#I hope one day she wakes up and realizes her sucked her dry and now has no one to turn to bc she made sure to bitch them all away

[agents-are-dicks]

Me being a bitch (waayyy more drama in tags):

Decided to stop all the petty shit and actually text my cousin to explain things and have an actual conversation and the bitch laughed at me so I’m officially done with her royal highness

[imdumbhi]

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴,

summary: You save her life and from there, it went all down hill.

pairings: Mizu x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, no nsfw

a/n: hellooo, this is long. i hope you enjoy!

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Red splatters upwards from your lips as you laid on your back on the snow. You can feel your back drench and cold. It’s not comfortable but who cares when you have a sword sticking out of your stomach.

“What did you do?!” It’s Mizu, she hovers above you, her hands shaking slightly at the sight of blood everywhere. You take notice, as you gaze up at her weakly, her orange lenses are no longer sitting on the bridge of her nose and you think, how beautiful her eyes are even as she’s crying.

Wait, why is she crying?

A pair of hands grab at your barley conscious face, forcing your body upwards into her arms and you feel yourself become limp. You hum softly in content knowing you will die in someone’s arms but Mizu isn’t just someone — you love her.

It’s a secret you kept from the samurai and you vowed to yourself to never reveal it once you realized. It was when you first spotted her walking the streets of your village and thinking to yourself, how odd. You remember watching her closely, her tall figure mysteriously hidden and guarded. What caught your eye was the sword hanging by her hip.

Taking the risk, you decided that it would be a great idea to approach her. Even if it meant putting yourself in danger. When you did, you can’t forget how her face looked baffled and confused.

She disliked you at first, it sucked because Mizu didn’t give you a chance of day. She kept her distance and made no sign of interest getting to know you. But you on the other hand did wonder about who she was. Who is Mizu? Where did she come from? Did she still have a father? Mother? Question after question, you almost got your hopes up. Then that completely changed when you first looked into those blue eyes and saw her naked body at the waterfall that one time.

You begin to see Mizu slowly lowering her guard around you, the woman even engaged in conversations between you and Ringo. Mizu could be mean, could be sarcastic, and a complete jerk but that sacred smile of hers always made up for it. But your favorite thing about her is when her blue eyes shine when she laughs at your stupid jokes.

Oh, how pretty she is.

Your tired eyes gaze up at her face again, you see those sad teary blue eyes staring right back at you, your fingers itch to smooth away the line between her brows.

You want to tell her not to be sad, to tell her this isn’t over and that all will be fine.

“…please, don’t you dare die on me…” Her voice sounds far away now.

Is this the end?

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The smell of tea wakes you up.

Eyes shoot open, quick to take in your surroundings and you see a dark sky. The crackling and popping comes from somewhere near you. You go to sit up but a loud groan escapes your lips instead, intense pain striking from your stomach.

“Don’t move,” the voice demanded coldly and you turn your head to look, finding Mizu cross legged on the ground beside you, her back facing towards you. “You’ll end up messing up your stitches.”

The fire in front of her dances quietly with the occasional popping.

You open your mouth to speak but your throat is dry and the taste of metal is on your tongue. Distracted by the pain from your stomach and a dry throat, a cup of hot steaming tea is presented in front of you. You don’t look Mizu’s way as it nears your lips helping you take small sips.

When you’ve had enough, feeling satisfied, you ask, “What happened?” Mizu scoffs, your confuse eyes move over to her when she does. You see that her back is facing towards you again. “Mizu?” Your tone is scratchy.

Mizu doesn’t answer. You huff in annoyance at her behavior and lay there silently. If she wants to play the quiet game then you’ll play the quiet game. Mizu did this anytime she was not in the mood but you spotted a difference. It was way too quiet and Mizu wasn’t moving an inch.

“Mizu.” You try again, concern lingering in your tone now. “What is it?” You should’ve known that was a stupid question to ask when Mizu stood up abruptly and turn around to face you.

“Are you stupid?” You flinch when she asks you. Her tone is harsh and she’s glaring daggers at you. You haven’t been in this position since you almost injured yourself by approaching a wild horse when you tried to impress Mizu. Not one of your proudest moments.

“Master.” Another voice cuts in, catching Mizu attention. Ringo appears from the right holding a bag of sorts and you watch as he sends his master a look that you can’t seem to understand. They stare at each other, almost like a staring contest. Eventually, Mizu huffs in defeat and excuses herself leaving off into the trees without another word.

“She’s upset with me.” You stated after a couple of minutes, staring at where Mizu has disappeared off to.

“Yes.” Ringo answered simply. He sets his bag down by his legs, his big hands fishing inside his bag. “You almost died.” Your breath hitch, what did he say?

That’s when everything came back. From jumping in front of Mizu to getting stabbed and ending it with you drifting off into the darkness. Your eyes stay on him, watching him move around the fire, prepping and humming softly to himself.

You still don’t understand. Still confused, you inform him, “Ringo, I saved her life. I really don’t understand-”

“You almost died.” Ringo repeats again like it means something. Like it’s supposed to mean something. Like its the most obvious thing in the world but when he looks up at you and catches you staring at him like an idiot, his lips curl up and he goes back to humming.

You groan at his antics and lay your head back down, staring up at the dark sky with a pout. You decide to shut your eyes and collect your thoughts. Even as the pain in your stomach is already distracting enough, you see a pair of sad blue eyes full of tears flash in your mind and you feel a different type of pain that didn’t come from your stomach injury.

It takes an hour for Mizu to come back.

“Master! Welcome back. The food is ready.”

Reopening your eyes, you pick up your head and see Mizu approaching Ringo who is already handing a bowl of noodles over to her. She accepts it and completely ignores you as she retakes her seat by the fire.

You feel hurt but you are distracted when Ringo approaches you with two bowls of noodles. He sets them aside and helps you sit up carefully so you are leaning back against a wall. You grunt quietly in pain and he then offers you a bowl with a pity smile.

You accept it with a quiet, ‘thank you.’

In silence, did you all eat.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

It takes one to two months for you to completely heal. That’s what Ringo tells you anyway. You try not to be too bothered by it and act like everything is fine, even if the pain can be unbearable sometimes. You don’t want anyone to assume you can’t continue on. But did it really matter when Mizu still continues to ignore you?

Yeah, she still upset. Two whole weeks of no words exchanged. Two whole weeks of Mizu being the biggest asshole. Two whole weeks of Mizu pretending you don’t exist. Two whole weeks and you feel yourself doubting that you ever had a chance to be with her to begin with.

You feel like you are waiting for something that’s not there. Everything you worked hard for to get a glimpse of Mizu has been thrown down a drain. You miss gazing into those blue eyes, it brought comfort in ways that you couldn’t explain. You miss the small touches and lingering looks, it felt like you lost her. There’s no hand offering you a chance anymore, it’s non existent.

Then Taigen comes back.

You don’t like him. You don’t like his personality or his attitude, or his appearance. There is nothing to like about him. Unfortunately, Mizu thinks otherwise. When he comes back you catch how Mizu lips form into a small smile, standing to her feet and greeting him in a soft tone. You have to force yourself to look away whenever his hand lingers in hers.

You and Taigen exchange a few greetings but nothing more. You figure Taigen knows about your feelings towards him whenever he tries to spike up a conversation and you leave him hanging. You won’t waste any time getting to know someone like him. Mizu might be okay with him being around but you aren’t.

“Are you hungry?” Ringo is offering you a rice ball as you both walk side by side while Taigen and Mizu walk ahead. You hear him yet your eyes are train on their hands, watching how they almost brush against each other’s and every time they might bump into one another, it leaves you grumbling underneath your breath.

“What are you saying?” You feel Ringo lean closer to you, his hand cupping his ear.

“Nothing.” You murmur, your lips formed in a frown. Ringo shrugs his shoulders and starts humming again, his feet waddling off ahead. You are left behind and you don’t mind.

You take the time to scan your surroundings, snow covered the ground like a blanket, animals hidden in hibernation and tall trees standing with a little sparkle of snow sprinkled on top. You think back when you were a little kid and how your uncle took you outside just to sit to admire what’s around you.

Speaking of your uncle, you thought back to how those summer nights ended with him drinking his sorrows away. You were young to see pass his harsh words and violent acts, you laid in bed at night wondering what could possibly turn him into that. What was it? Then you found out later as you grew, your uncle was in love but betrayed.

Would you end up drinking away your sorrows too? Get harsh and get violent because the one person you want is avoiding you like the plague? No, of course not. Your uncle took his last breath not knowing that true love came with a price.

“How’s that stab wound looking?” Taigen snaps you out of your day dreaming and you narrow your brows at him, irritated by him. “Mizu told me what happened,” He thinks to include which makes it worse because she can talk about you but won’t talk to you.

“It’s fine.” You give him little.

“Hm, you don’t look fine.” He points out.

You sigh again, turning your head away from him hoping he would leave you alone.

“Look, I know you don’t like me,” He starts making you groan. “I get if it’s because you care about Mizu feelings but she can handle herself.” You want to punch him. “Besides, she doesn’t need anyone by her side trying to defend her all the time. Like how you jump in front of-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish his sentence because you’re already excusing yourself to use the bathroom somewhere deep within the trees.

The snow beneath you crunches every step you take, you think angrily how he could so easily bring up something that meant everything to you. Even if Mizu did not see the incident as nothing, it still mattered to you. You risked your life for her. You would gladly do it again.

As you stop your feet, you glance around the forest and the color white is all that anyone could see standing here. Your hand comes down to the hem of your shirt, raising it and studying the healing wound. Your shaking fingers trace the outline, feeling its tender skin.

You don’t regret it. You remind yourself that you don’t care what anyone has to say about it. Yes, you were nearly killed but you’re alive, still breathing. Although, the pain in your stomach hurts terribly and the sight of it leaving you insecure, you can’t stop the tears from falling.

Are you crying about the injury or are you crying because you can’t stop seeing that flash of sad blue eyes peering down at you that day? You aren’t sure anymore.

You thought back to your uncle, is this how he felt? Did his mind flood with his lover? Did they fill up his mind until he couldn’t breathe anymore? It still hurts. Everything about this whole situation hurts and you aren’t sure if you can accept what’s happen, happened.

Then the sound of a branch snapping somewhere near by makes you jump and look around. You search around for the cause of the noise but find no one around. You take another long moment to collect yourself and made sure you aren’t red in the face when you arrive back with the others.

Unaware, a blue figure in the distant hides behind a tree, having watched everything unfold.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

A familiar grunt behind you makes you look over your shoulder away from the horses behind the gate and see Mizu standing there. She isn’t wearing her wide hat, her orange lenses or her cloak. Her sword however is still in its hilt wrapped around her hips.

“You should be resting.” Is the first thing that comes from her mouth. Internally, you are screaming because how dare she approach you after three and half weeks of not speaking to you.

You turn your body around, leaning your back comfortably against the gate and giving Mizu a dry look. You want to be the one to avoid her now and treat her how she’s been treating you but you aren’t childish. You won’t allow Mizu to make you fear from expressing how you feel. At least not about your love for her. Not yet.

“Now you talk to me.” Mizu makes a face, her eyes dangerously narrowing at you. You ignore it. “I mean, you really had me in a choke hold,” You laugh and it’s not a happy one. “You had me spinning around in circles trying to figure out why you were avoiding me and up onto now, I still have no fucking idea.” You sound harsh now. Your emotions are on sky rocket and you feel deep within yourself that you should probably keep quiet before your other feelings accidentally come out.

“What did I do?” Your voice broke when you ask and you didn’t intent to sound like that but you are tired and done. You need to know. You need to fix this. You need to keep Mizu by your side even if she doesn’t return your feelings. Having her as a friend is better than not having her at all. “Please, what did I do?”

The sounds of horses huffing and stomping behind the gate is all you can hear from behind you. Mizu seems to be choosing her words carefully, her eyes drawn to the ground and her fists at her sides, clenching and unclenching. You want to reach over and take her hand, squeeze it to reassure her that whatever it is, she can tell you. You can take it.

“You should go back home.” Her cold demeanor comes back and you are lost for words. “I don’t need you anymore. In fact, I don’t need you at all.” Mizu tells you, her eyes never meeting yours and looking right past you. “Go home, Y/N.” It’s the last thing Mizu says as she takes a step back, never once meeting your hurt expression.

Can you take it after all?

No. No, you can’t.

“You’re a fucking coward!” You spit out, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

Mizu freezes in her steps.

“If you’re upset about what happened to me and you think it’s your fault, you’re even dumber than you look.” You continue on, your hands are shaking and your stomach hurts from trying to breathe through your tears. “I knew what I was getting into when I first met you. I knew,” You sniff, wiping at your eyes. “What I didn’t know was how you would treat me after saving your life-”

“I didn’t need you to do that!” Mizu cuts you off, spinning around and angrily walking up to you. You lean further back into the gate when Mizu is close enough that you can spot the tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “You nearly died in my arms! Can’t you get that?” You stare wide eyed, no thoughts in your head, only the feeling of shock. “I almost lost you and I can’t live with that. I can’t live in a world where there’s no you in it.”

It’s a confession without saying so much.

Your heart races fast inside your rib cage at her choice of words. Mizu was scared. Of course, you thought. How stupid can you be? She was only upset because you couldn’t see that. You were too preoccupied by your own feelings, you never thought that once Mizu could feel the same way. You think you might cry some more because you can feel it building in your throat.

“So, go home. I’ll feel better knowing you are safe home.” Mizu says dryly, turning around and going to leave you again. Except, this time, you aren’t going to let her. You had to do something and fast. So, your hand reaches out grabbing Mizu by her wrist, stopping her.

Mizu breath hitches, you can see how her shoulders tense up at your touch. When she looks down at your hand wrapped around her wrist, Mizu takes a second and at that instant, her blue eyes look up to meet yours. No words are needed exchanged between the two of you as you tug on her wrist towards you.

Mizu lets herself be brought closer, her body brushing against your own. Swallowing roughly at how close she is, your hand on her wrist slides up her arm, to her shoulder and to the back of her neck. Not once does Mizu shrug you off or look the other way — her blue eyes are watching your every move carefully. And when you risk taking a step closer, your chest fully pressing against her own, you struggle to maintain eye contact.

What should you do next?

“Y/N?” Mizu questions you, her eyes flickering between your eyes and down at your mouth, her tone below a whisper.

“Please don’t make me go.” It’s a plead.

Mizu wordlessly leans down, her nose pressing against yours. You freeze completely, the outside world around you becoming still. Mizu eyes flutter closed as she pushes against your nose some more, almost like she’s silently asking permission to kiss you.

Wait, what?

Her hands are tightly at your hips, squeezing and tugging gently. You think you may faint. You know she’s even more impatient when she moves her hands from your hips and up to cradle your face. Your face flushes deeply feeling her rough skin holding your face, gently guiding your lips near her desperate ones.

“Please.” Mizu finally breaks the tension.

You run your tongue over your dry lips and leaned forward connecting your lips with Mizu’s. Soft at first, two mouths slowly moving together, hesitant but sort of needy. You can’t help the small noises you make when her mouth opens a little wider, her tongue meeting yours. The kiss intensifies when Mizu starts moaning and drops her hands to your hips, pulling you tightly against her.

Unfortunately, you pull back with a hiss breaking the kiss. You don’t see Mizu chasing after your lips until she realizes why you pulled away, her eyes growing worry. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you’re still hurt.” Mizu apologizes, going to take a step back from you but you don’t let her.

“It’s okay, really.” You reassure Mizu, your arms tightening around her neck, not wanting to ever let her go. The dark haired girl huffs, mumbling something under her breath and you chuckle at her.

