to ground yourself through the rapidly increasing intensity and your gasping breath turned into a string of words, “Gods, Oberyn- I missed you so much.” and “Did this every night- in every room.” A feat you exaggerated a little- Oberyn’s mansion was a relatively small building next to the Martell manor but it couldn’t be called humble. Your whole body started to burn when you told him how you missed his cock.

He didn’t hesitate to rouse you further, telling you how much he missed you- namely, “Your sweet cunt…” You lost sight of him when your head finally fell completely back into the mass of pillows but his voice rang equally insistent and lustful. “You’re my best girl, honey.” he said as you continued to tightly swirl your clit. “My sweet lover- that’s it, baby- so good for me.”

Tantalizingly close now, you reached under the romper to flick your nipples, squeezing because you desperately craved the same level of stimulation he’d so often saturate you with. Chasing that feeling further, you tried to hit your clit with the thumb of the same hand you fucked yourself on but you couldn’t.

For a second you almost gave up and asked him to help you come- add a finger- anything. But he got you there before you could even get out a word or a pleading moan. Oberyn’s praises came again and he practically begged you to come for him. “Come for me so I can make you come again and again. Let me prove that I missed you... Come so I can fuck you so good you forget the entire world--”

Your climax came out with a choked sob and in a white hot flash that drained all the feelings in your body. All of you went limp but your chest heaved in the air. The bliss was incredible and well-earned but there was so much more to be had.

With the little energy you could muster, you beckoned to him with the same fingers you pulled from yourself. They were still glossy with your slick but barely had the chance to cool in the air as Oberyn’s lips quickly latched around your fingers. His tongue swirled to devour your spend and hungry hands roamed over your tired thighs that trembled in the aftershock.

Kissing your knuckles once he had licked you clean, he moved the same hand to the crown of his head and encouraged you to grab hold. He gave your other hand the same treatment before he moved his lips over your thighs, massaging the tension from them with the pads of his fingers. “My turn.” he mumbled into your skin.

By the time Oberyn had proved himself better than your fingers, the sky was beginning to turn purple with dawn. When he had found you that day it had been just after 10pm.

Somehow, though, whether due to miraculous pacing or because neither of you had so recently exerted yourselves, you and Oberyn were still wide awake. He emerged from between your thighs again- this time without a heavy pant or a shiny chin- with a washcloth in his hand. Coming up to sit back fully on his knees, he unashamedly looked you over.

The purple romper had been folded down around your waist and you were sure one of the straps were broken from the force it had been yanked down with. He smirked proudly at the number of hickies he had left all over your skin as many of them would be seen regardless of what you wore. “You look good.” he said.

Oberyn was quite a sight himself. When he removed himself from the bed to return the cloth to his ensuite, you admired the way his skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. His hair stuck out in every direction and before he disappeared behind the doorway, he rolled his shoulders and neck with a happy groan. You called out to him, “You make me look good.” Then, put off by the feeling of the lace against you, you kicked off the romper fully and stretched back out on the bed.

He replied, “I don’t agree with a single word of that, baby.”

When he came back into the room, you couldn’t help but admire the almost comical way in which he had shrugged on his favorite robe but not bothered with affording himself any more modesty in it than he had completely naked. You took the opportunity to ogle him openly, proud of the marks you had left on him and he wasted little time in crossing the room again to rejoin you on the bed. When he had gotten comfortable situated between your legs, this time on his back, with his head resting on your stomach and arms slung over your thighs, Oberyn looked up at you fondly. “I do think I proved myself though.”

“To who?”

That smug smile returned, “Well, to you.” Then he looked to think on it for a moment, pondering as his fingers drew half-thought images across the skin of your thigh. “Proved that I’m still good enough for you.”

You didn’t even bother to hold back from rolling your eyes. “You know that’s ridiculous, Oberyn.”

Oberyn nodded, warm eyes drooping before closing softly. “Mmhmm” he hummed.

It settled like that for a while. You stroked his hair, drawing more relaxed hums from him while a question started bubbling up in your mind.

You pushed it aside for a different one, “Why don’t we do something tomorrow?”

“Can’t, I’m afraid.” He sighed, “Doran wants me to come in first thing to review some clause in the trade documents with Lys- something about a weird shipment- it's all very complicated really. I’m sure he’ll find a way to keep me there longer too and spring more papers on me or something.” When he finished the silence started to sting. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I’d love to-”

You refused to let him get to the “but” in that sentence, “It’s okay--really! I mean we just did a lot… Maybe later in the week?”

Oberyn kissed your hand. He was visibly relieved of the tension diffusing between you.“You got it, honey.”

Oberyn left about an hour later, giving you a tender kiss on the forehead and the promise of “soon”. The warm spot beside you and the marks on you were the only tangible signs that Oberyn had even been there at all and you lamented the fact that they too would be quick to flee as the rest of him had.

You hated to pout but it was easy when your lover had barely spent a day with you before being snatched away again by something more important. Important, demanding or serious -any similar word- was more so because you were relatively less. You- unlike business or politics or events- could wait on his bed all day and night for his return.

Ultimatums weren’t known to be answered romantically every time. And you swore to yourself that you’d never force him to choose. Nevertheless, the seed of doubt had been planted and the casualness of your relationship with Oberyn nurtured it against your better judgement.

You stewed over these thoughts long into the morning, staring up at the canopy butt-naked.

He had told you something before he left for King’s Landing two months ago that you remembered suddenly. “... you are the reason I am going to rush back to Dorne.”, the unspoken idea there being that he would value your company above the general comfort of familiarity. You had almost told him then how you felt about him, but a nagging feeling had told you to hold it in and now you had to suffer under the weight of more doubts and insecurities.

Maybe if you had, he would have been able to clear up half of the doubts you were festering over- maybe he would have said he loved you too. It was a selfish thought but irresistible all the same and you were too quickly lulled into indulging in it.

[kiirokero]

Outro: Love Is Not Over (1)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids, 

Warnings: Don’t know if this counts but mentions of accidental pregnancies and shitty men. 

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

Previous / Next

“Congratulations! It’s a boy.” 

“I-Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s very healthy. Do you have a name in mind?”

“Yunho.”

“A very nice name.”

“Oh, he’s beautiful.”

“That he is. I apologize for asking, but you haven’t listed the father on his birth certificate yet.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“You’re aware what that means, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, Ms. L/n, I’ll leave you be now. Press the button if you need assistance. A midwife will be coming to see you shortly.”

      “Eomma, wake up!” A giggly voice called. The bed was bouncing up and down, pulling me out of my slumber. I couldn’t help but laugh along. “All right, Yunnie, I’m up.” Yunho chuckled and lent down to give me my morning hug. “Good morning, Eomma.” He sighed, his fluffy blonde tail wagging in content. “Good morning, lovely. Did you sleep well?” I wrapped my arms around him, bringing him in for a snuggle. “Yes! I had a dream about giant squirrels!” He exclaimed. I let out an exaggerated gasp, “You did?! That’s awesome.” 