“What?” She says sounding half annoyed. Her pupils are blown and her hooded blue eyes are no longer light but dark.

“Nothing,” You smile brightly, leaning close to kiss the corner of her mouth.

Mizu blinks, her cheeks turning pink.

“Whoa.” Another voice cuts in.

Both heads snap to their right and see Ringo beside Taigen, standing only a few feet away. The two men stand there with their mouths hung open in disbelief.

Mizu, annoyed by their interruption, scolds at them with a sneer. She takes a step back from you, her hands lingering at your waist, when the two turn around and run off.

“Fools.”

[milkviolets]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 / 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

one of the most important and influential albums of the 1990s. i remember being a young girl and seeing hole for the first time. at the time, i was more into metal, punk, and post-hardcore-- i hadn't gotten that deeply into the riot grrrl genre; i didn't realize how kick-ass of an experience it was to be able to see them play when i did, especially as a local. brash and loud, their songs are pure artistry both lyrically and musically.

𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 ( 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟒 ).

‘  You should learn when to go  ’

‘  You should learn how to say "No" !  ’

‘  Might last a day  ’

‘  When they get what they want, and they never want it again...  ’

‘  Go on, take everything !  ’

‘  Take everything, I want you to !  ’

‘  I want it again, but violent, more violent.  ’

‘  Yeah, I'm the one with no soul.  ’

‘  Well, I told you from the start just how this would end.  ’

‘  You're mine  ’

‘  I am the girl you know  ’

‘  Can't look you in the eye  ’

‘  I lie and lie and lie  ’

‘  I'm Miss World  ’

‘  Somebody kill me  ’

‘  No one cares, my friends...  ’

‘  Watch me break and watch me burn  ’

‘  I've made my bed, I'll lie in it.  ’

‘  I've made my bed, I'll die in it.  ’

‘  He shakes his death rattle  ’

‘  I'm eating you  ’

‘  It makes me sick  ’

‘  They say I'm plump but I threw up all the time  ’

‘  Do you fake it for me like I do ?  ’

‘  My baby's in her arms  ’

‘  You look good for your age  ’

‘  Every time that I sell myself to you, I feel a little bit cheaper than I need to...  ’

‘  I will make you tell the truth  ’

‘  Was she asking nice ?  ’

‘  My dress just comes undone  ’

‘  Do you think you can make me do it again?  ’

‘  If you live through this with me, I swear that I will die for you.  ’

‘  Well, I know it enough to believe it.  ’

‘  My bitter half has bitten me  ’

‘  It's better than you  ’

‘  [ i'm] Sleeping with my enemy  ’

‘  Found pieces of [ INSERT NAME ]'s body  ’

‘  You're hungry, but I'm starving.  ’

‘  I'm your lover, I'm your friend !  ’

‘  Kill the family, save the son !  ’

‘  Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep.  ’

‘  Now she's mine  ’

‘  They really want you  ’

‘  I want to be the girl with the most cake  ’

‘  I love him so much, it just turns to hate.  ’

‘  I fake it so real, I am beyond fake.  ’

‘  Someday you will ache like I ache  ’

‘  He only loves those things because he loves to see them break  ’

‘  And I will await your highness  ’

‘  I'm so high I cannot walk  ’

‘  Go for credit in the straight world  ’

‘  Look a dealer in the eye ’

‘  Won't you try ?  ’

‘  I lost a leg, I lost an eye.  ’

‘  You will die  ’

‘  Leave your money when you die  ’

‘  I tell you everything, and I hope that you won't tell on me...  ’

‘  I'd give you anything  ’

‘  I know that you won't tell on me  ’

‘  Your milk is so sour  ’

‘  I can only cry  ’

‘  You have all the power  ’

‘  I‘ve got a blister  ’

‘  Burn the witch, just bring me back her head.  ’

‘  Geeks do not have pedigrees, or perfect punk rock resumes, or an*rexic magazines.  ’

‘  It smells like girl  ’

‘  Hold you close like we both died  ’

‘  Oh, tear my heart out.  ’

‘  Don't you touch me, don't you dare...  ’

‘  Kitty, kitty, please come here.  ’

‘  We look the same, we talk the same.  ’

‘  You never know what you'll forget  ’

‘  He's stupid  ’

‘  I want my baby, where is the baby ?  ’

‘  She lost all her innocence  ’

‘  She said "I am not a feminist"  ’

‘  Fuck you !  ’

‘  All my friends are dead and gone  ’

‘  Sleep with me, wake up alive.  ’

‘  You're gutless  ’

‘  You can try to suck me dry  ’

‘  Come on, try to shut me up !  ’

‘  I don't really miss God, but I sure miss Santa Claus.  ’

‘  I wanna drink the honey blood  ’

‘  Well, I went to school in [CITY NAME].  ’

‘  What do you do with a revolution ?  ’

‘  Do it for the kids  ’

‘  Make me real  ’

‘  Make me sick  ’

‘  We look the same, we talk the same, yeah, we even fuck the same.  ’

⠀༌༙ ⁎ ཾཾ ུ⁎

[weirwolves]

ever feel like u shouldn’t be justified in your anger because everyone else around you isn’t as angry as you

[dr4cking]

His Mother’s Garden.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | enemies to lovers

a/n : this is so random bye :”

"y/n, come down here for a minute, darling. i have something to tell you" y/n sighed slowly getting up from her lovely bed as she heard her mom called her to come downstairs.

"yes, mother?" her mom greeted y/n with a big smile while her father sitting on the couch, y/n feels like she was going to be interrogated, she grabbed a bottle of water and drink.

"sweetie go pack your stuff and dress nicely, we're going to stay at Malfoy Manor for 3 days." she felt as if her breath got taken away somewhere when she choked on the water, her mother worriedly run to her and smack her back.

"pardon me, mother. but i think i've misheard about what you just said" y/n's mother just chuckled at her daughter's reaction.

"no darling, you heard it right, we're going to stay at their place"

"but why so sudden, mother? you know i hate their son" y/n whines loudly thinking about how awkward it is to spend the day with the malfoys.

"well i met narcissa earlier in gringgots, its been so so long, you know we're very close when we were young, and your dad here is working at the ministry with lucius malfoy too, darling. so we really have to catch up" her mother explained it with her bubbly energy, she did tell y/n how she and narcissa were basically best friends in their time.

"but why do we have to literally stay there? we could've just hung out there and then go back home" y/n frowns, taking a seat beside her father.

"of course not, narcissa is the one who suggested the idea and it would be rude of me to reject it, now dont be a baby and do as i say its only for three days, honey. this is the end of the discussion or we're gonna be late" her mother cupped her cheeks smiling so wide and give her a little kiss on her right cheek before taking her hand and shoved her to go back to her room.

she goes to her room, started to packing while blabbering about her mother, she picked a pleated skirt and putting on a knit sweater, she put on a light makeup and grabbed her sneakers, she doesnt want to dress up so much because she didnt want to go in the first place.

she takes her bag with her going downstairs seeing her parents already waiting at the front door, she huffed.

——————————————

"ah, finally the (your surname)'s here! y/m/n, who is this lovely lady, is this y/n? oh my god, you've grown up" narcissa said as she hugs y/n after she hugged her mother greeting her family, y/n smiles and nod turning the gesture politely.

"lucius, draco! hurry, come here."

both of the platinum blonde-haired men appeared at the door, lucius greet y/n's father, giving y/n a small nod, but draco stayed behind his parents, just looking up and down at y/n smirking making her rolled her eyes at him.

the malfoys lead her family in, showing their room for their stay, the house elves taking their things. as y/n wanted to follow her parents, a hand grabbed her wrist stopping her steps.

she looks up only to meet the boy she loathed so much in their school. draco lucius malfoy.

"not so fast y/l/n" draco pulled her closer, a smirk still plastered on his lips.

"get your filthy hand off of me, ferret. i’m not in the mood." y/n snickered yanking her hand back.

"ooo, feisty. listen y/n, i just want to make a peace for awhile. at least can we try to be civil? i dont want to ruin our parent's moment, and besides that, you're staying in my house, i dont want it to be awkward." draco rubbed the back of his neck staring at her.

"ugh fine, whatever draco" y/n turns and run to follow her parents not wanting to talk to draco for any longer, leaving draco behind who just rolled his eyes at her behavior.

the day goes on so fast, their parents talked and chatted all day, leaving draco and y/n no choice but just to listened and joined their conversation, they both wonder if their parents ever get tired, as the night finally came, everyone already going to their rooms.

y/n wake up from her sleep groaning, she took a look at the clock, it was 2 am.

she rubbed her eyes, her throat feels so dry, she decided to go downstairs to grab a drink before going back to sleep.

"what are you doing at this hour, y/n?" y/n turns around from the refrigerator finding draco who stood behind her with his grey sweatpants. merlin's beard, he looks hot.

"cant you see im drinking, idiot"

y/n close the refrigerator and started to walk back to her room wanting to avoid draco as fast as she can but she only made three steps before draco pushed her against the refrigerator trapping her making y/n let out a squeal.

"you’ve got a big mouth, dont you sweet thing?" draco smirk seeing her flushed face, he pressed his body closer to her making her cheeks heated.

"d-draco i-"

"sshh, cat got your tongue now, hm?" draco rubbed his thumb on her bottom lip, tugging at it making y/n shivered at his touch.

"oh i see you like this, yeah?" draco leans into the crook of her neck, his hot breaths against her neck got y/n to rub her thighs together and draco placed his knee between them keeping her thighs apart.

he starts to pressed kisses along her neck causing her breath hitched, her panties are dampen when she takes a look at his lower part and his hard on brushed against her heat, she let out a soft moan and quickly pushed draco away from her.

"i- i should go" y/n runs to her room, cursing herself, draco behind her just chuckled deeply, satisfied at her reaction, but now he got some problem to take care of.

the next day came, y/n didnt get so much sleep after her last interaction with draco, just thinking about it makes a blush appeared on her cheeks, she threw away the thought of touching herself last night.

she quickly made her way to the bathroom and took a shower.

she just finished showering, putting on a bathrobe and letting off the towel on her head, but as she looked at the mirror, she screamed.

why is her hair green?!

only one name crossed her mind, she runs downstairs to get her target with anger bubbling up inside her.

"draco lucius malfoy! you better come back here! turn my fucking hair back to its color!" y/n yelled, running as fast as she can, catching draco who already ran away from her, without stopping his laughter.

"dont worry y/n, you look good with g-green" draco was panting heavily still laughing, he was still running but stopped at his mother's garden hiding behind it, hoping that y/n didnt catch him here. a smile never leaving his face.

but before draco could react more, he got tackled to the ground, y/n was hovering above him, her wand on his throat, threatening him.

she keeps talking but all he could think about was how hot y/n look on top of him, her new hair color still wet enough to drip the water down to his face, her top of the robe is low enough to show him her cleavage.

he quickly made his eyes back up to her, he would lie if he said this didnt turn him on.

"draco did you hear what i said? turn my hair color back!" y/n pushed his chest back down but her face redden as she realizes what was she doing right now, she quickly gets off of draco but only to be flipped over by him.

y/n was about to say something but got cut off by draco silencing her mouth with a kiss, he kissed her harshly, y/n was still in shock but not for long she melted into the kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck deepening the kiss, they're practically swallowing each other faces, tongues fighting over the dominance, moans coming off from their lips without breaking the kiss.

memories of last night coming back to their minds.

"fuck- you're so fucking hot. do you want this y/n?" draco said as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"yes, yes please, draco" with that, draco attached his lips to her neck, sucking and biting making a mark of his.

y/n rolled her hips on his crotch grinding against him making him let out a soft grunt, he pulls away to admire his work and he goes to untie her robe but not before he asked her permission, she nodded vigorously.

draco untied her robe making her body fully exposed in front of him, he moaned softly at the view and his lips instantly latching onto her nipple sucking and pulling it between his teeth softly making the girl squirmed. his other hand grabbed her breast squeezing it, he was amazed at how her breast fit perfectly in his hand.

y/n tugged at his shirt signaling she wants it off, draco gets the hint and takes it off, she pulled his sweatpants down making his hard cock slapped up to his stomach. she whimpered at his size wondering if it gonna fits in her.

draco groaned at the feeling of her hand pumping his cock up and down, her thumb playing at his red swollen tip, precum already oozing out of it. he stopped her hand before he cums right there.

he spreads her legs wider making the perfect view of her glistening cunt in front of him, he licks his lip, started to kiss her thighs before going to her core making her body jolted out.

"draco.. please, do something" draco smirk, he loves how he gets y/n to beg him, she sounds so hot, begging suited her.

he licked up her slit before sucking on her clit, he moaned at her taste, sending vibrations to her body, y/n gripped his hair tightly moaning his name over and over again as draco's tongue thrusting in and out of her hole.

he then inserts two fingers in her and pumping them inside of her fast, curling them inside, his tongue still licking her cunt lapping up her juices, y/n already a moaning mess.

"yes! draco right there! right fucking there.. oh god im gonna-"

of course.

of course he pulled out, right before y/n could ever reach her high leaving her whining and glared at him in anger, draco chuckles looking at her face.

"stop being so fucking greedy, y/n. you only allowed to cum when my cock is buried deep inside you" draco pumps his cock tapping it against her cunt, lining his tip up and down at her clit, y/n gets impatient but draco pushed her hips down to stop her from moving.

he slowly pushed in his entire length inside her, both of them cant help but moaning each other’s name out loud, inch by inch filling her inside. draco stopped to let her adjust as he fully inside her. he wants her to feel every part of him. y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, nodding at him to move.

"god- you're so tight y/n, i cant barely move. do you know how long i've been wanting to have you under me" draco's breath tickling her neck as he buried his face on her neck, slowly picking up his pace as he thrusts in and out of her.

"yes- fuck.. harder draco i want it rough and fast, please" draco was shocked at how y/n think her tight little pussy could take him rough and fast, but he obeyed anyway.

he grabbed her legs, putting them on his shoulder and begin to thrusting harder, rough and fast like she wanted making her cried out at the angle.

"fuck! you're such a slut y/n, letting me fuck you senseless in my mother's garden, dont you scared at the thought of getting caught, hm? oh i bet you would love that, right?" y/n only could mutter a low 'yes' as draco keep pounding at inhumanly pace making her whole body shake.

"what is it? i cannot hear you, my little slut" draco gripped her throat with his hand, pressing their foreheads together as he stared deeply into her soul not even stopping his thrusts.

"y- yes draco im your slut, i'd love tha- g- god please.."

"stop stuttering." draco's hand move down to twirling her nipples in his fingers and pinch them lightly making her yelp.

"draco?"

draco and y/n stopped their activities for a minute, staring at each other in horror, draco smirk down at her while she stared at him in confusion.

he starts to move again, snapping his hips harder, making y/n gasped, he quickly put his hand over her mouth. draco was thankful that the bushes hiding their ungodly activities perfectly.

"yes, mother?" draco said casually as if nothing was happening right now, he quickens his thrust, going deeper and harder into her while a tear rolled down on y/n's face at the feeling of the knot in her stomach tighten and she had to hold her moans.

"what are you doing there, draco?" narcissa asked as she cant found her son anywhere, only hearing his voice.

"im doing some school stuff mother, i'll be quick and head inside" draco answers holding his moans between his words feeling he would cum any sooner, he hoped his mother take the hint and leave already.

like draco expected, narcissa gives him an 'okay' before going back inside the manor but not without the hesitation in her voice but she left anyway.