      Yunho wiggled out of my grasp and bounded towards my bedroom door. “Come on, Eomma! I’m hungry.” I chuckled and got out of bed. “Alright, waffles or toast?” I asked while I grabbed my sweatshirt, pulling it on. “Waffles!” Yunho answered, racing downstairs to the living room. I smiled to myself, I couldn’t help the warmth in my heart every time I saw my son. 

     Yunho had short hair that matched mine in color. He also had my eyes. I could see little pieces of myself in his face and it always made me smile. I didn’t pay attention to the features he and his father shared, even if they weren’t many. The most prominent feature they shared being his ears and tail, but somehow, Yunho made them uniquely his. 

      He never like getting his fur cut, would always sulk about it afterwards, he likes to keep the fur on his tail long so either him or I could braid it. He thought braids were so pretty, so he would ask me to braid all of his hair, and eventually, he learned himself. His fur on his ears was less long because of my insistence that having heavy ears would impair his ability to lift them. He could lift his left ear, but not the right one. He’s been working on that. 

      So, even if he was his father's child, he was still just Yunho to me. That man didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Yunho has his button nose or freckles. It didn’t matter because Yunho was Yunho, and Yunho was the light of my life. He would run around the house non stop, bring me little rocks he found in the yard, draw pictures that had a special place on the fridge. Yunho was sunshine incarnate, and I couldn’t ask for a better son. 

      Downstairs, Yunho was sitting in front of the T.V, watching his favorite cartoon. It was about this hybrid boy and his best friend, who was human. Yunho said it was like him and I, that we were like the characters on screen, going on adventures every day. The sight made me smile yet again, and I went to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.  

     I could see Yunho from the kitchen since it was an open plan. Which wasn’t surprising because we lived in a small house. 2 bedrooms, 1 and 1/2 baths. It had a very large backyard that merged into woods. The area is pleasant, a little secluded, but that just gave Yunho more room to explore. The house got a lot of natural light with the large windows, and the air was always refreshing. 

      When I first saw the house, it was like a blessing. It was a little run down, but nothing I couldn’t handle, and it was cheap. A house being cheap should be a red flag, and it was, but it was worth it. The worst problem the house had was the hot water that ran out pretty quickly. In no way was it a luxurious mansion, but it was home, and that was all that mattered. 

     “Yunho! Come get your breakfast!” I called, placing his bright blue plate on the small dining room table we had. I heard his feet patter on the hardwood as he ran to the dining room. “Woah! Slow down, bub.” I chuckled. Yunho gave me a shy smile and sat down, immediately digging into his breakfast. “Is it good?” I teased, wiping away some stray syrup that threatened to end up in his hair. Yunho nodded enthusiastically, giving me a thumbs up. 

      We ate together with comfortable banter. Yunho was telling me about the latest episode of his cartoon, and I was more than happy to listen. The way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about something he loved was enough to make the toughest of men smile. “Eomma, can Hajun come over today?” Yunho asked in a hopeful tone. I thought about it for a bit, “I’ll call Aunt Hyejin and see if he can, okay?” Yunho brightened up and gave a little “okay!” In response.

     After we were done eating, Yunho put his plate in the sink and went back to watching T.V. I washed up the dishes and dialed Hyejin’s number. “Hey babe!” She answered in her usual cheery voice. I chuckled, “Hey sis.” 

      In reality, Hyejin wasn’t my sis or babe, but we were close like that. Hyejin was a Siamese cat hybrid that I met back in college. We were roommates, and we just clicked immediately. We were there with each other through everything. Shitty professors, family issues, breakups, shit men that make your life a living hell. She had her son, Hajun, a bit before I had Yunho, and helped me whenever I needed. 

      She and her husband, Yoongi, a Persian cat hybrid, were there with me through it all. They were the family I never had. Yoongi was like an overprotective older brother, and Hyejin was no different. They even helped me find Yunho and I’s home. We normally went on family trips to amusement parks or aquariums which the boys never seemed to get bored with. We were all one big happy family. 

     Yoongi and Hyejin were like polar opposites. Yoongi was chill while Hyejin was a bundle of never ending energy. Yoongi was quiet Hyejin loved to talk. Yoongi was an introvert, and Hyejin constantly dragged him out to parties that Namjoon, one of our mutual friends, had mentioned to her. It was funny to witness. Especially when Yoongi begged me to go in his stead, which worked 50% of the time.

      “So, what d’ya need? I’m all ears.” She snickered, and I could practically see her gray ears twitch. “Haha, hilarious. Yunnie wants to know if you guys can come over.” I answered. “Yeah, sure! We’re not doing anything today and I’ve been dying to talk to you about something.” She gushed. “Ooo, exciting.” I chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, babes. Love you!” I said I loved her back and hung up the phone. 

     Soon, Hyejin and Hajun arrived and the boys immediately began playing together. “Hey! So nice to see you!” Hyejin smiled, giving me a hug. “You too!” I was equally just as happy to see Hyejin since she and Yoongi had been a bit busy lately. We walked over to the living room where the boys were playing on the floor with their toys. Hyejin and I sat on the sofa and she immediately began talking. 

      “Okay! So, I’ve been dying to talk to you about this,” She started, already bouncing in her seat. “I can see that.” I teased, poking at her shoulder. “You know the job I was looking into? The daycare one?” She asked, and I nodded. “Well~ I got the job!” She exclaimed. My jaw dropped, a smile made its way onto my face. “No way! Congratulations!” I got up and squeezed her in a bone breaking hug, which she reciprocated. 

     “I know! I’m so excited!” Her tail was flicking behind her. “So, when do you start?” I asked, moving back into my seat. “Next week! I’m going to be the second teacher, helping someone named Mr. Jung.” She explained, and she went on to tell me how she got the job and how Hajun had asked if he could go, only to pout when Hyejin told him that he was too old. “I’m happy for you, Hyejin.” I smiled, excited that she was pursuing her dream of working with kids. 

      Hyejin, like me, got pregnant young and unexpectedly. But she was super thrilled. She didn’t care if she was only 20, she always wanted a child. She wasn’t married at that time, but Yoongi stepped up pretty quickly to raise Hajun with Hyejin. Yoongi was a cool dad, pretty laid back. Usually snuck the kids out to go get ice cream or pizza. Not that Hyejin or I minded, he treated both boys with the utmost care. He treated Yunho like his own son. 

      “So, have you met this Mr. Jung?” I wondered. “Not yet, but I had a phone call with him. Guess what? He’s our age.” She whispered, like what she was saying was some big secret. “Hyejin, we’re both 26, it’s not like a young teacher is unheard of.” I pointed out. “I know! But... What if he’s cute~?” She raised her eyebrows in a teasing manner, leaning closer to me. “I could be cupid.” She winked and I rolled my eyes. 