"fuck.. you almost got us caught y/n" draco chuckles as his hand left her mouth, a loud moan suddenly escaped her lips.

"you're insane draco, why didnt you s- stop- oh my god.. gonna cum"

y/n cried out she cant even finishing her sentence as draco brings his hand down on her clit, rubbing in circles, getting her closer to her high, his other hand going back to choking her, he leaned in to capture her lips to hold his own high, he wanted her to cum first.

and within seconds, y/n came undone, it hit her hard causing her legs to shake, her eyes screwed shut seeing the stars all she could remember was his name when she moaned it out loud.

draco look down at his cock covered with her juices milking him, he moaned loudly and with the last thrust he collapsed on her, spurting out all of his warm thick cum inside her, painting her walls white making the girl moaned too feeling so full.

he moaned her name into her ear sending butterflies to her stomach as he rides out their orgasms. draco pulled out slowly making y/n winced, their mixed liquids dripping down to their inner thighs.

"merlin. that was so fucking hot, y/n" draco said reconnecting their lips, kissing her with passion and emotion this time.

"that was more than being civil, draco" y/n laughs making draco join her laughter too. he starts to dressed himself back up.

"there i thought we were enemies" draco said as he cleaned her up and tying her bathrobe back.

"oh we are, i still hate you" y/n poked his cheek making draco laughed.

"didnt seem like it 5 minutes ago" draco said as he captures her lips on his again as he finished cleaning her.

"round 2 in my room tonight?" draco asks as he pulled away. y/n smirked at him.

"only if you turn my hair color back" and he pulls out his wand from his pocket and swished it turning her hair back to its natural color.

both of them heading back to the manor, feeling excited and new. they stopped at their parents already waiting for them to show up in the living room with a mix expressions worn on their faces making draco and y/n blushed madly.

"im glad we decided to stay." y/n's mother breaking the silence making the room filled with laughter.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum :( @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @youreso-golden @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @arzfia @slut4dracoo @alexthealexthealex

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 4 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary after waking from a taunting nightmare, tommy expels some late night energy on some wandering mobs. you give him another lesson about taking care of himself, even when working hard, and tommy asks if you’ll teach him archery, which, of course, doesn’t go without entertainment.

warnings nightmares, mob killing

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @halcyoncraft

he was running again. he didn’t know where or from what, but his legs carried him far and strongly, weaving him through trees and grass and other obstacles along the way. he didn’t know how in danger he was, but he wasn’t going to stop and find out.

then he tripped.

when he flipped onto his back, it was that goddamn mask staring down at him, the lips just under it laughing, “you’re so weak, tommy! did you do anything while you were in neutral?” then his axe came down and tommy braced himself for the pain and release of death.

he woke up instead.

sweating under his covers, tommy sucked in a harsh breath as he sat up. he threw the soft cotton off of him, running a warm hand down his face. it was just a dream; he was safe in neutral.

looking out of the window next to him, he saw the moon still high in the sky, casting a cool light into his bedroom. dream’s words rang through his head like a bell, and he rubbed at his temples with a sigh. was he actually getting weak? was relaxing such a bad thing? at the very least, some part of him must have thought so to conjure a nightmare like that..

with another sigh, tommy lifted himself out of bed and flipped open the ender chest. he drew out his sword before heading to the main floor of the house.

when he reached the bottom of the stairs, a voice called out to him, “tommy?” his heart nearly stopped for a moment, before peeking into the kitchen and realizing it was just y/n. she sat in candlelight, writing in a small journal with a slice of half-eaten pumpkin pie next to her. “are you alright?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his voice still heavy with sleep. “just gonna go kill some mobs.”

she nodded. she looked tired, and a part of tommy felt bad knowing that she was most definitely going to wait for him to return. “okay. have at it, kid.”

he nodded, turning to leave the kitchen. before he did so, he pursed his lips and looked over his shoulder to y/n. “you should go to bed.”

she gave him a smile, scribbling something down in the small journal. “i will, tommy. just gotta finish this up..” his natural curiosity was drawn to the small book, and he almost asked y/n what she was writing. but then dream’s voice rang through his mind again, and tommy silently headed for the doors of the house.

the night air was refreshing on his warm skin, cool and still as the moon illuminated the frontal beauty of neutral territory. he took a deep, calming breath of that crisp air before focusing on the task at hand: proving to himself that dream was wrong. that dream is always wrong.

after about twenty zombies, ten spiders, countless creepers, and a few endermen, tommy finally felt the burn in his arms become nearly too much to bear. he panted as he struck down one last spider, turning and finally deciding to return back to the comfort of y/n’s home.

he sheathed his sword when he finally entered the house, going straight to the kitchen to see that y/n was still awake and writing in her small journal.

“ready to go to bed?” he asked gruffly.

she looked up slowly before nodding, placing her quill down and capping her ink. “any trouble out there?”

“no,” he spoke, shaking his head. “wrote everything you needed to?” y/n blew out her candle and went to join the boy in the doorway to the kitchen.

“as much as i could, anyway,” she shrugged, smiling lazily as they began to walk toward the stairs. “what was your nightmare about?”

tommy was slightly startled, but a little too tired to react drastically to y/n’s deduction. “how’d you know i had a nightmare?”

“i’ve had them before,” she said simply. “and it seemed natural that you’d expel some energy onto mobs after such a thing.”

“you’re smart,” tommy credited.

“thank you,” y/n yawned.

they continued to climb the stairs in silence as tommy considered his words. “i was being hunted by dream again, but this time you weren’t there to save me. he called me weak and killed me.”

“so you wanted to prove to yourself that despite allowing yourself peace, you didn’t have to sacrifice your strength to get there,” y/n summed.

the boy half-smiled. she was spot on, as always. “exactly,” tommy breathed. 

y/n was silent for a moment as she thought. they stopped at the hallway to tommy’s room and it then occurred to tommy’s tired mind that her room was downstairs; she was walking with him because she cared about him. 

“honestly, tommy, if this is a real concern for you, then there is no harm in taking time out of your day to work out and train,” y/n spoke. “but the most important thing is to recognize when enough is enough, and when enough becomes too much. you’ve allowed yourself peace and care for the last two weeks, and achieving such a state doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice fighting or training; it just means that you need to be more aware and in tune with yourself as you’re doing it.” tommy nodded.

“don’t overwork yourself, is the summary here,” she said, picking a cobweb off of his shirt. “let yourself do the things you want, but make sure it’s not wearing you down. that’s taking care of yourself.”

“alright,” tommy spoke quietly. “thank you, y/n.”

“of course, kid,” she smiled. “get some sleep, alright? if you have another nightmare you’re free to bother me.” tommy nodded again. “good night, tommy.”

“good night, y/n,” he yawned as she turned to head down to her room. he made sure he heard her door shut before finally heading to his own room.

...

“can you teach me archery?” tommy questioned the next morning at breakfast. it was a question that had bugged him since y/n had first revealed her skills just a few days prior, and since he was going to start training, he figured that might be a good place to start.

“sure,” she chuckled as she scooped some more fruit onto his nearly half-eaten plate of french toast.

“why the laugh?” he questioned through a mouthful of berries.

she shrugged to herself. “your curiosity is showing.”

“i’ve been wondering about it since you took out the mob,” tommy admitted. “if i want to get stronger.. i think this is a good way to.”

“perfecting a skill is the perfect way to get stronger,” y/n voiced. “of course i’ll teach you, kid.” she smiled and he turned back to his breakfast with his own grin. “finish up your food and meet me in the basement; we gotta get you a bow first.”

tommy hadn’t been in the basement of the house yet. he opened the heavy, dusty trapdoor and assumed y/n didn’t go down their often either. he slid down the ladder easily and was immediately hit with heat.

y/n had a welding station upstairs in her shop area, but the basement had a more broad and intense version of that area. several anvils, all cracked and rusted and adorned with different materials were scattered in a sort of pattern amongst the space, a fire burning high in a fireplace at the far side of the room. seeing no sign of y/n, tommy moved to the room to his left.

the next room held a large nether portal, as well as a small farm for netherwart. the dark room felt empty to him, and he had to remind himself that he was in fact in y/n’s house still. he remembered she had said that she didn’t like going to the nether.

“i’m in here, tommy!” she called out. he took another left into a small storage room, where y/n was rustling through a chest. “how tall are you, kid?”

“6’1”,” he answered.

y/n smiled. “you’re a lot taller than i’ll ever be.” she took out a pretty oak bow, slightly scratched and obviously old. “you’ll have to use this for now, until i can make you one that’s your size.” he took the bow from her hands, shrugging.

“it’s fine.”

“good,” she hummed, still shuffling through the chest as tommy took the time to look around the small room.

“what’re the dispensers for?” tommy asked, staring at the wall that held the three stone tools.

“im nothing if not prepared, tommy,” y/n spoke as she took out a quiver and began to fill it with arrows for him. “in case of emergency, those dispensers will set off flares to let others know that im in trouble or that neutral is in danger.”

tommy nodded, still looking at the obviously unused dispensers. “smart.”

“i hope so,” she sighed, handing him the quiver of arrows. he strapped it around himself as she continued, “let’s just hope i never have to use them, yeah?”

“yeah,” he chuckled. she gave him a smile, hoisting her bow higher in her grip.

“you ready to shoot some things?”

...

“relax your shoulders,” y/n reminded. tommy did so, his fingers still white with effort against the taut string of the bow. “don’t pull so hard, tommy. you’re shaking.” he sighed as he let the string and arrow go limp, lowering his bow as y/n approached him closer.

it was his second day of archery training, and he was still missing nearly every target. y/n was a calm and collected teacher, offering him advice that was pointed directly for him and reassured him that there was no rush in the learning process. but after missing fifteen or so shots in a row, tommy was getting frustrated.

and it didn’t help with sapnap and george staring at him through the kitchen windows.

“doin’ great, kid,” sapnap encouraged weakly, taking a drink of the lemonade y/n had lovingly prepared for the boys. just watching the older man sip made tommy’s mouth dry, but he was determined to make five shots in a row before taking a break.

tommy glared at the man before turning his gaze back to his mentor. “ignore him, tommy,” y/n spoke gently. “nick couldn’t hit a target if it was three paces away.”

“that’s a lie!”

“im kidding,” y/n laughed, placing a hand on tommy’s shoulder and turning him away from the distraction that was sapnap. “but seriously, there’s almost always going to be someone watching when you shoot. the more you can tune them out, the better. just focus on your aim--and make sure your grip is looser. you’re gonna snap that string in no time otherwise.”

“loose grip, focus on aim,” tommy breathed and she patted his shoulder as he turned back to the target ahead of him. he hoisted the bow up slowly and pulled the string back just enough that it wasn’t fully taut. he made sure his aim was a little higher than his target, and released the whizzing arrow. the arrow pierced just outside of the center ring.

“perfect,” y/n smiled. “now, do it again.” and he did, taking another deep breath and allowing himself to focus in on the feel of the rough wood on his fingertips, and the tight string he was pulling. the arrow hit just beside his last. she nodded encouragingly. “keep going.”

tommy could feel his heart start to thump in his chest from the excitement of his accurate aim. he took another calming breath and watched as the arrow lodged closer to the center.

“great aim,” she complimented and he grinned as he pulled another one back, trying to contain his shaking as he aimed. the arrow shot lower than his previous, but on the target nonetheless. “still a good shot. one more?”

“yeah,” tommy nodded, licking his dry lips as he retrieved another arrow from his quiver. heart still thumping with utter excitement and pride at y/n complimentary words, he quickly released the arrow and his smile dropped as the arrow lodged into the ground before the target.

“hey, that’s fine!” y/n assured as tommy groaned and dropped his head. “four in a row is an amazing improvement, tommy. you should take a break and reward yourself.”

tommy sighed, looking to the shameful arrow. “yeah. alright.” he dropped the bow to the ground along with his quiver. he looked to his slightly splintered fingers. “im gonna go.. wash up.”

“alright,” y/n smiled as tommy scampered away. she entered into the open kitchen, smiling at her guests. “you boys doing alright?”

they nodded. “when did you take up parenting, y/n?” george giggled. she rolled her eyes as she went to pour her and tommy their own glasses of lemonade. “no, seriously! you care for that kid a lot, it-it’s not a bad thing!”

she sighed, leaning against her counter as she sipped at her lemonade. “i know you two haven’t always agreed with him in the past, but i think tommy’s a good kid. i like his ethic, and i think he has a lot of potential. but that being said..” she shook her head. “he’s so young.” the boys nodded. “he’s been thrown into such a life of chaos and destruction, and im not saying he’s at all innocent, but.. i think it’s good for him to learn that there’s more to this world than just war and enemies. there’s...”

“neutral,” sapnap finished for her. she let out a laugh.

“yeah, neutral,” she agreed, tapping her fingers against her cold glass. “but, yeah, if teaching him peace and self care is motherly of me..” she shrugged. “then i guess im alright with being a parent.”

“that’s sweet,” sapnap nodded. “i hate it.” the three of them laughed, y/n laying a light slap on the man’s arm before tommy’s voice called out to her.

“y/n! can i have some help?”

“im coming!” she called back, setting down her glass of lemonade.

“go help your poor son,” george teased, resting his head in his hand as he gazed at y/n amusedly. she rolled her eyes.

“behave, you two,” she laughed before leaving the kitchen.

there was a moment of silence before george spoke, “i do think it’s quite sweet how y/n’s taken tommy in. i think it’s good for both of them.”

“you say that now,” sapnap sighed, leaning back in his chair. “but just wait until tommy’s back to feeling 100% and y/n’s going around saying “pog” all the time.”

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[aftqrglow]

hi write more dad!bucky headcanons please and thank you

there u go

BELLA I LOVE THIS???? IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG MY LOVE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <33

pairing: dad!bucky x reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: just a bunch of headcanons about bucky with his children

warnings: babies; mentions of pregnancy; i think that’s it? otherwise, its pure fluff

a/n: i've never written headcanons before dhajdjjss i'm sorry if this sucks. i’ve talked about some of these on here before, but i added them here anyway. 

Let's get this out of the way: Bucky is the best dad ever.

I mean, you thought you always knew he was going to be a great father. He's a literal angel, after all. But when you had your daughter, Marigold, you realized just how amazing he really was.

Bucky took care of everything. From waking his little girl up for school every morning, getting her ready and even making her breakfast. 

He would often let her hook her arms around his metal arm and lift her into the air, the sound of her laughter filling the home you had built with the love of your life.

Bucky used to be insecure about his arm, once. About the scars that littered his shoulder like constellations in the sky, the vibranium shot through with gold. And while you had managed to rid him of most of these inhibitions, he still wore his gloves when he dropped Mari off at school.

That was, until the day Mari dragged him to meet her friends

"Look, guys," she said, with the biggest grin on her face. "My dad has a robot arm. How cool is that?"

Bucky damn near teared up at the look of pride on her face. Because how could his baby girl ever be ashamed of him? Her father was a hero who had saved more lives with that arm than he had taken, even if he forgot that sometimes.

When Mari decided she wanted to be a nail tech, he bought her a full kit just so she could practice.

Of course, she chose her dad to be her model.

Bucky walked around for weeks with his nails painted painted pink, waiting until the nail polish was chipped so bad he had no choice but to ask Mari to take it off and put on a fresh coat.

Seeing your husband with your daughter, you were completely unafraid to tell him that you were pregnant again.

You had never met a man capable of giving as much love to everyone around him as Bucky was, after all.

Bucky was overjoyed when you told him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up into the air and spinning you around, laughing like a child.

And when you found out that you were having twins—there's no way to put into words how delighted he was.