      “No thanks, Hyejin. I appreciate it, but love for me ended a long time ago.” I sighed and Hyejin huffed, dramatically slouching in her seat. “Y/n, just because... he... broke your heart doesn’t mean you should give up entirely.” She pointed out, looking at me with eyes full of undecipherable emotions. “Any man I date would have to be okay with being a father-like figure to Yunho. I’m 26 Hyejin, no guy my age wants kids yet.” I monotoned. 

      I had come to terms with the fact that most men didn’t want to date someone who already had a child. Not saying that it didn’t dishearten me a bit, but it was a revelation I made early on. If someone wanted me, they were going to want Yunho too. It either both of us, or neither of us. 

Yunho was my light, and he deserved a father that could be the things I couldn’t.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: iii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2   ||   chapter 4

word count: 4.2k

a cheeky drink and some mutual sabotage. 

warnings: oh no, they say s*x, fluff, pining, the usual, and a wittle angst on the side, reader smokes cigs bc its a salem trademarked fic thing

enjoy folks ;^) the whole of this piece is gonna be about? ten chapters. so. hold on tight!!!

beta read by @keiqos, heart EYES

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“Let that sit for a second or you’ll burn yourself—”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, angel. I know the drill.” Hawks replied with a wink.

You weren’t ever going to get tired of that.

You really expected Hawks to disappear out of your life. You really, truly expected him to run off for good. How many bigger, better, and more important things did he have to do? Even if you managed to speak to him and regard him like any other customer (or, perhaps acquaintance, and more recently, friend — ), your mind swam with insecurities that only seemed to get worse over time.

You were waiting for the metaphorical thread to snap.

You waited for the day Hawks simply would stop texting you flirty bullshit on a somewhat regular basis.

But, holy fuck, the dude didn’t.

 You couldn’t think of why. You weren’t complaining about the attention, but you also were terrified of getting too used to it. Hawks was a part... bird (?) right? He was flighty by nature.

Despite this, Hawks continued to not only text you but also stopped by the shop fairly frequently for his special, quirk-fueled beverage fix. Politely, he’d text you the day before he planned to make an appearance to check and see if you were working, and then show up the next day like it was nothing. 

He usually wouldn’t stay for long; the hero was ungodly busy and always on the move. But, he always took the time to flirt and get a full description of his drink before dashing out to save the world once more. 

Most days he visited were his ‘hero work’ days. He’d appear in his costume, done up and dashing for a sip and a quick talk before disappearing once more into the skies. Every once in a while, Hawks had an ‘office’ day where he’d be confined to his agency to catch up on his insane backlog of paperwork. On these occasions, Hawks would talk (stall) at the tea shop for as long as possible. You talked and joked with him as long as he would let you. Sure, it put you behind on work, but no one at the shop was going to tell you off for fraternizing with the number two hero (whose repeated presence was drawing more customers anyways). You both reveled in each other's attention, drinking in the other’s slowly softening smiles and quick wit. 

 On this day, Keigo’s wings were the shittiest they had been in a while. Plucked and almost barren with how much he’d been working lately. Total exhaustion seemed like it was constantly on the horizon, tugging as his eyelids and weighing down his chest each morning.

It was easier to get out of bed when he got to think about seeing you.

Sure, your drinks were a perk. Very much so. He was getting so used to the artisan beverages you crafted that the taste of his normal canned coffee was starting to bother him. 

But, what his real thrill in visiting the tea shop was that he got to see you, and that made his heart pound. 

He sat across from you, looking down into your newest drink. It swirled between dark and milky, a heady, rich aroma billowing up with the steam it produced. He had requested something ‘surprising, new, and horribly caffeinated’ as deep fatigue was the worst villain he’d likely see that day. You had just nodded, cheekily starting to prepare his drink with a bounce in your step, pupils going wide. 

“I feel like you’re gonna start running out of ideas one of these days,” Keigo laughed, adjusting himself on his stool, gloves and jacket removed. He almost looked like a normal patron.

 You grinned to yourself, idly cleaning around you as you often did, “I dunno, I’ve got a lot.”

Hawks raised an eyebrow, “Tell me about them.”

“Nope, top-secret,” You shook your head, digging into your apron to flash him the small notepad you carried on you.

Scrawled in nasty handwriting, you carried your many ‘feeling’ ideas around with you. Different concepts and abstractions all scribbled down, a nice long list to look back on whenever Hawks would make his appearances and his own vague requests. Your backlog of ideas made it easy to find something more than suitable to make for him.

When Hawks saw your notepad his eyes widened, tilting his head and a devious smirk coming to his lips.

Your expression fell, and you stuffed the papers back into your pocket, hiding your hot face by idly cleaning some more. 

You left yourself very open for teasing, it seemed.

(Not that you or Keigo minded.)

“You keep a little list of all of your ideas! I’m beyond flattered,” Hawks ran a hand through his hair, flashing a cocky smile for you. 

“I have to stay prepared, can’t be disappointing my celebrity sugar daddy,” You winked as Hawks’s eyes went wide, half-hearing a choke get caught in his throat. (You loved it when you were able to get him visibly flustered. What a treat.) You nodded down to the drink, “Should be good to try now.” 

 Keigo really liked spending time with you. He knew it was always fleeting and short and consistently he wanted to find reasons to stay with you at the tea shop counter for longer and longer. Your quips and chides continued to get quicker and more clever and he was having an increasingly difficult time keeping his cool around you. Most of the time he smoothed himself easily, not showing a trace other than that which he neurologically couldn’t control. 

But sometimes, you were bold enough and ballsy enough to get him to gag on his literal words and he was positive that you were the only person to ever have him break composure in such a way. 

He covered his weakened poise by sipping the new drink, mindfully letting the taste wash over his tongue.

Increasingly, you’d been changing up the so-called ‘vibe’ of your beverages. It seemed like each time Keigo dropped in, you had something new and vibrant to show him. 

This drink was particularly different.

The taste was rich, dark, and smooth, rolling into the back of his throat and down his spine. It coated his insides with a warm, low heat. Peeking through were sweet, light accents, warm but almost... teasing?

His dick twitched.

 Hawks’s mouth dropped open, any and all professional veneers dropped as you just beamed so fucking smugly at him. 

“What do you think?” You leaned a bit forward, bouncing on your toes with excitement.

“Is... Is this supposed to taste like sex?” Hawks asked, taking another mouthful to confirm. Based on the way his eyes briefly shut and some of the tension rolled from his shoulders, he thoroughly confirmed it.

“Technically, it’s crafted based on like... a late-night rendezvous. I left it fairly up to interpretation beyond that. The rest is on you.” You shrugged, still bouncing as Hawks took another chug.