Just as he had when you were pregnant with Mari, Bucky took care of everything.

Only this time, he had Mari to help him.

The two of them repainted the nursery together. One of the walls was left the yellow-splattered orange it had been painted previously—for your Mari's name. One was painted a midnight blue for your daughter, and another a mint green for your son.

Brainstorming names was somewhat of a challenge. Bucky, of course, had two names in mind, but he was unsure of how you would react to them.

That was, until you brought it up yourself.

"I think we should name the boy Steve," you said one night, as he got ready for bed. "And our girl—Rebecca. After your sister."

Bucky froze.

"Are you sure, love? We—I know you had a lot of names in mind, but—"

"They were two of the most important people in your life, Bucky. Of course I'm sure."

The first time Bucky held Steve and Rebecca in his arms, he was shaking. Never in his life had he expected that he would have not one, but three beautiful children.

Three children with your hair and his eyes.

A family he would live and die for.

Mari was the most enchanting older sister. She read to her siblings every night, clambering into the crib and lying in between them, careful and gentle in a way most six-year-olds aren't.

As they got older, little Steve's fascination with his dad's metal arm grew.

He would draw little stars on the vibranium with white dry-erase markers, then rub them off with his thumb.

Steve never failed to boast about how his dad was a superhero to his friends at school—to the point where Bucky was bombarded with little boys asking to touch his metal arm every time he went to pick the kids up from school.

Becca, meanwhile, never let you do her hair. "I like it better when dad does it, Mommy."

And so Bucky did her hair every morning, sleeking those strands back into a silken braid, securing the ends with a black hair-tie that had threads of gold running through it.

"To match Dad's arm," Becca had grinned when she had asked you to buy it for her.

Eventually, Becca decided that if Bucky braided her hair, it was only fair that she braided his too.

It started one morning as Bucky was getting ready for school, when she told him that he was doing her hair all wrong and proceeded to climb up on the bed and put a tiny little braid in her dad's hair.

Of course, Bucky wore it around for the rest of the day.

The braid, coupled with his nails painted pink, thanks to Mari, subjected him to Sam's ceaseless teasing.

He didn't care, though. His heart swelled in his chest every time he glanced down at his nails or his fingers brushed the braid in his hair.

To the point where he grew his hair out again, just so Mari and Becca could braid it.

Of course, Steve decided that he wanted long hair too when he saw his dad skipping haircuts.

In fact, Steve even insisted you braid little sections of his hair like his sisters did for his dad.

It didn't matter to him what the boys at school said about his hair. If it was good enough for Dad, it was good enough for him.

Sam was bewitched by your children too. It was hard to say who was more excited to see the other on the weekends, when choruses of, "Uncle Sammy!" broke through the house every time the doorbell rang.

Spending Sundays at your house became sort of a tradition, as did spending holidays on Sam's boat.

Sarah's sons were enamored with your children. The five of them were inseparable, running around the docks, dodging Sam's neighbors who had now come to know the Barnes family all too well.

Bucky had never really imagined that he would ever know peace like this: with a family that he wasn't going to lose this time.

With friends he was sure wouldn't leave him behind.

He had never allowed himself to hope for it

But as he watched the sunset over the waters, sitting next to Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand, the sound of your laughter mixed with his kids' filling the air around him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had done something right with his shot at redemption after all.

Tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @guzaarysh @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons @getluciferoutofthecage

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[startanewdream]

the visit

Written for @blackinnonweek though I totally forgot to post it in time.

Here's a little angst Marlene Lives AU, just in case:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of the children’s laughter greets her as soon as she disapparates in an empty alley two blocks from her house.

Marlene turns automatically, standing in the shadows a few seconds longer than she should, just watching the children in the nearby playground. They are playing, enjoying the end of the afternoon; today their attention is directed to three or four dogs that are playing chase with them.

As she looks, the biggest dog there, a black thin mutt dog turns to look at her, crooking its head to the side as if it can see there in the shadow of the alley, despite the fact that it’s protected by magic.

Dogs can sense magic, an old voice whispers into her head, and she remembers being eighteen and hopeful and in love, laying on the grass on a Muggle park—he always favoured Muggle places—, watching people walking with their dogs. He was smirking, guarding a secret he had never shared. Dogs are special.

She shakes her head, turning around and leaving the alley towards the backstreet. It’s a short walk to her house, less than two minutes, but still Marlene counts at least two sets of eyes over her. She is tempted to joke that she wouldn’t have survived the war if she couldn’t tell when she is being followed, but she stays quiet. They are just doing their job, pointless as it is.

It’s not like he will come to her, not when… not when he has ignored her for twelve years.

She wonders vaguely if this surveillance is why Remus accepted the job at Hogwarts. If he is tired of being followed as well.

But Marlene can’t know because they haven’t talked for years.

She hasn’t talked with most of the Order for years.

The darkness of the house greets her. She turns on the lights, moves to the kitchen to prepare her welcome-home tea, and sorts through the correspondence that arrived while she was out. Nothing important, and a part of her wonders if her mail is being watched as well; she doubts that prisoners on the run would send an owl, but still the idea of aurors searching through her Witch Weekly magazine is kind of fun...

The water has boiled. She pours the water over the leaves, looking outside; there is the sound of barks coming from the street, but she can’t see the dogs there. Maybe they are chasing after the hidden aurors…

A sound of footsteps alert her. It’s very soft, enough that someone else might not have listened but, again, Marlene survived a war. She realizes belatedly that she left her wand in the table behind her, so she does the next best thing. She grabs a knife from the sink, turning and throwing it in the direction of the kitchen door before she can even blink.

The knife vanishes in the living room, hitting nothing.

When she turns back, Sirius Black is sitting by the table.

And he looks… terrible, just like the photos in the Daily Prophet that she tried to avoid despite the fact they were everywhere. There is nothing of the man she once loved in the ghost that currently haunts her kitchen, except—

His grey eyes—pale and with dark circles under, gaunt and so scared—shine as he looks at her. A longing that shouldn’t be familiar and yet it is, as true as it was years ago, flourishes on her chest and she wants to hold on to him, to make this right somehow, to wake up from that strange dream…

But she is awake. And Sirius is dangerous, that’s the only truth she has ever received.

Marlene eyes her wand on the table. It’s closer to him, but he looks so thin that maybe she is faster? But then again, he was sharp enough to break out…

“Tea?” he asks, voice raspy and unused. “You always hated it.”

Marlene blinks. “Things change.”

“Oh, I know,” he whispers, his eyes moving over her face, taking in every detail. “I see.”

What does he see, Marlene wonders. Sometimes she looks in the mirror and she doesn’t think she aged a day. Other times she asks who is the woman staring back at her.

“You look beautiful,” Sirius adds and somehow this makes her laugh. It’s probably the insane kind of laugh that she learned from him ages ago, but Sirius only looks confused. “What’s wrong?”

“The most wanted criminal in the country just broke into my house to compliment me,” she says, drying the tears from her eyes. The mirth is gone. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He pauses. “Why?”

“There are two or three aurors watching me every step. They will probably be here anytime—”

“They don’t know I’m here,” he answers confidently. “And they won’t.”

“I could tell them,” Marlene says, narrowing her eyes.

“You could have warned them minutes ago.”

She could and they both know it. “I should,” she whispers, and suddenly she is twenty-one again, confused and lost after her family is gone and life as she knew broken, her best friend killed and Sirius…

“I missed you,” he says, standing up now, his fingers trembling even as he doesn’t move closer.

Fury and bitterness flood her. “No, you didn’t.”

“I—”

“I went to visit you. Twice, because I wasn’t stupid enough in the first time. And you refused to see me. You refused me.”

“I… What was there for you to see? I couldn’t have another good memory for them to suck—”

“It wasn’t about you,” she hisses, hating herself for keeping her voice down so it doesn’t attract any attention. “I just wanted answers!”

“I am innocent,” he says, sounding only broken. “I would have sworn it and… you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Then why—”

“I’d never betray James. You know that.”

It’s all Marlene has ever thought in the past twelve years. “All I know is that James is dead and so is Lily and Peter and—”

“No, it’s not like this, Peter…” He closes his fist, enraged and suddenly menacing. “He is alive and I’ll find him.”

“So you can kill him for real this time?”

“Yes,” he admits, not ashamed, and Marlene remembers it took a lot for Sirius to feel bashful about anything. “We changed the secret keeper. He betrayed them, Lene, not me.”

Lene. No one has called that like that in twelve years.

“Azkaban did make you crazy,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Crazier, actually. Pretending you—”

“Look at me and say you never questioned it. Say that you believe I really did all those things.”

“I…”

Marlene remembers waking up the first day of November and looking at the newspaper and not understanding anything. She remembers facing the dreadful journey to Azkaban only to be turned away.

The prisoner didn’t authorize any visit.

Did you tell him who it was? (Did you tell him it was Lene?)

Yes. He doesn’t want to see you.

“You’d have told me,” she says. One of those mornings or nights, when we laid in bed, catching our breaths, body still sore after we made love, you’d have told me. I held no secrets for you.

He looks sorrowful. “There is so much I never told you,” he admits, a note of guilt in his voice. “I am sorry, Lene.”

She closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, and she hears soft footsteps. Her heart pumps in her chest but the touch she waits never comes; when she opens her eyes, the backdoor is open and there is no one with her.

She runs to her backyard, but other than a few dogs running in the street, Marlene doesn’t see anyone else.

Her wand waits for her on the table; he could have picked it, he could have done something, but all Sirius did was… look for her. I missed you.

She breathes slowly, remembering their meeting even as she tries to forget it, lock it away somewhere no one can take it from her. Then she grabs her coat and leaves the house, running quickly.

It’s no surprise that one of the aurors catches up with her; it’s the young woman with pink hair that came before to question her, and she looks almost apologetic to interrupt Marlene.

“Wotcher,” she says, winking. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the Ministry,” Marlene says, not stopping to answer; she is close to the alley now and those dogs seemed to be following them as well. “I want to check some old archives.”

“Oh.” The woman presses her lips for a moment. “You know I’ll need to report this later. Which files?”

“The one about Peter Pettigrew’s death,” Marlene replies, turning in the spot. The last thing she hears before she vanishes is a dog howling though there is no moon.

[kywaslost]

Levi x Sick Reader

Warnings: being sick, vomiting

I may take requests for Levi, but I only really write comfort for him...

“Cadet L/N, you’re late,” Captain Levi called to your running form. You sprinted to your spot in the role call line, solluting to your captain.

“I’m sorry sir,” you apologized. “It will never happen again sir.” The man shot you a menacing glare.

“It better not.” He finished role call and started giving out the day’s events. “Run 60 laps and then move on to chores.” 

The soldiers responded with, “Yes sir!” and started on their laps.

“Accept you, Cadet L/N,” Levi commanded. You turned your attention towards him and ran over to him. He gave you a cold stare. “You will run until I tell you to stop.”

You gave a quiet upset sigh. “Yes sir.” You solluted before starting your laps. You watched as the other soldiers finished and started on their chores. A couple soldiers shot you sympathetic looka while the others either laughed or ignored you completely.

The sun beat down on your running body hours later. Your legs ached, a headache starting to form behind your eyes.

“Cadet!” You continued to run as Captain Levi called for you. “Take a drink of water, then get back to it. Don’t stall either or you’ll be running all night.” You nodded, slowing your pace.

“Thank you sir.” You walked into the mess hall to get a glass of water, downing it instantly. You then sighed as you started to go run laps again. This is going to be a long day.

Lunch rolled around and everyone was in the mess hall. You saw Captain Levi cross the area you were running and you were hopeful that he would let you eat. Without even speaking a word yourself, Levi answered your unasked question. “Keep going Cadet.” Your hopes smashed to the ground as you nodded, running past a few dying bushes.

Rain clouds rolled in a few hours later and you started to cry. All you wanted to do was eat and get some sleep. The reason you were late this morning is because you weren’t feeling well. You had a small headache and your throat was scratchy but you sucked it up and went to training. Now you knew for a fact that you were sick. You could tell you had a fever by the chills rambling your body even though it was easily over 100 degrees. Sweat poured down your face and into your eyes as you rubbed at your aching head.

“You’re still running?” a voice asked from beside you. Mikasa was jogging beside you.

You let out an airy, “Yeah.” Mikasa looked concerned.

“Do you feel alright? You’re looking paler than usual.” Raindrops soaked your uniform, making the fabric cling to your skin.

“Nah, I’m fine,” you wheezed. Mikasa sighed and stopped running, now walking over to the girl’s dorms. The heat mixed with the rain made the air very humid, which on top of that caused you to have trouble breathing. Captain Levi came to get you a few hours after dinner. The rain poured down even harder and the temperature had dropped drastically, now in the low 60s. The Captain had his cloak draped over his head and shoulders, shielding him from the rain. 

“Cadet!” he yelled. “You’re free to go.” You sighed as you stopped running. Your vision swam.

“Cadet?” The voice was closer this time. You sighed again as your body slammed into the mud, unconscious.

Levi walked over to his soldier. She had stopped running, but all she did was stand there. He was going to remind her not to be late again but he could see the way she swayed. “Cadet? He ran towards the girl as she fell into the mud. He dropped down behind her, shaking her shoulder. “Cadet!” He cursed to himself as he saw she wasn’t going to wake anytime soon. 

“Captain?” Armin and Eren ran over to Levi. “What’s going on? Do you need a medic?” Levi scowled.

“No, she’s alright,” he answered, picking up his soldier.

“What happened?” Eren asked worriedly.

“She passed out,” Levi answered again. “She will be alright.” Leaving the two boys behind, Levi brought his unconscious soldier to his bedroom. He placed her on his bed gently and slowly stripped her of her tan jacket and boots. He covered her with a thick blanket and left in search of Hanji.

Levi roughly slammed the door of the lab open as he made his presence known. He spotted the scientist almost immediately. “Hey four eyes,” he called. “I need your help.”

The brunette smiled up at him. “Sure. What do you need?” He scoffed at her enthusiasm.

“Cadet L/N is unconscious and soaked to the bone. I need you to change her out of the clothes she’s wearing now and into something dry and warm.” The woman looked concerned.

“Why is Y/N unconscious? Did something happen?” she asked worriedly.

“I’m not sure why yet, which is why I need you to get her into something dry. She is in my quarters when you’re ready. And try to make it quick, we can’t have a soldier get sick.” With that said, Levi left the lab and got to work on paperwork in his office.

Hanji came in not five minutes later with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She walked through Levi’s office and into his bedroom. Levi didn’t look up until she came back into his office, arms full of soaking wet clothes. “She’s in dry clothes now. Mind telling me what’s going on?” she explained. Levi sighed.

“She was late this morning and I made her run. I honestly forgot she was out there until after dinner. She had been running in the rain for hours.” Levi had a distant look in his eyes. “Leave.” Hanji nodded and closed the door behind her. The Captain returned to his bedroom to see you still unconscious under the blankets. He took in how pale you looked and how you trembled under the thick blanket. Levi placed his hand on your head and quickly drew it back when he felt the heat radiating from you. He sighed as he went to get a bowl of cold water and a cloth. When he returned, he pulled a chair to his bed and dipped the cloth in the water. He gently wiped down your face with the cloth. He continued to do so as he soaked the cloth and tried to keep your temperature on the low.

He had just drained the cloth of most of its water and dabbed your face when you stirred and opened your eyes, drained of all energy. He pulled his hand back, surprised to see you awake. “Cadet?” he asked quietly. When you noticed he was sitting beside you, you quickly tried to sit up but he pushed you back down. “You need to relax, Cadet.” You looked around the room, confused.