“What the fuck, (Y/N),” Pleasant shock colored his features, but clear amusement stretched across his lips as he continued to drink. 

“You wanted something surprising and horribly caffeinated. That’s a dark chocolate mocha with two extra shots, our in-house raspberry and rhubarb syrup, a bit of white chocolate syrup, and a few of my add-ins as well. It’s pretty different from what I’ve made you before,” You blinked at him, stomach twisting as his expression remained unguarded. “I... I probably should’ve asked before giving you a drink that definitely could’ve been taken as sex. That’s my bad. I can remake you something else if you’d like?”

 Keigo shook himself from his stupor, shaking his head and quickly regaining his composure. He took another sip to emphasize his words, “No, nope. It’s okay. Definitely okay. The drink is really good. I’m just now wondering something.”

“And, what’s that?” You asked, reaching behind the counter to grab your own iced beverage.

“Can your quirk be used to manifest bad feelings and concepts, just like good ones?” Keigo asked. Normally, he’d add more nuance, but he was getting impatient and sloppy around you. He’d have to keep that in check.

Especially with the way your shoulders drew up and tensed. You turned a bit away from him, any and all potential for eye contact torn away.

He hit a nerve.

“The type of abstract feeling doesn’t matter, I can emulate it,” You replied, pulling at your nails. Keigo had long picked up that it was one of your habits when your anxiety spiked. 

He dropped it, but didn’t forget. There were public files on quirks. Maybe he’d look into it. Maybe. It felt a bit invasive, but considering plenty of that data was freely accessible, it hardly was an invasion of privacy, right? 

(Except for the fact that it obviously made you very uncomfortable to discuss the more unsavory potentials of your quirk.) 

(He just wouldn’t tell you.)  

Keigo switched topics, easily rolling away from the topic, “Any particular... event that inspired this one?” 

You pressed your hands into the counter, leaning over it to glare at him, “Are you referring to something with that comment, Hawks?”

He shuddered when you said his name, but you don’t notice. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Keigo shrugged easily, going for another sip.

 The drink was inspired by the several day cinematic, wine-bender you went on a week or two prior. An entire weekend with just you, your cats, three entire bottles of wine, and a backlog of movies to catch up on. You tried to consume lots of different types of media, but what had been catching your eye lately had been anything with gushy romance for fairly obvious reasons.

(There was an embarrassing amount of ideas for drinks that were a bit too romantic to properly indulge with your quirk. You’d never tested the limits of how certain feelings could manifest, and you weren’t quite ready to face the reality where you could make people nut from caffeinated milk.)

“It is good though, the drink,” Hawks smacked his lips together as if it would make his coming analysis more credible. “It definitely does taste like sex, but more so complicated. Darker.”

“Deeper.” You smiled. “Your palette is getting more refined. I’m proud.”

“Are you saying it was bad to begin with?” Hawks pouted, flashing you falsely weepy eyes and a puffed out lip.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, you yourself have admitted this. You drink canned coffee still, so I can’t even call your taste good.”

Hawks gasped, putting a hand to his chest, “I’m hurt, truly wounded.”

“I’m sure you are, tailfeathers.”

“I really thought I had reliably moved up to ‘birdboy’, angel.”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, “Just goes to show how quickly the tables turn, tailfeathers.”

Hawks’s pager suddenly chimed, a familiar sign. He took a quick look at it and sighed, moving to re-robe. You were surprised by the speed at which he did so, and the way he became tense so quickly. 

It made you realize that he was always tense.

(Unless he was talking to you.)

“I thought today was an office day?” You asked, a bit of a disappointment clouding your voice.

Hawks just gave a small smile, fully plastering back on his heroic facade, “Duty calls. Lots happening lately.”

He flicked his visor back over his eyes, slid you your normalized wad of cash, and whisked himself out the door, immediately taking to the skies from the streets.

He’s in a bit of a hurry.

He... didn’t even say goodbye. 

Wonder what’s happening?

 Truthfully, Keigo was a bit startled by the notice on his pager. The whole reason he’d started patrolling the particular neighborhood the tea shop was in was because there was word of a villain syndicate working nearby. It hardly seemed right for the neighborhood, but Keigo knew that villains hid anywhere. Whatever they were planning was still relatively shrouded, but it was clear that it needed to be treated delicately. That particular neighborhood was rife with pedestrians, businesses, and homes and any sort of villainous activity had the possibility of reaping a heavy amount of collateral damage. Keigo and the Commission had been on their guards about it, but things had been steadily becoming more intense over the past few weeks. 

Plopping himself on a rooftop, Keigo took up residence to stake out his newest lead, watching figures and silhouettes in a nearby office building.

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 Funnily enough, the rest of your week went horribly. Just downright shitty. You figured at some point, things would let up, brighten, but they didn’t. Each day brought some new, personal calamity. 

The first was a trip to the emergency vet with one of your cats after she swallowed a hair tie. An expensive vet bill later, she was perfectly healthy, but you remained wracked with anxiety. 

Another day, the owner of the tea shop paid a visit to chew you out for your newest tea blends not fulfilling his picky seasonal requests. You were relieved it had nothing to do with how Hawks monopolized your time. Still, getting yelled at easily within earshot of both coworkers and customers made your insides twists. 

The final small disaster was when a particularly asshole-ish customer chucked a hot drink all over you and your cute white sweater. One of the younger openers had been dealing with a difficult patron and an incorrect order, nothing out of the ordinary. When you tried to step in and de-escalate the situation, the man ripped the lid from his cup and splashed you with the burning liquid. You held back any sounds of pain even as your skin stung like hell when you offered to remake his drink.

One of your managers luckily allowed you to go home early. Thank god.

By the end of your shitty week, you fell into your apartment and just cried. White sweater stained and day feeling fairly ruined, you let yourself have a good, solid sobbing session to just release how terrible things had been. 

It would pass, you knew. But it sucked at the moment.

It also didn’t help that Hawks had been particularly absent after running out the last time he came around. He’d still managed to shoot you a funny text or two, but mostly, it was silence from him. You rationalized it by reminding yourself of how quickly he flew off at the end of his last visit, hero business forever more pertinent than you and the shop.

You reminded yourself to keep yourself grounded in Hawks obvious impermanence, even if you were starting to get used to (and really like) having the hero around. 

You decided that your Friday evening would be good. You treated yourself to a hot shower, noting with a hiss the pink scalded skin that covered your chest from your collar bones to just below your breasts. You threw on a facemask and uncorked a bottle of wine you had been saving for a rainy day. 

You clicked on one of your favorite shows, an older cartoon that brought you consistent comfort in times like those. Curled up with a knit throw blanket and your healthy cats, it did help soothe the burns, mental and physical.

That is until you got a bit too drunk on red wine and it turned into sad drunk.  

So, you made your way to the roof.

You weren’t fucked up beyond belief, despite the fact that you were towing an open bottle of red in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the left. The cold would sober you up, along with the nicotine. You hoped it would force you out of your head. 

Upon throwing open the door to your apartment complex’s rooftop, you were made very aware of its wintertime disuse. The gardens that grew during the summer were snowcovered. The chairs and tables for lounging were in a similar state. You didn’t mind. 

The view was still nice. 

You set down your bottle and zipped up your coat. Quickly, you brushed off the flurries from a rickety lawn chair and plopped yourself down. You threw on some music from your phone, playing some sweet, old songs that made your chest ache when you needed it to.

The city stretched in front of you, beyond the rooftop. You didn’t live in a particularly wealthy district, but there was no shortage of dazzling neon and bright street lights dotting the ground below. You watched how the rest of the city stretched far beyond your little pocket, still gleaming with multi-hued lighting and dazzling in the wash of the crescent moon.

You took a swig, fishing for your self-dubbed ‘sad cigarettes’ and lit up. With your exhale, you watched as smoke lazily swirled away, carried by the soft winter wind. If you were any less drunk, you’d be freezing.

A shadow, winged, fell across the snow. 

“You know, I get nervous when I see pretty girls on rooftops with bottles in their hands,” You jumped at the voice, whipping your head to the source.

Hawks stood, scarlet wings fanned outwards, on the lip of the rooftop. 

Your eyes widened.

You took another sip.

He gave an affectionate laugh, jumping down into the area where you were seated.

 Keigo had just been out on his normal, nightly patrol. The leak had been correct and he’d been stealthily tracking the villains while completing the rest of his hero duties. He was able to laugh off his exhaustion, but it was starting to eat him. Several cans of coffee a day was hardly doing it for him. He hid his sleepiness and aches well, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult. All the same, his typical roles had to be fulfilled. 

He was surprised to see you, all alone on a rooftop with a lit cigarette between your fingers. Keigo let himself be surprised before noting that ‘ yes, you definitely probably live in this apartment building and you’re just outside to smoke’, but the sudden jolt of panic he felt was crushingly unbearable. 

Mostly because it was personally protective and not heroically instinctual and he couldn’t start acknowledging that aspect of his feelings for you. Not yet. 

Keigo walked towards you, asking, watching you blink blearily at him “You doing alright?” 

Eyes downcast, you shrugged, “We all feel shitty sometimes. Just depends on how you cope, ‘ya know?”

“And how do you cope, (Y/N)?” Keigo asked, pausing before brushing off a chair. “Mind if I join you for a bit? I could use a second to rest my wings.”

You nodded, almost offering him the bottle, but quickly pulling it back to your chest before taking another inhale. Offering a pro hero alcohol while he was pretty obviously working seemed like a bad move, even in your tipsy state. 

“Most of the time, I watch nice stuff and distract myself, like most people, ya’ know?” You exhaled as you smoked, relishing the nicotine buzz. “Sometimes, though, I just feel extra shitty and need to extra cope.”

Hawks hummed in agreement, sitting back in the chair. His wings were folded up and over its back, the longest feathers trailing in the small snowdrift behind him.

“Do you get cold, being in the sky all the time?” You asked, eyes going cloudy as you stared up at the lights of the city and higher into the sky. 

“Most of the time,” Hawks chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head, “I’ve told you this, angel. It was one of our first conversations.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, mouth open with a hearty laugh.

 It made Keigo’s eyes water a little. He blamed it on the wind. 

 “I’m silly, I can’t believe I forgot,” You nestled back into your chair, tracing the lines between constellations. “It’s the whole reason you came to the teashop in the first place.” 

Your voice resonated, focus foggy. Somewhere else, old memories played in your mind, recounting your first few meetings with Hawks.

A warm, small smile stretched across your face as you traced the stars. 

 Keigo watched, enraptured. You were cute, especially like this. All bundled up in your winter coat, half-zipped. There was a lot less stress in your shoulders than he normally saw at the shop, especially as your thoughts were so far away.

He wanted nothing more than to commit the contours and shadows of your face in the white moonlight to memory, never forgotten in the blissful cold. 

 You interrupted his thoughts so beautifully.

 “Thanks for talking to me.” You took a sip from your bottle just after speaking, half-drowning your words, but Keigo caught each one. “I appreciate you.” 

“P-pardon?” Keigo couldn’t tell if you caught his stutter, but even if you did, you didn’t show it. The comment felt like a jab to his jaw, half-knocking the wind of him and turning him into a filthy masochist. He’d take any whiplash if it meant you saying such kindnesses to him. 

How could you just say shit like that?

What exactly did you mean by that?

Why did your attention make his legs tremble?

You turned your attention from the night sky to Hawks, something like uncertainty bubbling in your chest, “I appreciate you, ya’ know? Coming by the tea shop still, teasing each other and shit, you humoring me—”

Hawks interrupted you, feathers tensing at his back.

“I’m not humoring you.” Hawks deadpanned, staring at you oddly seriously. The yolks of his eyes seemed even more intense in the neon and night light. 

“You’re... not?” 

There was utter disbelief in your voice, accented by the way your jaw was half-opened.

Hawks shook his head, standing in emphasis, feathers fluttering as he did, “ No, angel. Not at all. I visit because...”

I like you.

“Because I like your drinks.”

  Because you make me feel good in a way I’ve never felt.

“You’re fun to talk to, too. Added perk.”

  Because I want to hear your voice when I breathe and when I die. 

“I enjoy it, you know? You're fun.”

 Some feeling in your chest, something full of hope, crushed itself and compacted to the point of pain. You sniffled at his admission, blaming it on the cold. In a fucked up, sad way, part of you was so relieved. 

He likes the shop. He likes your drinks. 

He’s around because he wants to be. 

But not because you’re special to him. 

 His words reminded you of your insignificance in Hawks’s life. No matter how much you craved his attention and words, and more recently found yourself staring at the plumpness of his lips and the curve of his cupids bow and daydreaming about how much you wanted to lean over the tea shop's counter and kiss the constant, teasing smile off his face—

But.

You don’t matter that much to him.

Sure, he likes you, but he’ll never feel the same way about you. 

 You made the decision then to make the most out of Hawk’s affections and sweet words. You’d take what you could get, even if it was fleeting and probably  eventually heartbreaking. It seemed smart, to refuse to get your hopes up for someone so unattainable.

 You let out a shaking sigh, “Thank you, Hawks. I appreciate you coming around. You really light up my day.”

 Keigo saw the fall of your face and bottled himself up. Shoved down everything. Fuck his feeling, fuck how he felt about you, this was all fucking terrifying. It was getting to be too much and he had to try and control himself.

Just like he’d been taught so well.

He was just so happy to be around you. He could squash his feelings, even if they were fairly obviously somewhat mutual. God knows that he didn’t know how to handle anything like that.