“Captain?” you muttered. He pushed your head back down to rest on one of the pillows.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he confessed. “But I’m glad you’re awake. You need to eat. Wait here.” You watched as your captain left the room. Within minutes you had fallen back asleep again.

Levi walked in 20 minutes later with a tray holding two cups of steaming tea, toast, and soup. He smiled gently when he saw you fast asleep on his bed. He set the try on the bedside drawer and felt your temperature. He decided to let you sleep a bit more before waking you again. He shook your shoulder five minutes later.

“Cadet,” he said quietly. “Wake up L/N.” You stirred, groaning as you covered your eyes. Levi frowned. “Does your head hurt Cadet?” he asked. You nodded as you rolled onto your back. Levi didn’t show it but he felt bad for you. He felt as if this was his fault. He sighed, “I brought some soup, toast, and tea.” He helped you sit up slowly, propping you up against the pillows he stacked behind you. “It is important to stay hydrated when you are ill.”

You looked at the tray with the food, staring at it. Levi followed your gaze and picked up one of the cups of tea. “Here. It’s a special type of tea that helps with common aches and pains. It should help with your headache.” You took the cup with trembling hands. When you lifted the cup to your lips, the warm liquid flowed over your lips. It was soothing, at least it was before you started coughing. You coughed so hard you spilled tea down your shirt. Levi was quick to take the cup from your hands and place it back on the tray. He pulled a cloth from his jacket pocket and dabbed at the liquid dampening your face and torso. When the sputters of coughing fits wouldn’t stop he patted your back genty.

“Jesus Cadet,” he muttered. “You must not be feeling well at all.” When you finally managed to calm down, tears fell silently down your flushed cheeks. It hurt so much. Levi wiped the tears away. “There’s no need to cry, Cadet.” He then continued to wipe at the spilled tea. As he did so, the dots connected in your head and you realized you were in Levi’s room, in his bed. Your eyes widened.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry.” You started to cry again as you hid your face in your hands. Levi gave up on wiping away the tea when he heard your soft sobs.

“Don’t worry about it Cadet,” he responded as he pulled your hands away from your face. “You’re ill, I get it.” He then held the bowl of soup in his hands. He lifted the spoon to your mouth. “Eat.” Your eyes widened.

“T-There’s no need,” you stuttered. “I can feed myself.”

“Tch,” Levi scoffed. “You couldn’t drink your tea, so I’m going to feed you.” You blushed, not that anyone could tell though, as you nodded and accepted defeat. Levi continued to feed you until the bowl was empty. “Eat this toast,” Levi commanded as he handed the toast to you.

You shook your head. “I can’t,” you muttered. “I’m afraid I’ll get sick if I do.” Levi stood and picked up the trash bin in the corner.

“In that case, I’ll put this here.” He set the bin down beside the bed. He then pulled a t-shirt from a dresser and tossed it at you. You held the cloth in your hands.

“W-What’s this for?” you asked as you looked back up to your captain. He walked towards the door.

“You’re covered in tea. Now change your shirt.” He cracked the door as he left. You slowly pulled your soiled shirt over your head. That’s when you noticed that the clothes you were in weren't your uniform. You pulled Levi’s shirt over your head and layed down. Levi knocked before entering again. He took notice that you looked exhausted. He sat down in his chair, watching over you. “Rest Cadet,” he commanded. You didn’t need much convincing for that to happen. You closed your eyes and fell asleep.

As hours passed Levi sat in his office doing paperwork. The stacks of papers climbed higher and higher each day and he just wanted to get it all finished. The only noise that could be heard were the bugs outside and the sound of his pen gliding across all of the papers. It was almost three in the morning when another sound could be heard. Levi quickly ran into his bedroom to see you vomiting up the food you had eaten earlier into the trash can he had set down. He quickly got on the bed behind you and pulled back your hair. The heat coming from the back of your neck was worse than when he left just hours ago. 

When you had finally stopped emptying the contents of your stomach you cried. Levi shushed you quietly as he picked up the nearly dried cloth and used it to wipe at your mouth. “Calm down Cadet, you’re fine,” he said gently. “You’ll be alright.” He propped you up against the headboard and turned your head to face him. “Do you feel like you’ll be sick again?” You shook your head slowly.

“No,” you said through tears. “I’m good.” Levi slowly got off the bed so he wouldn’t upset your stomach any more than it already was.

“I’m going to clean this out. I’ll be right back.”

Levi returned not long after he left. His heart melted slightly when he walked in to see you still sitting up except this time your legs were pulling to your chest. You were shivering violently even though sweat covered your face. “Cadet…” Levi said quietly. He picked up a spare cloth and soaked it in the water. He ran the rag gently over your face, nose, and neck. “You need to rest.” You looked at him with bloodshot eyes.

“Sleep?” you questioned weakly. Levi nodded.

“Yes, sleep.”

“Captain?”

“Yes.”

“Stay here?” You were already dozing off again as Levi helped you lay back down. He smiled slightly and pulled off his jacket, cloak, boots, and straps.

“Of course.” He sat down beside you on the bed. You rested your head against his side as he picked up a book, opening it to where he left off. Before you were completely asleep, you registered one last thing. You could feel Levi press a gentle kiss on the side of your head as he said, “Feel better soon Cadet.”

[houseofdabs]

It's Raining Cats and Dogs Out There

This isn't nothing serious, just wanted to write sumn, might not be too good, I haven't written nothing in years.

warnings: none

---------------------------------------------

Bo had slept in, something that wasn't particularly rare, but something he wasn't too keen on. Maybe it was from the lack of sun in his face, or the comfortable cool that made it so easy to curl into the blankets on his bed, but it was more than likely from the exhaustion he accumulated from so many nights full of work and less of sleeping. Deep down he knew he needed the extra sleep but as quick as the thought came it was just as quickly replaced with the self-degradation that pushed him to work hours on end with little care for himself-- the fuel that worked him near death in order to prove himself. The wind outside began to pick up and Bo peaked out the window to watch the dead leaves that danced within it, the thought that the only movement in the desolate town being dead itself made him frown a little. Gray clouds above covered the usual harsh rays of the Louisiana sun, what was once a vibrant sky was now dull. The blanketed sky looked heavy and with every movement threatened to burst and unleash the gallons of water it held.

Bo weighed his options in his head: he could either hurry up and make his way to the station to work before the rain started or he could stay and spend his day inside. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rainfall outside the window, mother earth decided for him-- he was spending the day inside.

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, the weather had him hankering for something warm to combat the chill that the elements brought with it, coffee sounded real good. Bo didn't realize how hungry he was until his stomach announced it's vacant state, he supposed some breakfast wouldn't hurt either, and it wasn't often he had the time or care in mind to make himself an early meal. He just hoped the eggs and bacon hadn't spoiled.

The storm outside had picked up significantly and he didn't hear the small taps from Jonesy coming in from the doggy door in the back, the dog nearly made him drop the egg he was about to crack as she shook the water from her coat, some hitting Bo.

"God damnit, Jonesy, you 'bout scared the mess outta me!" Bo hollered as he watched the dog dry off, "ah, quit that, yer gettin' water everywhere." He grabbed a stray washcloth and wiped her down a bit before he threw it on the ground, an attempt to pick up some of the puddle that accumulated at the pups feet. "What am I gonna do with you?"

After he dealt with Jonesy, Bo turned his attention back to the stove, more focused on his egg sunny side up than the dog at his feet. In the middle of moving the egg around there was a clap of thunder outside that caused him to jolt, the spatula breaking the yolk from Bo's harsh movement. A quick 'fuck' escaped his lips as he watched the runny liquid start to cook in the hot pan, he really wanted them sunny side up. He noticed Jonesy move and watch in interest as he plated the now 'ruined' egg.

"Quit yer beggin', got food in yer bowl, leave me alone." He grumbled as he cracked another egg in the pan before he made his way to start the coffee. Jonesy just sat and watched him before she headed over to lay under the kitchen table and out of Bo's way. Not long after the coffee machine was done rumbling, Bo had him a cup of the steaming liquid with the proper fixings, his plate at his space at the table, and a begging dog at his feet once again. As he brought a bite of egg to his mouth, he watched as Jonesy's interested peaked, she went from laying under the table to sitting upright beside him, her eyes followed the movement of his fork.

"Tsk," Bo sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes, "now go on somewhere." In no mood to deal with the dog, he dropped his hand to swat her away but Jonesy stood her ground. Her head lolled to the side as she peered up at him with her big puppy dog eyes, a soft whimper leaving her muzzle.

"Nu uh, I'm fixin' to put you out if you don' hush up, don' give me none of that shit, what? Vincent don' feed you none?" He tried his best to ignore her eyes but he couldn't ignore the way she made a noise as he continued to eat. Bo sighed and his eyes fell to the egg that he had messed up earlier. He let out a huff as he fished the food off his plate and looked back at the pup.

"Alright, you wan' it? You gotta work fer it." He lifted the food to show her but as she went to lunge he held his hand up, halting her movements. "What I say? Now," he pointed his pointer and middle finger in the shape of a gun at Jonesy, "BANG!" She stared up at him, tilting her head again and Bo felt a little embarrassed that she didn't respond correctly.

"Damnit, girl," he attempted once more, "BANG! Jonesy play dead gosh-dangit!" Bo's lips curled up a bit as the dog did as told, although not with as much enthusiasm as she would with his other siblings, but he supposed it was enough. Bo plopped the egg down on the ground for her and Jonesy scrambled to eat it the second she heard it hit the ground.

"Actin' like we'on feed you, shameful." He shook his head and sucked his teeth before he finished his plate. He sipped from his mug and peered down at Jonesy from the rim as she stamped her front paws a little, her head jolted as she softly barked at him.

"I'on got nothin' for you, now g'on, get." Bo nudged her out of the way as he got up, piling his dishes in the sink before making his way to the living room, Jonesy followed at his heels.

Bo stood in the middle of room and scanned the contents it held, trying to decide if he wanted to read or watch a movie but he changed his mind the second his eyes fell on his parents old cassette player. His fingers skimmed the cassette holder and stopped on Marty Robbins' "Return of the Gunfighter", nothing too sad and he loved storytelling. The peaceful guitar contrasted the harsh snap of thunder outside; it calmed him.

The tape played as he settled into the couch, his fingers drummed along to 'San Angelo' as it played in the background. While he preferred the twangy sound of Johnny Cash telling the big guys to shove it, he couldn't help but feel something for the expressive guitar, the Tex-Mex style bewitched him. He enjoyed the songs of a lone cowboy who had no time for love, but his favorites were the ones in which an outlaw managed to find a companion despite their wrongs. Love was always described so sickly sweet, and while he was usually put off by it, he couldn't deny he yearned for it, the idea that someone could love a criminal like the outlaws that were sung about, maybe someone like himself.

The once warm cup in his hands was now cold, the liquid inside had cooled while he sat in thought but Bo couldn't bring himself to care. Jonesy stretched as she laid beside him, her head found its way in the man's lap as she nestled in the couch. He bought his hand down to scratch her side, chuckling a bit as her leg kicked before giving her a couple smacks on her side. Her tail drummed wildly against the sofa and she wiggled further into his lap, licking at his hands.

"Alright, now settle down, girl." He smiled and brought his hand up to rub her head, his cup now abandoned on the table beside him. He readjusted himself, careful not to disturb the animal in his lap as he got more comfortable. Bo allowed himself to further sink into the cushions, sighing contently as he laid his head back. He finally relaxed, his eyes closed as he listened to the rainfall's percussive taps as it landed on the earth around him, lulling him to sleep.

Vincent made his way to the house through the tunnels, having finally finished the wax sculpture that kept him up all night. As he made his way from his late father's office, he took notice of how quiet the house was aside from the quiet melody of Marty Robbins that played in the living room. He stopped walking when his gaze fell on his twin and his dog cuddled on the couch, Bo's chest rising in falling as he slept. Vincent watched for a while before he retreated back to the hall closet and retrieved a blanket for them. Carefully as not to wake them, the twin laid it over the two. He grabbed the coffee cup Bo ditched on the table and took it in the kitchen, noticing his brother managed to cook breakfast. Vincent picked up a covered plate that sat on the stove, smiling behind the mask when he realized that his brother fixed him some as well. He retreated to his room with the food, taking one last glance at Bo and Jonesy before ascending the stairs.

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Moon

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | four

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: All relationships are about give and take.

Word count: 7k~

Rating: Explicit (Mature until the last few paragraphs)

Warnings/tags: nightmares, trauma, drinking, fluff and pining, drugs/being drugged (medicinal), wound care, blood, shots/needles, mature themes/language, emo shit, masturbation (f)

Notes: Hi friends. This is broken up in two portions: the first, being in Nevarro, and the second taking place some time later (hopefully that becomes clear when you read it heh). I'm hoping I captured the varying, distinct tones in each of the sections. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) Enjoy x (gif credit: @skyshipper)

They come at night.

The visions.

Your legs are rock, crumbling - eroding - with each weighted step, trudging through the city you once knew, laid bare to waste all around you. The air is grey brown, chalked with dust—with ash. There are bodies lining the road like trimmed hedges, floating by their ankles—ugly, corporal zeppelins. They’re pale. Their eyes are burned to coal and their tongues hang dead and waxy from their mouths.

They begin the same, choreographed like this; you follow the paths your mind has carved out for you, time and time again.

You spot him, plated in silver at the end of the row. Your feet stop. You see him, and he sees you. You feel his eyes - hawkish, piercing - under the murk of his visor. A predator’s gaze. He’s got a man in his fist—you think you recognize him, you might not—held by the scruff of his neck.

Sometimes it’s X’elo, bending to break in his gloved grasp. Other times, a stranger—a half remembered photograph—a memory of a memory of another dream entirely.

And sometimes, it’s you.

You hear the howl of wind scream through your bones—through the bones of the ruins there—but you don’t feel it. There’s only heat—the kind that’s unavoidable and omnipresent, as heavy as guilt. The hunter brings his hands to frame the man’s temples—yours too, sometimes— pebbles and slate trembling off you as you move towards them. You’re running, you realize, immobile but running and you’re not sure how or why—you never get there in time to find out.

He snaps his neck. You hear the crunch in your own ear—inside your own head.

It becomes night—blood moons drip wet from the sky. They splash onto the dirt. It turns to mud, caking the underside of your boots, squelching as you walk. You round a corner and—

You don’t recognize this. This is new. This— no, this is wrong.

A door. Rutted, freestanding—a dark monolith.

You stutter in your sleep, a crease in your brow.

It’s just a door.

No, not here—

A door. Black wood, a brass handle. Just a door, and you’re sweating. Just a door, and you’re suffocating—you’re being smothered—like your outsides are clawing to get back in through your throat and it’s sucking you in—this door, it’s just a door, it’s just a—closer, nearer, looming taller overhead—

You gasp awake, clutching at the scratchy blanket drenched cold with your sweat. Your rasps echo against the hull, sharp pants scraping the hollow metal, and you bring a hand to your chest—steadying, steadying, the fear of your racing heart.

You sit up, throwing your legs over the edge of the cot, and rake a shaky hand through your hair—the damp of the strands sticking to the nape of your neck. Your breathing evens out, tampering, with your forearms braced on the plats of your thighs; the rise and fall of your breasts against your sleep shirt quiet until you’ve stilled.

You roll off the bed, the aluminum frame whining with the shift, and you knock a knee into one of the carbonite pods as you stumble out of the storage room—your bedroom, now.

You couldn’t handle much more of it. You bought a bedroll the first planet you stopped to refuel at after Bajic, hermitting yourself away into the bowels of his ship. It was the only smidgen of untapped real estate left in the Crest, and it was far be it from you to complain about location. You were just thankful to be out of that copilot’s chair—no amount of bacta could unwind the knots in your neck after sleeping there night after restless night.

So you bunked with the bounties Mando had brought in, like one big macabre slumber party—the chrome slabs slotted up - watchful - in their chambers.

You try not to spare it much thought.

Padding through the Crest, soft bare feet leaving crescents on the steel deck, you step into the fresher to splash water on your face, jolting you back into the present and out of the nightmare, out of—

Just a door.

No—

You towel off, patting yourself dry. Inhaling, your lungs expand with the massive rush of air, and you hold it there until it hurts, until it prickles the corners of your eyes, and finally - deliberately - you release.

You look into the mirror.

You blink. She blinks back.

///

You make breakfast now.

It’s not something you both agreed to, it’s just something you do. Funny, how quickly you adapt to new normals, to new routines. You have rituals now—you two. You make breakfast, and you leave a bowl for him out on the counter before you slip into the shower. When you get out, the bowl is empty and the dishes are washed clean, drying face down on a rag. You smile. You never speak of it. Like ivy crawling up cobbled walls towards the sun, it happens— without prompt or feed, it simply is.

///

Nevarro reminds you of Dallenor—the craggy blandness of it, the endless black sands—and you fight the urge to hate it solely based on this principal alone.

You stay on the ship with the little one while Mando goes into town, meeting with some Greef Karga character to sew up Guild business. You have no idea how he ever managed to get any hunting done with the kid always acting up, pulling hijinks and inciting anarchy. He’s nearly torn the whole place to shreds. How such a tiny body can produce such a massive wake of damage is a mystery you will never solve.

You make yourself watch.

You force your jaw, set and held, as Karga’s men haul the quarries out of the ship, hovering eerily down the ramp.

X’elo, the smuggler from Vohai, some two-bit thief, and a woman Mando caught before you met, all parading single file out of the Crest like a funeral procession. They’re criminals, each and every one—they’re violent and they’ve done terrible, irredeemable things—but they’re people, too.

And isn’t that what makes it all so cruel. So sad.

The least you can do is give them an ounce of dignity before they’re subjected to their fate— however harsh, however fair.

So, you watch.

Maybe they don’t deserve it—they’re here by their own hand, after all, a bed of their own making— and maybe they haven’t earned it back any. But perhaps it’s less about what you can offer them and more about what you refuse to let the galaxy take. Because don’t you deserve to stay unfragmented? Complete? Would you rather be robbed of this humanity, your sense of decency—have it stolen from you?

Doesn’t it cost you nothing to be kind?

You pray neither sound nor fury will strip you of this—this open-eyed tenderness. You beg that you remain, undistilled, despite despite despite.

///

You’re so much more relaxed now then when you first came on board. You were as quiet as a church mouse then, tip toeing around the ship like you were afraid you’d ruin her.

Din will never admit it, but you even managed to get the jump on him once or twice—appearing exactly when and where he least expected. And he didn’t - couldn’t have - he didn’t expect you.

This.

And he looks at you now: lit by lamplight—the kerosene filament flickering warm in the dark hull— slotted back and humming to yourself as you swipe a finger over a holopad, feet propped up on a crate by the table, and it all looks organic. Right.

The drink in your hand, sloshing against the amber jug, no doubt eases your mood. You’re drinking it right from the bottle. He thinks it’s fucking charming.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Maker above,” you hiss, startling a foot out of your seat. You shoot him an accusatory glare, but there’s no malice in it—there’s laughter ringing around your eyes.

Honestly, that man needs a bell on him.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he comments dryly, stepping past.

You move your legs from their perch and sit a little straighter. “You- you could join me,” you chime, “if you want.”

His feet slow until he’s stopped completely and he pans over his shoulder to you. You can’t read his expression—it’s steel all the way through— but you think you feel the air around you both quiver - shudder - with something unspoken, something kinetic.

The scrape of the chair as he pulls it out from the table is deafening, the thunk of his metal body sinking into it even louder.

“What are you reading?” Mando asks.

You cast him a sheepish smile. “CoreWorld News.”

“Anything good?”

Your mouth twists, biting the inside of your cheek. “Never.”

He huffs a breathy chuckle.

There didn’t seem to be any good news anymore. You forage for it—scouring the net for just a whiff of it, of something pure. There is plenty of greatness left in the world, but you find that what it lacks most is goodness— humble and precious. More often than not, you come up empty and disappointed—but never so dissuaded that you do not search again the next day, and the day after that, and after that and after that again.

“How’d it go with Karga?” you ask, setting the holopad down and switching off the display.

“Fine. Good.”

“Good,” you smile. He’s terse—sparse. You think it’s endearing now—vexing too, without a doubt, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive anymore.

“Nothing close to Coruscant yet. More outer rim chaavla,” he grits out, swallowing. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a tickle of bemusement in your voice and a quirk to your chin. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I know you want to get back.”

You hope the glow from the lantern in the galley is dim enough to camouflage the tinge sprung on your cheeks. The truth is becoming more and more clear to you, whether you like it or not: with each passing day, you want to go back to Coruscant less and less. You have to—you know you have to. You have your career, your whole life, waiting for you. But—

But.

“You told me it would take a while—longer than I’d like.”

“I know.”

“I’m happy to be here— I-I’m grateful,” you catch yourself.

He clenches his fist under the table, beyond your line of sight, gnarled tight into a ball. It tethers him down, anchoring him in place—because if he weren’t, fuck, he’d fly out of his seat so fast—

“Alright,” he chokes out.

“Alright,” you smile, glassy.

There’s a kind of mist encircling you two, an incense of a sort, intoxicating and sinewy and lulling you into a hushed calm. It’s thick around you - lush - and you can feel it settle like lead behind your eyes.

“Can I pour you a drink—for later?”

It’s late into the evening, well beyond the hour where the lines of decorum blur. You’ve crossed into the Other—that tarred, limber undertow. Dangerously weightless and free. The liminality between here and there— that twilight place.

Shadows bounce along the walls. Your outline—his too.

“I’d like that.”

///

You’re not as tipsy as you could be, but you’re less sober than you’d like.

Subconsciously, buried somewhere deep, you’re aware that Mando is humoring you and that you should let him get on with his night—but you don’t.

You’ll be annoyed at yourself later for this.

“Okay okay, what are your hobbies?”

A deadpan tilt of his helmet. “I—I don’t understand the question.”

You gape at him, your bottom lip glossed as it parts, plush and wet, and you laugh. “Hobbies,” you reiterate. “You know, stuff you like to do? For fun?”

You see the gears under that helm wheel and spin. It shouldn’t take anyone this long. The question is basic and the answer should be relatively immediate—but Mando has to mull it over. In all of his cycles, as hardened as they’ve been, he hasn’t been gifted the luxury of leisure - fun - and he hasn’t been afforded the time to dwell on the lack of it.

Selfless, without a moment of ownership to himself. This is the way.

“I-,” he pauses, mouth clamping shut. “Skip.”

“Fine, fine,” you tut. “What is... your favorite planet?”

Din stretches back, his beskar groaning against the chair.

All the planets he’d visited were out of necessity—out of demand and credit, never because he wanted to be there and certainly never out of favor. They were tainted—made insipid and unremarkable by the quarries he chased to them.

But there is one in particular that stands out; he remembers a planet the kid seemed to like—how he babbled the whole time, slung in the satchel at his hip, entranced and enthralled. He was on his best behavior, too—the little womp rat didn’t even try to stuff his tiny, wrinkled face with anything. Not once.

“Adega.”

“Adega,” you repeat, testing the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it. What’s it like?”

He draws in a long breath, his ribs yawning against the corset of his armor.

He should’ve gotten up by now—fuck, he shouldn’t have ever sat down in the first place. It’s not like he didn’t have anything to do; he needs to downshift the Crest’s power converters, switch off the shield projectors, chart a course to his next job, get some damn sleep if he’s lucky…

But you’re here before him. You’re here and he can’t deny you—not when you’re looking at him like that, like the sun shines out from his fucking face—far softer, far kinder than he deserves. Not when you’re here now, and you won’t be for much longer.

He’s racing against the clock—the swinging inevitability of it. Each moment he shares with you, is a moment that brings him closer to taking you back.

Din is a fool. He knows he’ll lose. He races anyways.

“It’s a water planet—mostly ocean,” he begins.

You allow your eyes to dip close, savoring the description, and you tuck your legs up to fold over themselves.

“But there are islands. Some are small, private—with red trees that go all the way to the sand. Others have whole cities on them.”

You remain quiet - patient - like marble, chiseled and sanded as thin as chiffon, veiling over your face in fine, cascading sheets. Transparent - ethereal - you listen to him blind, letting his words guide your sight.

“The kid-"

Your tongue darts out over your lip and he stutters. Din has to shift his hips, relieving the growing heat that’s tightening below his waist.

“T-The uh, the kid loved it. I’d never seen him like that. The bogwing didn’t want to leave,” he chuckles. He conjures the details he thinks you want—the details he thinks you might like most. “The people are honest—generous. The days are long, and the nights are warm.”

He’s no poet, but it doesn’t bother you.

“I can see it,” you say, before blinking your eyes open. "I'll have to go some time." There’s pink on your cheeks, seeping past your jaw and below the neckline of your shirt to the swallow of your breasts.

You look at him— he looks at you.

A noise hums from somewhere inside the ship.

“Are you scared of anything?” you murmur.

Mando lets a beat pass.

“I don’t think so. Not yet.” You smile at that—small, wistful. You’re not even sure why. “You?” he asks.

Your chest rises with a deep inhale. “I used to be scared of dying. I thought I was gonna die young. I was convinced—I had dreams about it all the time as a kid.”

But maybe that’s not it entirely. Maybe it’s not the fear of dying itself, but the dread of living and dying alone. And isn’t that at the heart of it—at all of this?

I just don’t want to do this all on my own.

He’s never been privy to this version of you—this sloping tone, the liquor buzzing through your speech, churning your words to treacle. You sound nonchalant in way that’s jarring, as if you aren’t talking about death— the fear of your own tenuous mortality.

“But I bet everyone does,” you continue dismissively, “just one of those things.”

He’s almost cautious when he replies. “I’m not sure they do.”

Your expression contorts, knotting for an agonizing moment—until the tension all but disappears. “Huh,” you shrug flippantly, and take a swig. That heaviness, that fog, dissipates nearly as soon as it arrived. “Anyways, favorite color?”

He rolls his eyes; you can see it in the way he tilts his head to you. Really, he seems to say, how old are we?

“You’re right, you’re right— that’s low brow. I can do better…” You melodramatically tap your chin, eyeing him pensively.

“Okay. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That,” you nod to his pauldron, “that symbol on your shoulder.”

Tawny fingertips trace absentmindedly over the emblem. “It’s a Mudhorn. It’s-” Mando hesitates, before his hand returns to his lap. “It’s the sigil of my clan.”

You arch your brow. “I didn’t realize you had a clan— is it- is it like, big?” Stars, you sound dumb—and there’s no excuse. You’re not even that drunk. “How- what is a clan, exactly?”

“In Mandalorian culture, your clan is your family. Aliit. Mine, it’s—it’s a clan of two.”

Something in the pit of you stirs, a sickly warmth, pulling at your gut like a rope. You glance over to where the child sleeps, snuggled away in his pram and your lips curl into a smile, hidden behind the bottle you bring to them.

“You’re lucky to have each other,” you say gently, taking another sip.

“We almost didn’t—shouldn’t have.”

His hands tense into his legs—the creak of leather against his thigh plates is audible even from where you sit.

You narrow your eyes curiously. He heaves.

“He was a bounty and I did my job. I turned him in. I went back for him, but—the kid, he saved my life, and I could’ve left him there—I would’ve, before.”

It all comes out like tires grinding through gravel, bruised and roughened. It’s regret, you realize—this is the sound of guilt, frigid and rued, pushing through his modulator. It makes you want to reach out to him, put your hand on his, comfort him, reassure him—something. But you can’t. He’s too far away. He’s on his own sea—untouchable.

You decide it right then and there: you can’t bare that sound, the wracked timbre of it. You hate it. You think you’d do anything to rid the way in constricts his throat—makes him hoarse and clipped, even through the guise of his helmet. It pains you, a visceral stabbing, right to your core. You could go a lifetime without hearing it, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

“But you didn’t,” you offer.

“No,” he utters. “No, I didn’t.”

Mando gives you these tortuous, beautiful previews of himself. Like light passing through stained glass, you sneak brief glimpses of the paintings there, the stories and fables and the lessons they teach, until some great cloud drifts past, blotting out the sun, and all goes dark again.

You know this is rare. You know you’ll be home soon. You know to cherish it—to relish what he gives, when he gives it, if he gives it at all.

But—you want more. You’re a simple woman, at the end of all things: all you want is to hold him.

“I think you’re a better man than you let on, Mando.” There’s a knowing twinkle in your eye, a coy lilt to your loosened tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were flirting.

“You don’t know that,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have my suspicions." You're smirking something awful - deadly - as it sears into him.

He grunts, flames licking up his chest. Din has to bite back his grin, making careful it doesn’t shape the sound of his vowels; grateful for the helmet that buffers him, the mask that seals him away into anonymity, into apathy.

If he can convince you, maybe he can convince himself too. Maybe.

“Next question, dala.”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting.

///

Your eyes are blown wide, gawking at him.

“I’m not a medic, Mando—I’m not a fucking surgeon!”

Mando crashes through the Razor Crest, red dollops trailing in pools behind him. He grunts, hand pressed to his side, blood pushing out of the gash that’s torn into him— a canyon down his unplated body, spewing angry and insistent with each spasm of his heart.

With a broad stroke, he sweeps the clutter off the table and onto the floor, spraying across the deck.

“Medkit,” he barks, hoisting himself up to lie, hulking and pained, out on the slab. You scamper to it, ripping it off the wall, and return to his lumbering body. His breathing is labored—he’s forcing it, seething it out.

Mando’s legs bend off the table at an uncomfortable angle and he rasps when you crane them up by his booted ankles – fuck, he’s heavy – to situate a small crate under his feet. They drop with a dulled thud— without muscle, without resistance. The languid weight of a dying man.

You’re stationed beside him, medkit spilled open. “W-What now, what do you need?”

“I need you,” you heard him say, deep and bassy, as he ascended the ramp. With a colossal drum of your heart, you spun around - I need you - a blush stippling your jaw. The pregnant expectation built behind weeks and weeks of stalemates and stolen glances - I need you - all rearing to a head here and now and finally, finally something—until you saw him, doubled over, bracing himself on the wall, a line of blood smearing behind his palm.

“Bacta-“ Mando wheezes, “bacta shot.”

You rifle through the supplies, littering them as you dig through the box.

Sure, you had gotten your first aid certification with the Movement—it was required, and you retook the courses every few cycles. But that was gauze wrappings and mouth-to-mouth and anti-inflammatory tablets—that was not this, and this is fucking surgery. You’re out of your depth—and Mando must be out of his damn mind.

“I nee-“ He inhales sharply, and his body spasms, gripping the ledge of the table like a vice. “My chest plate—take it off.”

He’s told you bits and parcels of the Mandalorian way—of his Creed— and you aren’t under the impression that this would be strictly sanctioned.

“M-Mando, I thought— are you sure?”