On the gods, his pager beeped.

 “Duty calls?” You said, standing up yourself and brushing off the stray snowflakes. 

“Seems so.” Hawks sighed, nodding, “Thanks for letting me rest here. It was good to see you, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You waved goodbye as Hawks disappeared as quickly as he came, launching himself from the roof with the heavy sound of wing beats. 

Soaring away, Keigo risked a final look at you. He swore he saw tears in your eyes.

He forcibly repressed his feelings, reminding himself that your company, words, and quirk-made beverages were more than enough. The flutter in his chest when he thought of you wouldn’t rest, but he could learn to ignore it. 

 On the roof of your apartment, you felt fatigue in your bones and wetness on your cheeks. You ignored both in favor of smoking another cigarette, soft, melancholy music being your only constant, reliable companion. 

You reminded yourself that he, Hawks, was a temporary fixture, more flighty than most and liked you just enough and for surface-level reasons. You could take that. You’d do anything to be around him more, even if it never amounted to anything. 

You, just as Keigo did, pressed down any larger feelings.

 (The thing about feelings, though, that neither of you was very good at remembering, was that they don’t go away. Sure, you can let them go, but that takes time or a practiced mind!)

(When you take feelings, big, aching, soaking feelings and shove them down into the deepest parts of you, they just tend to make you bleed. The ‘hidden’ feelings color your blood as it spills, even if you don’t notice when it falls and its change in hue.)

(One can only hope that both Keigo and you listened instead of lied.)

 Both of your hearts ached, and neither of you fully understood why.

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Star Wars: The Book of Boba Fett

If there's one character that has one of the biggest fanbases of all time its Boba Fett. The man only had so much screen time in the original Star Wars film trilogy and barely any dialogue and yet, his legend grew into a sprawling adventure across comics, novels and video games. He got the best treatment in the Clone Wars animated series and he finally made his jaw dropping live action return in season 2 of The Mandalorian. Now comes his own spinoff series and for the most part it was fun and fascinating. It answers so many questions right from the opening scenes and gives the character a new outlook on his life as he learned how to become civil again. I was a fan of Boba, but not a massive fan. The Clone Wars made him interesting and his return on Mandalorian made me all the more excited. The tone was set from the wise choice of a slow burn and as the series progressed, you get to experience his rebirth. The problem this show had was that it lost its goal of being about Boba and ended in a crescendo that felt flat. Don't get me wrong, I had fun watching this series with all the exciting reveals and a debut of another favorite character but I felt that once episode 5 hit, I felt the series was stolen from him. Now I'm gonna spoil a few character returns going forward, but it won't be plot reveals though. I can't talk about this show without talking about the characters. So if you haven't watch the show yet and you don't want to get spoiled, stop here.

Temuera Morrison returns as Boba Fett and he was excellent. He brought humanity to the character that wasn't ever there before. The amount of emotional depth behind his stoic expressions and dialogue delivery was impressive. Ming-Na Wen reprises her role as Fennac Shand and she is even more dangerous and awesome in the show. She remains the badass we know and her bond with Boba was the highlight of the show. We get to see her strategic mind at work and how it benefits those closest to her. Jennifer Beals was good as the Twi'lek that runs the local cantina, Garsa Fwip. She represented the more regal side of Tatooine and she was very welcoming. David Pasquesi was hilarious and fun as Mok Shaiz, the Twi'lek majordomo to the Mayor of Tatooine. He easily could've been the most annoying and weakest parts of the series, but there was just enough of him spread about that he doesn't over stay his welcome.  Pedro Pascal returns as Din Djarin / The Mandalorian and he was awesome. I loved seeing his story progress from where we left him in his own show. The friendship that was forged with him and Boba comes back in full force and they were awesome together. Amy Sedaris returns as Peli Motto and it was great to see her, but I think she was too much at times. I didn't mind the bite size moments we had with her in the beginning, but man did she kind of kill the mood at times. Timothy Olyphant returns as our favorite sheriff Cobb Vanth and he was just as silky smooth. I loved seeing his moral compass keep straight and not go down an easy path of darkness. Now there are alot of returning characters, surprise cameos and of course one debut that had me screaming with joy. My favorite bounty hunter of all time makes his live action debut and brings out the terror and gravitas of the show. Cad Bane makes his on screen debut and Corey Burton voices him once again. He terrified me to no end and his quick draw fight was the best I've seen in a long time. His scenes are the western aspect of Star Wars incarnate and a love letter to the Spaghetti Westerns of old.

The theme for the show was expertly done by Ludwig Göransson and it was perfect. The series score was composed by Joseph Shirley and I loved it all. The tribal tones that were used in the Tusken Raider scenes and the overall scope of it was that much more impactful and warm. My favorite piece is called "The Ultimate Boon". It plays once Boba makes his gaffi stick and it is one of the most intimate and beautiful moments of the show and one of the best episodes. There are many problems the show has and they all become clear when Din Djarin shows up. Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing him and Boba reunite, but it took away from Boba's story in so many ways. I loved seeing Din's story continue and eventually sync up with Boba, but it was so distracting and I personally felt that episode 5 and 6 could've been apart of Mando Season 3 instead of stealing the spotlight from Boba. The finale was awesome with all out action, but by the end it felt empty and rushed. Overall I enjoyed this show, but it felt like halfway through the show it had an identity crisis of what it wanted to end up being. It could've been The Sopranos of Star Wars, but missed its chance. Maybe a second season will help bring it to its full potential. Let me know what you thought of the show or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[n0wornever]

Meet Cute (pt. 2) - Luke Patterson x Reader

Read Part 1 here

So....I got a little carried away with this. If you don’t like it, pls don’t ever tell me lolol (also, yes, the lyrics included are Miss Taylor Swift’s)

Y/N placed her bag down at her usual table. She took a look around the room, trying to draw as little attention as she could as she looked around the room for those hazel eyes. Unsatisfied with her assessment, she sits down at the table and opens her book. 

Within a second, a soft voice tickled her ear. “Looking for someone in particular?” She felt her ears burn as he giggled softly close to her face. 

She turned to be met by the smiling barista, coffee splattered all over his apron and flour attached to the sides of his arms. She tried her best not to smile too quickly back at him, tucking a piece of her falling hair behind her ear. 

“Nope.” She stated, scrunching her nose up at him. He rolled his eyes, leaning on the table in front of her. 

“Well are you going to order something or do you plan on freeloading all afternoon?” She popped her jaw as his eyes bulged, raising his eyebrows at her. 

She set down her book and placed her hand on her chest, mouth ajar in his direction “Not with this kind of customer service.”

His smile grew even wider as he shooed her gaze off of him with the towel in his hand. He slid the open chair toward her, sitting down and leaning his elbow on the granite below. 

Can I at least get a chai ready for you, miss comedian?” 

She brought her finger up to her face, tapping her cheek a few times before nodding. She moved to grab her wallet out of her bag, but by the time she did, he was out of sight. 

She leaned over to look at the bar, where she saw him running quickly to the machine, booting his coworker off of it with a push of his hip. She smiled dreamily as he worked quickly, steaming milk, and then flipping over to the other side to start steeping the tea. He eventually poured something into an orange mug with a smile on his face. She watched him carefully sprinkle cinnamon on top of it, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he did. As his eyes moved away from the cup, she leaned back over to face forward at the table and lifted her book to her face again. 

It took a few seconds for him to walk over to her table. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the words in front of her until the glass actually hit the table. She lifted her eyes to meet it with a small smile. She looked up to see him beaming down at it with his hands out.

“Ba daaaa…” He said with jazz hands shaking at his creation.

“Thank you,” She said simply, picking her card up from the table next to her “How much do I owe you?”

He shook his head “I get a free drink a day, this one is yours.” 

She frowned at him, pushing the debit out toward him. “No, Luke come on…” He rose his hands, refusing to take the card from her once again. She moved her feet, preparing to get out of her chair but Luke took off on foot back toward the bar. 

She looked down at the ground, shaking her head before rotating back to her book. She leaned over to her bag, pulling out her pencil and tucking it behind her hair. She had created a habit of spinning her shoulder-length hair around writing utensils to make a makeshift ponytail. She pressed down on the middle of her bun to make sure it was secured before bringing her hands back down to the table. She chewed on the middle of her lip as she finally dove into her first poem of the evening. 

A moment passes before her phone buzzes against the table. She finishes the line she’s on before picking it up. She looks at the message from an unknown number with furrowed brows. She swipes it open, eyes falling on the word “purple.” 

Unknown: “Hey purple, it’s your favorite barista.”

She smirks down at the device, quickly typing her response. “Shouldn’t my favorite barista be working and not texting customers?”

Unknown: “Yeah well...we’re dead and I want to talk to you without being whipped by my boss again.”

She giggled, her mind falling back to the sound of the towel slapping back and forth on the barista’s back. “You are making it quite difficult for me to focus on my reading….” 

Unknown: “So studious. I guess we can talk later. :(“ 

She rolled her eyes, not responding to his pouting. She placed her phone face down on the table and gripped the book in her hands once again. 

Y/N eventually finished the book in one sitting, with extra time she planned to spare. She pulled out her notebook from her bag and flipped to a fresh page. She leaned over to rummage through her bag for another pencil. She felt her hair collapse around her face and sat up straight, she turned to see Luke holding up the purple mechanical pencil in his hand as he hovered over her.

“Need this?” He winked in her direction, his eyes drawing over her features. “I think I like your hair better down anyway,” 

She pulled her curls behind her ears and shook her head up at him as she reached for the writing utensil.  

“Unbelievable,” She muttered.

A smirk reappeared on his face as he held out the pencil, shaking it between his fingers. She reached over and he caught her wrist with his free hand. She tried and failed to hold back the audible gasp that came with his sudden touch. He flipped her hand over, place the pencil in it before closing her hand around the small object. He placed his hand on top of hers for a moment before letting her go.

She turned back to face forward, hoping the growing redness on her face and ears weren’t as apparent as it felt. He slid into the chair in front of her, catching her eyes again. He set his elbows on the table and leaned his chin in his palms. 

“So you’re actually writing tonight?”

“Are you on break?” She rose an eyebrow at him. 

He shrugged “Kind of?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. He was unbelievably determined. She watched as his eyes fell to her open notebook and back to her eyes. 

“What are you writing.” 

She sighed, tapping her pencil on the table. “That’s the problem, I’m not sure yet.”

He nodded, propping his hand under his chin as he looked over in the distance. Almost as if a lightbulb turned on in his brain, his expression changed to one of excitement. “How about I help you?”

She shook her head “You’re going to get yourself fired if you just sit here and try to help me brainstorm…” 

He laughed again, digging into his pocket “I’m not going to just sit here….I have…” He pulled out a square piece of paper and pushed it over toward her. She stared at it for a moment before looking up at Luke in confusion. He lifted the paper into his hands and unraveled it, pressing the open paper to the table before pushing it over to her once more. She read through the chicken scratched lines as he spoke to her.

“These are lyrics I started writing last night. Maybe you could respond to them?”

She rose an eyebrow “I don’t write music.” 

Luke scoffed, rolling his eyes at her “I meant write-in in your medium of choice. Write a poem or just a few statements in the way that someone may respond to what’s being sung.” 

She moved the paper back toward him “Luke I can’t just take your work like that.” His hand moved to cover hers as his smile grew.

“I want you to take it, use it if you can. I’ll be waiting…” He stood up from the table, running over to his very unenthusiastic coworker. 

She held the paper in both hands as she started to read the lyrics. She felt her heart pick up even staring at the writing, feeling like she was reading directly into someone’s diary. 

“And you stood there in front of me just, Close enough to touch, close enough to hope you couldn't see what I was thinking of. Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile.”

There was a large space between paragraphs. He must have pieces missing still, she thought. She let her eyes fall to the next line, a small smile forming on her lips. 

“I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild. Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, its just wrong enough to make it feel right. And lead me up the staircase, won't you whisper soft and slow? And I'm captivated by you baby, like a fireworks show.”

Y/N sat there in awe as she read through the short lines over and over. Whoever Luke was talking to, he was really in deep. His cool demeanor didn’t give away this kind, vulnerable sound that came through his lyrics. She tapped her pencil as she began to think thoroughly about these short lines. 

Luke has to be extremely infatuated with this love interest he’s writing to, she decided. So she decided to write from the perspective of the girl, who is hesitant to be as confident about the possibility of a relationship budding between them. Her hand wrote frantically across the page as her mind ran wild. 

“The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm, and I'm a house of cards. You're the kind of reckless that should send me running, but I know that I won't get far.” 

She thought these lines might sound a little corny, but she loved it already. She sat and gazed over at Luke at the counter. He was already leaning over the ice cream area, smiling in her direction. She shot him a quick smile, looking into his brown-green eyes before looking back at the table and putting the pen to paper again. 

“Get me with those green eyes, baby as the lights go down, give something that'll haunt me whenever you're not around, 'cause I see, sparks fly, when you smile.” 

She wanted to go a bit deeper than the fluff, so she concentrated on the next part being the girl’s nerves. She’d never felt like writing had ever come this simply to her, practically overflowing in her mind before she’s able to capture it in words. 

“My mind forgets to remind me, you’re a bad idea, You touch me once and it's really something, you find I'm even better than you, imagined I would be. I'm on my guard for the rest of the world, but with you, I know its no good. And I could wait patiently, but I really wish you would.”

She decided to end it with a call and response to Luke’s initial lyrics, rewriting “Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk take away the pain 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile.” 