“Yes I’m kriffing sure—do it. Just do it,” he snaps. He hates this—he fucking hates this. Soft. Weak—weak weak weak, he’s so fucking weak. Laandur.

You fumble over the armor, uncoordinated as you unclasp it from his cuirass and Mando strangles out a sigh as soon as it leaves him. At last, you fish the shot from the medkit and hold it up to the light, the medicine like venom as it whirls in the tube. It’s uncomfortably large—simply holding it makes you squirm.

“W-What is that?”

Your eyes flit over the needle and then back to the bounty hunter. “What do you mean ‘what is that’? It’s a shot.”

“That’s a lance,” he growls.

“It’s ebacta-”

“It’s green!” he hisses out incredulously.

“It’s all they had!” you bite back, panic skipping through your veins.

You’re practically yelling at each other, the tension winding and coiling tighter and higher as the seconds tick by. You feel each one, tapping along your vertebra like a metronome, keeping time, keeping time, wasting time—all this back and forth is a waste of time and—

You’re nervous—you’re fucking terrified—and Mando doesn’t frequent this position either—this vulnerability. He doesn’t know what to do with it, where he belongs in it. I need you, he said. He hadn’t needed anyone before and now look at him, bare breasted before you, wounded and mewling like roadkill.

You rap the needle with a knuckle, banishing the air pocket, and test the plunger. Droplets of liquid spurt from the tip, and he begins to rile.

“Dala,” he warns.

“Mando,” you mimic.

“Nu draar-”

“Do you want my help or not?” you spit out, and he shrinks, visor trained on the jab, that unnatural chartreuse swirling inside the glass vial. “Okay. Okay, on three.”

“Wait, wait-"

“One..." You try to sound firm - competent - but you’re a fucking mess. Your breathing is erratic, tunic soiled with sweat, and you’re trembling.

“You don’t-“

“Two...”

Mando huffs exasperatedly, “Ah, fuck it-”

“Three.”

You drive the syringe down, stabbing into him. His body seizes—flexing rigid—as soon as the viscous gel is injected, oozing oozing oozing until it’s pumped empty and spent.

And then— nothing.

All that whirlwinded frenzy, that raging tempest, and now silence— dead silence. He lays there motionless, fidgeting ceased, that ungodly needle pitched like a flag pole from his chest.

… Shit.

“Hey,” you touch a hand to his shoulder.

The smug bastard could be having a laugh under that helmet and you’d have no idea. That’s what you tell yourself—that’s what you’d prefer to believe anyways; it’s better than the alternative, better than—than than than fuck—

“Hey, this isn’t funny...” A little rougher now, you jostle him. He doesn’t react.

“… Mando?”

His head lolls to the side.

With a whistle, the room goes mute. Sound and oxygen alike, it all gets vacuumed out, and your senses invert. You can hear every tick of your body: the bone of your jaw as your teeth mash together, the pulse at your wrist, your stammering heart beating beating beating in your inner ear, the bob of your trachea as it grates against your neck.

Kriff. You killed him—you killed the Mandalorian.

Oh Maker, oh shit-

You press down around the puncture site with a wide palm before yanking the syringe out, flinging it away. You’re shaking him now, wrestling with his limp body, and you’re shouting—croaked with worry, with fear.

“Fuck, Mando—Mando!"

The sound is like glass shattering.

He gasps wildly, gulping down air as if he’d been drowned, writhing like the undead from your operating table. You buckle over him, fatigued and slumped, and cry out in blessed relief.

Your instincts, those poor frail nerves, tell you to smack him—but given that he’s bleeding out, you refrain.

“Don’t do that to me!” you exclaim, breathy and strained.

“Don’t do that to you?” Mando retorts, panting. You let out a weak crackle of laughter and he moans. It’s like he’s been hit by a speeder - twice - forward and then reversed over again.

“Maker, what did you give to me?”

“I got it on Vohai. They uhm- they said it was good quality-“

“And you believed them?”

Your mouth twists shyly. “I-I wanted to believe them,” you correct him.

It’s his turn to laugh now, tired and raw. Oh, you sweet little thing.

You swallow, saliva coating your ragged windpipe. “I’m sorry—Maker, I’m so sorry, a-are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, gargled, “but remind me never to have you save my life again.”

That earns him a light slap to his arm. If he’s well enough to dole cheap shots, you figure he’s fit enough to take yours too. He’s spliced open, whole chunks of him missing, and he still has the wherewithal to be an ass.

“Well, you’re not out of the woods just yet.”

///

Regrettably, Mando might have been spot on about the bacta—in fact, you’re starting to question whether it’s really bacta at all.

A delirious grunt ripples through the bounty hunter’s modulator as you cut open his ripped flight suit, careful not to slice him with the vibroblade. His black undershirt is matted to his gaping wound, the blood bubbled over and through the rough material, and you have to peel the fibers out of his coagulating flesh to get to it. You toss the fabric into the bucket next to you with a sloppy, wet plop.

It didn’t even occur to you. You were so swept away by the state of him—by the dizzying carnival of it all as soon as Mando breached the Crest—you didn’t consider the fact that you’d be seeing him. Touching him.

You have to mask your expression when you meet his skin for the first time. He’s golden—he’s golden everywhere—like desert sand dunes sizzling under ripe, afternoon suns—dappled with memories of violence, branded into him.

You’ve never heard him like this. He keeps noising these feverish little nothings— gasping, moaning in a language you don’t recognize—and you do your best to distract him. It’s one of the tenets you recall from your aid training: keep them talking, keep them sharp—engaged.

“Do each of these have a story?” you ask, eyeing the marks that riddle and pucker him.

“Some of them.”

“What about this one here?” You touch a faded ribbon of scarring. It’s older than the others—paler. Your fingertips are cool and he blazes beneath them.

He tries not to twitch. You try not to notice.

“Fell out of a tree when I was a kid—haven’t thought about that in a while,” Mando pants. “B-Broke my wrist, got scraped to shit— my buir, m-my mother, she chewed my ear off.”

“Mm, I bet she did,” you smirk—you can relate to the feeling.

“I-I remember the lines around her eyes. H-Her eyes— they were green, bright green— jade.”

He lets out a wince as you swipe a disinfectant soaked rag over him. You cringe and flash him an apologetic look.

“Sounds beautiful,” you muse, a quiet smile pulling at you as your deft fingers work. “Did you get her pretty eyes too, Mando?”

Something is caught in his throat— a chuckle, or a cough more likely. “No, they’re brown. Just brown.”

Your whole body locks.

Just brown.

Two words - just brown - and suddenly you’re rich— full to the brim with him.

And fuck, if it doesn't feels like a gift. Like he gathered something precious and laid it in your arms and said here, you can have this now. We can share. Sometimes you forget that there’s a man under all those layers; a man— a warm blooded, tanned skin, brown eyed man. You hadn’t often wondered what the Mandalorian was hiding under his armor—he was so finite, so unmovable, the mask he wore became him. He was beskar - indistinguishably - through and through.

But that was before. And now you’re blinded with him— with all the details you cannot unsee.

“S-She was the last person to take care of me—like this.”

It comes over you so suddenly, you’re taken aback by it: that knee-jerking gut wrench. And not because there’s heartbreak in his voice, but because there isn’t. Because he’s had to be so invulnerable—so unyielding and invincible for so long—that he doesn’t even realize what he’s without.

And you, if only for a silly, naïve moment, wish you could give it back to him. Every little ounce of goodness that he’s been deprived of—to dip into his time stream, and rewrite.

To plant but a seed of it there, even if you don’t stay long enough to see it’s harvest.

“Tell me more about her,” you say.

And beyond expectation, beyond reason, he does.

///|||///

This—this is wrong.

He feels pulpy - soggy - wrong. He’s more liquid than he should be—there’s nothing solid about him now. He’s swept away in the tide of it—this green current charging through him and he let’s go - what is there to hold onto anyways? - floating belly up on his back.

Din spills—like the aperture split into his side, he gushes. Whatever dam he’s forged around himself, the beskar and duracrete there, cracks.

The stream trickles until he floods and like any good story, he starts from the beginning.

He tells you of home—his first home. Aq Vetina.

You’re plucking spikes and nettle from his side, and he barely feels it—all he has is this sinking, unending wet—and they hit the tray with dull plunks, punctuated and staccatoed.

He tells you of the adobe dwellings and the domes and columns. Marketplace canopies and caravan bazaars.

plunk

The oak trees, the willow bark, the spires he’d climb until the sun set.

plunk

The tall mountains and the dry, rubbled earth. Of the nameless neighbor children he played with, kicking a ball through the dirt. Red robes trailing, fraying.

plunk

His mother. The shawl she wore. The copper of his father’s ring. The herbs she grew by the light from their kitchen window. How he held her hand while they sat by the fire.

plunk

His tongue doesn’t belong to him—it wags numb and supple. He’s lost his sense of direction, unbound by north or south, and these words are simply happening to him. They keep happening and happening and escaping and—

It’s not just the off-bacta speaking for him, making him pliant. He wants this. He wants to bend—he wants to bend for you.

And now there’s no stopping it—there’s no breaking this, no halting it's downhill momentum. Din describes the attack, the heat of the fire as his town - his world - burned down, of his parents concealing him—a child, abandoned and bunkered away in a cellar to live or die with or without them— being rescued by the Death Watch and raised as a Mandalorian himself.

Your bandaging has long since finished, but you remain, hovering over him as you listen—listen as the jigsawed shards of his life stitch themselves together. Like a moth to a flame, you are drawn in and in and in, until you’re butted against the wick of it. Inseparable.

When the well of his words runs dry, neither of you go to move. Pin-drop silence envelops you. Your hands still on his chest, palms like a weighted quilt—warming him, securing him. He feels-

He feels safe.

“Mando,” you murmur, and the epithet has never sounded so fucking sacred, whispered from you like a prayer. You cripple him; the web of concern along your brow, the sheen in your eyes, the breathy part of your lips.

His throat has gone dry and he shakes his head left right, beskar grating against the makeshift gurney. Mando. No. No, that’s not right—that’s not who he is, that’s not who he wants you to know.

He draws his hand up—it’s so fucking heavy, he can barely lift it—but he tries, he tries, he wants to. You’re right here, you’re touching his chest and you’re healing his body—his mind too, if he’d only let you—and if he could just get to you. If he could just lace his fingers with yours—would you let him? Should you?

“M-My name-"

A warbled wail from the kid’s alcove rips through the cradling hush, and you both react immediately, lurching up to tend to the child. Din forgets—he hears his foundling and his reason leaves him—and he flinches with a grimace. You urge him down, steadying him with a pointed look.

“Rest.”

It’s a command, there’s no question to it, and it’s teeming with all of these unrecognizable concepts— care and assurance, worry and compassion. So impossible to disobey in the way that gentle things are—too soft and too right to say no to. He relents - gives - helmet thudding when it connects back with the table.

Din, he pleads, desperate for you to read his mind. Like a mantra, his subconscious rambles it on a drug addled figure-eight, coming around only to repeat itself again, infinite and wanting. Din Din Din-

Only when the child’s cries muffle into hiccups and his hiccups slur into coos does he let his exhaustion get the better of him. There was too much—it was an assault from all fronts. The blood loss, the drugs, his life like a monsoon as it crushed him open. And all it took was a wound, a brush with his mortality, for him to surrender it to you.

He turns his head, searching for you through the blur of his vision. You’re there in the doorway, rocking his boy in your arms, haloed with light.

I need you, he said. I need you I need you I need you I need-

Din’s eyes shut.

He doesn’t dream. He sleeps like the dead, blissful and undisturbed.

///

You spend hours scrubbing the deck on all fours, spine hunched and aching, cleaning scarlet off silver steel. It got everywhere, the splatter of it—even on the surfaces Mando didn’t come in contact with. The smell of blood, that nickel musk, it lingers long after its welcome—long after the stain of it, the stain of him, has vanished from the Crest. From your skin.

At some point during the night you nod off next to him, curled over a crate, and when you wake Mando is gone—presumably back to his quarters but gone all the same. All traces of him gone - expunged - and the ship feels hollow and gaping— a sterile Mando shaped hole in his absence. You follow his lead, retreating to your bed for a few more hours of sleep.

The next morning doesn’t go as you’d like.

You weren’t sure if he would remember any of it—of what he confided, of what he almost confessed— but by the way the tension ferments between you, you can only assume he does.

They go through their routines, stilted as they are.

He’s up early— unnecessarily early. Mando goes to the cockpit to rouse the ship, plugging in the coordinates from his tracking fob to chase after the escaped bounty. Thrusters set. Repulorlifts and auxiliary engines engaged. Deflector shield generator on. Weapons check. Atmospheric pressure regulator switched.

He’s slower, you note— his movements are crawled—with only half the feline agility he typically possesses and you want to tell him to sit, to take a break—to get off his damn feet and to let you help him—that it’s okay if he rests. That he can take time for himself. That it doesn’t make him any less of a Mandalorian—any less of a man.

But, you can’t.

And so the day is pulled taut like this—a bowed string ready to snap, chalked full of false starts and tinny stoicism. A sharp, intentional air of avoidance with every action. They were out of step, out of sync, and it reminds you of the first days you’d spent on the Razor Crest, orbiting each other—planets apart.

Because he’s shared too much. You knocked, Din answered. He opened the door and he let you past and now he has nowhere left to go but inwards. He’s cornered with no exit strategy - no option - but to close back up again and furl in on himself like a fern in the dark. Curling - evaporating - until he’s nothing but armor—nothing but mirrored edges and metal plates.

But—

you still made his breakfast and he still washed your dishes—and maybe that is enough.

///

You pass each other in the corridor, as you have done before.

You smile gently—soft as sin— and it breaks him, like it always does.

You have a hand on the rung of the ladder when he calls your name, and you turn to him, bright eyed.

“Thank you,” he rasps, “I never thanked you.”

He’s so strikingly sincere— standing there, arms dangling stiff by his sides. He looks different now, somehow— different, but the same. Fuller, bigger—smaller, too.

Human, you realize.

Your heart flutters in your chest. “Of course, Mando-“

“Din.”

You forget to breath. Time forgets to move.

“My name is Din.”

///

Din. Din Djarin.

It takes you almost a week to say it—to even utter the syllable aloud—and you only ever risk it when he’s gone on a hunt and you know you’re alone.

“You like it when I touch you like this?” you hear him say, the fabricated echo of his voice in your skull. He’s got two fingers in you—you can envision them now, clear and potent, the golden hide of them—and he moves slow as he takes you right to the edge, dancing dastardly along that cliff side before retracting himself and backing off. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s smirking; you can feel it in his fingertips, how they mock you—how they scorch into you and leer.

Even in your fantasy, he’s a prick.

“You like it when I make you cum on this filthy fucking cot?”

You keen into your hand, whimpering into your bitten raw lips. The scene is playing on without you now, writing itself. All you can do is lay here and take it, succumb to it, starved and desperate and vile as you thrash on your bedroll.

You rove your palm over your chest—

He snakes up your shirt, twisting your nipple until it’s peaked and perked under him, until you yelp with that muddled jolt of pleasure and pain. He’s lazy and fitfully unhurried, each movement sauntered and proud. He’s coaxing it out of you, this orgasm, as he kneels over you, your vision flooded with the cold menace of his beskar. Finally, tortuously, he traces his thumb over your clit, toying with you in small circles until you’re shaking—vibrating, every molecule of you—like you’re going to burst, incinerate there in your bed. He’s urgent now, demanding, and thrusting into your swollen cunt and the pressure mounting in your heat swells until, until, oh my st-

You fuck your fingers until they prune, drenched with the thought of him teasing you, stuffing you full with anything he’ll give you; his hands, his cock—Maker, his tongue. You let it roll around your mouth when you touch yourself like this in the dark belly of the ship—heels digging into your thin mattress, knees steepled together—and you’re panting, wanton and velvet, before a fist shoots up to muffle the moaned name wafting from your lips like smoke.