Y/N put down her pencil and read it back a couple of times and she couldn’t help but beam at the paper below her. 

“Is it going well?” A voice boomed over her shoulder, causing her to jump up in her seat, hearing a familiar laugh behind her. 

She turned to him with wide eyes “Do you ever like to enter a room quietly?” He shook his head at her, the two laughing together as Luke took a seat at the table. He put his hand out toward her notebook. 

“Let me see what ya got, Y/N.” 

She hesitated, playing with the red ribbon that sat in the middle of the page. Luke’s face softened as he noticed her anxious tick. “I promise I won’t judge, and if I do...you have every right to never speak to me again.” She sighed, meeting his eyes, Luke’s teeth atop of his bottom lip. “Y/N, I understand how vulnerable creative work can be, I promise you...it’s between you and me.” his finger pointing back and forth between the two.

Y/N gave in, sliding the notebook his way and bringing her eyes to the ceiling. She didn’t want to see his reactions quite yet to her quick writing. She’d had only an hour to start scribbling, so she wasn’t convinced that it would drop jaws. Her internal monologue was stopped by her eyes when they looked over and saw Luke’s wide smile as he ran his eyes down the paper. She let them linger there for a while, taking in his animated expression. He looked up at her for a moment, the smile staying put before he darted back down to her words. He pointed to a specific spot on the page and brought his gaze back up to her again. 

“I'm on my guard for the rest of the world, But with you, I know its no good.” He sang quietly, his eyes fixated on her face. He spun around in his chair before he opened his mouth again.

“Y/N, this is so good. This...is music. At least to me. I can hear this.” 

She knew her face was a perfect shade of pink by now, but she tried to ignore her elevated heart rate as she asked him a question. “You, you mean that?” 

He nodded “You have to sing this with me.” 

She shook her head profusely “Luke, oh no, absolutely not.” 

He giggled, touching her hand again. “Come on Y/N. My house isn’t far from here and I’m off in 10 minutes. It could be as private as you need it to be.” 

She thought about her former voice lessons, her years of choir and her short time in the drama department. She wasn’t a terrible singer. For some reason, the mixture of her finally being able to put something on paper and the way Luke was looking at her right now made her want to say yes, so she did. 

She finally nodded his way, whispering a quick “....okay.”

Luke’s smile grew as he stood from the table, “Wait for me here, I’ll be done in a few.” 

She spent the last 10 minutes painstakingly over-analyzing every single possible situation that may come from this encounter. She was about to be alone, with a boy she’s met all of two times, giving one of the most vulnerable parts of her to him. What if he hated it and never wanted to see her again. Did she want to see him again?

What was happening to her? She tried to focus on the lyrics/poem or whatever she’d written. She started to hum along to a line to calm herself down as she waited for Luke to finish. As soon as she’d hit her second stanza, a hand touched her shoulder. 

“Let’s get out of here.” He said, pulling on his coat. 

She got up out of her seat, placing her notebook in her bag and throwing her coat over her body. She followed him out the door into the cold autumnal air. He turned to her, pointing to the left side of the lot. 

“Ride with me? I’ll bring you back to your car later.” She nodded at him, following him across the street. 

As she got into the passenger side seat, the smell that wrapped around her felt familiar. It smelled like him, like dark woods and coffee mixed together. She took a silent breath in, exhaling as he got in next to her. 

“You okay?” He asked, putting on his seatbelt.

“Just preparing for my 9 p.m. news abduction story.” She said, grabbing onto the handle near her chair. 

He pursed his lips together, obviously holding in laughter as he put the car in drive. He pulled out of the lot and onto the road quickly. As they moved past homes and office buildings, Y/N brought her attention out toward the window. She listened to Luke’s light humming as she took in what passed them by. 

He turned onto a street lined in trees that were shedding their summer green. She almost wanted to take a shot of the leaves, but she didn’t want to feel invasive. Instead, she mentally took note of their beauty, something she’d hope to at least get to write about later. 

Luke hopped out of the car quickly, lightly jogging her side to open the door. “Ma lady,” he slightly bowed at her and she rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car. 

He walked next to her toward the wooden door with a large wreath hanging upon it. Shades of yellow and orange and green sprinkled around it. He put the key in the door and guided her inside. The place was quiet. Table set, rooms clean but no sight of anyone around the first floor. 

“Where’s your family?” She asked.

He held his hand out to take her coat. “Dunno, probably at one of our relative’s houses. It’s poker night.” She shrugged off her jacket, placing it in his palm. 

He pointed at the stairs “Let’s go to my room.” She followed his lead up the winding stairs. He moved toward the door straight in front of them and spun the handle open. He gestured her in first, and her eyes met walls of musical artists and ticket stubs. She turned in a circle, taking all of it in. 

“Pretty sweet, huh?”

She smiled at him “Quite a collection you’ve got.” He held her gaze for a moment before walking over to his guitar stand. 

“Here’s my baby, let’s get to singing!” He ran his fingers down the strings once before sitting back on his bed, tapping the spot next to him for her. 

She moved slowly, sliding next to him and leaning back on the wall. She handed him her notebook and he strummed away as he looked at their combined words. Y/N watched him in awe as he combined words and melody in front of her. Her eyes fixed on his closed expression, shaking his head enthusiastically to the notes he played.

He smiled back at her, laying out some poorly drawn notes on paper in front of them. “Okay, so I already had something in mind for this piece. Let me know if you need any help as we go through this.”

He started to play the opening notes, leading up to the first verse she came up with. He hummed his thoughts on the first stanza, and then looked at her, nodded her along. She tried to avoid looking at her shaking hands as she quietly repeated that first line. His warm grin boosted her confidence, next coming in stronger and the following even brighter than before. 

As they hit the chorus he counted down from three for her and then they sang together. “ Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk take away the pain 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile.” His velvet voice eased her worries as they continued down the page, eye contact staying consistent.

By the time they got to the end, Y/N and Luke were simply looking at each other as his playing faded out into the background. His gaze always made her a bit on edge, but the way he looked at her right now, with that dreamlike trance, was enough to make her feel like the room was spinning. She finally diverted her gaze from his to look out his window and she heard him exhale.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” She said lazily, letting her eyes slowly migrate back to the bedframe he laid against. He set his guitar to the side and moved over to the edge of the bed near her. She watched as he slid his hand closer to her, inching it toward her own. When he finally closed in, his grip was soft and gentle, bringing his fingers between hers. She looked up to meet his eyes, trying to dissect what he was doing. 

She watched as his body leaned in toward hers. She felt her breath hitch at the proximity. Finally letting her gaze meet his. She watched as his gaze moved from her lips to her eyes a few times before he closed the distance, hand reaching for her neck. She shut her eyes, leaning into him as their lips moved together. As they pulled away, his dark eyes glistened at her.

“Like music.” He repeated, touching her cheek gently.

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