“Din”

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @miranhas-art @djarrex @djarinsbeskar @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled

[rextasywrites]

i heard someone's got their requests open...... SO i dont really have much other than my thirst for smut and the total conviction that leon is a boobs man (while chris is an ass man), you can't change my mind. and its not even about size, i just know that man loves him some 🍒, big or small. anyways, im also a sucker for some angst so what about a little thing where leon and the reader broke up for whatever reason but deep down they miss each other a lot and wish they have not given up so easily, and then they sleep together... for like the first time since the break up and leon is all up on her and her 🍒 that he missee so much. just smut w a little plot lmao, thank you if you consider!! :)

This has been my favourite request so far so I had to get to it right away! i hope you enjoy it anon! <3

Warnings: smut and some angst at first

It’s been a month since Leon left. After one of the worst missions he ever had to face, he decided it was enough. If he had to face zombies and bio weapons and fuck knows what else, he’d do it alone and not risk her life too. Breaking up was the wisest decision, keeping her save. As a Kennedy, she would always have a target on her back, ready to be shot at. And if another person he loves dies because of him...Leon didn’t know if he would be able to overcome the grief and sadness.

It was two in the morning when you heard someone banging against your door. Out of reflex, you grabbed the gun he had left at your apartment months ago, ‘just in case’. Now was one of those times you thought. With an unlocked gun and in your nightgown you headed towards the door. The mysterious visitor was still banging against it, saying your name over and over again. “(Y/N), (Y/N), open up!”, you’d recognize that voice anywhere. Leon. And he sounded drunk.

You placed the gun away and unlocked the door. This caught Leon by surprise and he stumbled forwards, thanks to your great reflexes you caught him before his pretty face could kiss the hardwood floor. “Leon, the fuck you doing here?”, you asked as you helped him back on his feet. Together you headed to the living room where you sat him down on the couch, getting him a glass of water.

“I miss you baby!”, Leon hip cupped during the sentence, giving you his best puppy eyes. Fuck, not the puppy eyes…

“Leon, we broke up a month ago.”, you replied as you placed the cup of ice cold water in his hands. It still hurt, and seeing him in a state like this confirmed your belief that he wasn’t taking it easily.

Leon shrugged and took a few sips from the water, pulling a face. “That’s not wodka…”, he muttered as he placed the glass down. “Anyway. I missed you and your smell and your soft hair and your boobs and…”

You sighed and cupped his cheeks, “Leon, stop it. We broke up for a reason…”

“And that reason is stupid as fuck. I miss you.”, he confessed like the drunken mess that he is, still using his puppy eyes like you. Leon tilted his head, sticking his bottom lip out, “I miss waking up to you next to me, when you drool on your pillow and your hair is all messy an-”

You cut him off. Enough is enough. You had longed for him and his touch ever since he walked out of the door of your apartment, crying just like you did. Ever since you wanted him for yourself again, your Leon. You cut him off with a soft kiss, tasting the various liquors he had dumped into his body into the hours prior to your meeting.

“Leon…”, you whispered against his lips, the stubble of his beard scratching against your cheeks as he rubbed against you. All the feelings pent up were crashing down on you, and you both couldn’t hold back the desire burning deep inside of your bodies.

“Bedroom. Now.”, Leon said as he stood up, pulling you with him. Despite his stumbling, the muscle memory told him where your bedroom was, and in no time you two were in the bed you had shared so many times. Leon pulled you into his lap, instantly burying his face between your breasts. As a breathy moan escaped your throat, Leon tugged on your nightgown. “Off.”

To his enjoyment, your nightgown found its way to your bedroom floor, and to his delight, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Damn, how I missed them”, Leon muttered as his eyes were fixed on your breasts, taking in their shape, form, even the colour of your nipples. His calloused fingers flicked your nipples, drawing a moan from your lips. Ever since he had found out they were your weakness...Nothing had stopped him from spending literal hours between them, drawing one orgasm after the other from your body.

“You sound so fucking sweet like that...missed your cute moans, babe.”, Leon growled out as he placed one hand on your hips, guiding you to grind against him. As if it was in your blood, you moved your hips against his, feeling his rather obvious bulge against your panties. “Good girl.”, Leon flicked his tongue over your nipples, one time each, just enough to make you wish for more. Your hand dug into his shoulders, a silent beg for touch and satisfaction.

The moment Leon wrapped his lips around your nipple felt as if you were floating on cloud 7. The familiar feeling of his teeth gently biting into your soft flesh, leaving marks behind to show whose girl you are. How his beard scraped ever so slightly against your skin, tiny red traces of your connection for days to admire. He sucked and licked as if his life depended on it.

Because you were so busy with the pleasure Leon brought upon you with his mouth, you didn’t realize that he had tugged your panties to the side, only when his fingers brushed against your clit was when you gasped. Leon pulled away from your tits, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple. What a sight, what a view. “Do you want this?”

“Of fucking course.”, you breathed out, and before Leon could suck on your other breast, you pulled him into another kiss, breathlessly but full of need and lust. While you kissed Leon, his fingers collected enough of your sheer endless wetness and plunged them inside of you. The stretch and calloused feeling made you feel filled up, a feeling you had longed for since Leon had last touched you. “Leon, please…”, you moaned out as he stroked over your g-spot, feeling every little bit of your inside, of the place that made you feel so good.

“Please what? Say it, little girl.”

“I want you Leon. Fuck, I need you. Now.”, and that was all Leon needed. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty and whining. You wiggled your hips while he pulled down his own jeans and took off his shirt, giving you enough time to admire the beautiful man in front of you.

Leon pulled you closer once he was undressed, leaning against the wall by the bed, guiding your hips closer to his. God, he was so beautiful with his uncut cock, standing at attention just because of you. “I missed this.”, you confessed and to your surprise, Leon agreed with you before he slowly guided himself inside of you. Fuck, how you deeply you missed his. It felt as if you two were made for each other. You needed a hot second to adjust to his size, he wasn’t so big that it would hurt, but...an impressive cock was hidden in his pants.

“Fuck, little girl, you feel so good.”, Leon groaned as he started to move his hips along with your, moving as one. He rested his head on your shoulder, one arm around your waist, the other one busy with rubbing your clit. His touch alone made you see stars, and since you hadn’t masturbated since he left, your orgasm was approaching fast.

The first waves of your orgasm caught Leon by surprise, making him look up to you. “Already?”, he asked, his lips parted and swollen from all the kisses you had shared. You nodded as another wave washed over you, and Leon felt his cock twitching inside of you. So tight, so fucking good…

“Fuck, baby”, Leon moaned against your skin, pulling you into another open mouthed kiss. The taste of alcohol was fading off, replaced with his unique taste. And fuck, it was an addicting taste. Your tongues danced together as every moan was swallowed by the other party.

It didn’t take much longer for you to cum. His thick fingers, his cock made for your pussy...together you reached your peaks, panting and moaning as the orgasms came over you. As you contracted around him, Leon filled you up to the brim, the sweetest feeling of them all with your lovers cum inside of you. Your neighbours probably heard your loud moans but at this moment, you couldn’t care less. 

As Leon went soft, his cock slipped out of you, his cum dripping out. But in this very moment you felt more connected to Leon than you had ever been, and judging by his soft smile, he felt the same.

“Come on little one, lets catch some sleep?”, Leon suggested. It wasn’t even in question that he would leave. Fuck no, this bed had been his bed for so long and now came his chance to sleep in it again. You nodded and got off his lap. After quickly drying yourself up, you joined Leon under the covers, snuggling against his chest.

With a soft yawn you dozed off in your lovers arms, but you were sure you heard Leon say, “I love you and will do so forever.”

[pynkhues]

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

[mysterious-czapla]

REACTION TO DEATH OF S/O'ʂ MOTHER - DILUC RANGVINDR

HEEEEELLLO!!!

I’ve decided to write something with Diluc... BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING, I know it sucks. It’s 12:00PM when Im writing this. 

Hope you enjoy it!

category: fluff(? idk)

characters: Diluc Ragnvindr, s/o

danger: mentions of death, crying

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I opened my front door, and as soon as I took my clothes off, I collapsed onto the floor. I started to cry... I couldn't take it anymore. The news I got few hours ago completely changed my life... My mom...she's dead. She had a heart attack this morning, and the doctors couldn't do anything to save her. An hour after my mother died, doctor called me and told me the bad news. I couldn't belive it at first, I thought this was some kind of a sick joke, but then I realized he wasn't joking. I left my work and went straight to my home, which I shared with my boyfriend, Diluc Ragnvindr. He had few days off from his work, so when I collapsed on the floor, he immiedately ran to me and helped me to get up. When he saw my face, covered in tears, he hugged me tightly and said. "Shh...It's alright...Don't cry.". Diluc was very gentle with me and he started to slowly stroke my hair with his fingers. I knew that showing affection was very hard to Diluc beacuse of his quiet personality, but when something was wrong, he wouldn't think twice and would ran to dry your eyes. When I got little better, he looked in my eyes and asked me: "Why were you crying, my dear? Did somebody do something to you?" I looked down and with my eyes being wet again, I said quietly. "My mom... She died few hours ago..." I felt Diluc's body has tense for few seconds, and after a moment of complete silence, he finally said: "I'm really sorry to hear this... She was a great person." Even though Diluc only talked to her few times, she really liked him. I remember that my mom was the one to make tacky jokes about us, but she didn't mean anything bad, of course. She said to me many times, how much she liked Diluc. He seemed like a perfect husband material to her. But right now...she will never talk to him again. Diluc and I headed to the bed, and when I laid down, he immiedately left to the kitchen. I was curious what was he doing, but that thought wasn't important right now. I started to think about my good memories with my mom... My childhood, my birthdays, spending time together during Christmas... These things were never happening again. After few minutes, Diluc came back to me. He was holding a silver tray... With some tea in it, some snacks... Also, he covered me with a blanket. I took sip of the tea he made, but I wasn't hungry at all. I didn't want to eat anything, I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Diluc sat close to me and he hugged me again, making me fell warm and...fuzzy. Diluc's body was very warm, and there was no way that you would be cold with him. After I drank the tea that Diluc made for me, I gave the cup to him and he put it on the tray. "Dear... I know It's hard for you, but your mother loves you, and she wouldn't want to see you like this..." - He said. Few seconds later, he kissed me on the forehead and I immiedately felt better. "I know, Diluc... But It's just so hard for me, she was my only family member I knew..." "And I? I am not part of your family?" "...You are." Diluc smiled and kissed me again... This time, he kissed my lips. "Don't worry... I will be with you the whole time, I'll help you get through this, I swear. " I smiled weakly and said. "Thank you... I love you." "I love you too, dear..." We ended up cuddling for next few hours, and talking about random stuff. Both of us fell asleep soon, in eachothers arms. The next day was easier for me, but still... I was becoming very depressed beacuse of it. Diluc was always ready to do anything I asked for, he was taking care of household chores, groceries, cooking... We also decided that we will go to see a specialist, that will help me even better. During the funeral, Diluc was right by my side, never leaving me alone. He was so caring to me... He even got few weeks off to help me, saying things like: "Don't mention it", "It's not that big deal, you're much more important to me that my job.". After few weeks, when you got better, you wanted to thank Diluc for everything he has done for you this entire time, but the only thing he said was" "I did it beacuse I love you... It hurts me to see you sad, so I wanted to help you..." You kissed him deeply and hugged him happily. Yeah... THIS was the man you want to spend your whole life with. 

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Sooo... Yeah. see ya

[writings-of-an-introvert]

Quick fic I wrote about that resurrection theory for RE8. I hope we get to see at least Lady Dimitrescu again considering just how much hype she got.

AO3 is linked as well.

It is strange, experiencing a beginning, or rather a new one. To return from oblivion is not a feeling many people get to experience, yet Alcina feels herself pulled from the void in to consciousness. It begins with sound, she notices; the sound of a heart beating, weakly at first, and then it begins to make an effort beating harder until it is like the drums of war in her mind; slow, steady, thunderous. Then, a breath, like a whisper through a window nearly silent; then soon it is labored and heavy, as though the one who was breathing was exhausted, taxed beyond their means.

Then came the sensation of feeling. With this dawning, she realized it was her heart and her breath thundering and rushing. She could feel her chest moving, rising and falling, heavy. She felt heavy all over. Her eyes refused to open though she willed them; for a moment she nearly believed she had opened them but simply faced a living void of madness, inky blackness still before her. She felt the muscles in her face work themselves; her brows knit together tightly holding tension in her forehead, the muscles over her cheekbones squeezed themselves together making her nose scrunch and her eyes clench tightly, her lips pursed and drew themselves into a thin line, her jaw clenched and unclenched. This tensing and untensing of muscles continued down her body, her fingertips twitching lightly. But her eyes remained shut. Her hands and feet felt cold, yet she could feel a weight over her body, a blanket perhaps. She is laying down on... something. It feels firm, it is not familiar.

Alcina laid there, hearing her heart, her breath; feeling her chest rise and fall. She still cannot will her eyes to open, not even when she feels a hand on her shoulder and a voice speak to her.

“Now, now, my Lady. You’ve still very little strength. Rest,” the voice said. Without much else, she is swept into a black dreamless sleep. The feeling of anything outside her body gone, she feels like she is floating, weightless, and suspended in air, or water; she could not tell.

Her mind began to wake next, where once thoughts of only the present and her immediate stimuli were processing, now were thoughts of the past. Memories unlocked themselves and spilled forth in front of her mind’s eye. She saw her daughters, laughing and smiling and running. She saw them awaken for the first time, the glassy looks in their eyes as they seemed to stare right through her. She heard Bela’s voice, /Mama?/ As she said it for the first time, elation filled her, she remembers that joy in that simple moment. Then she saw the ashes on the ground; in the library, the kitchen, the armory. Her gloved fingers sifting over them gently. They were gone. Something twisted and snapped in her chest. She saw /him/, scampering through her home, the evidence of his sins dusting his worn jacket. Then she saw him in the crypt. A sharp pain from her side wracks through her body. She sees herself above him, flying down at him. /She was going to kill herself and take him with her./ A scream tore itself, raging, from her chest.

Alcina tried to lash out, but something restrained her on the bed. Her strength still sapped away from her but the creaking of the bindings and the whining of their bolts told her it was perhaps coming back. She pulled harder, the scream now a pained howl. /How could life be worth anything without her daughters?/ She kept her eyes screwed shut, she wanted desperately to be swept back into oblivion, into the void of nothing. She didn’t want to be alive without them. She could feel large hot tears race down her cheeks; her howls turned into wails. She wanted to beg, she willed anything coherent to come from her mouth, but she could only muster the painful wailing, her pain beyond words. She felt the hand on her shoulder again but this time a sharp jab in her bicep followed it. A cold sensation ran its way down her arm and she felt heavy again. Her wails now choked sobs, she collapsed onto the pillow. The voice gently cooed to her.

“Hush now, my Lady, save your strength, all will be well,” it said. It was familiar, grating. Her mouth was dry and her lips felt as though they had been cut and torn but she mustered everything to speak.

“M-my... daught-ters...” she rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her lips and tongue sticking as she spoke.

“I know, my Lady, but you must rest,” it said, the hand still holding her shoulder as though she would try to sit up again. She choked and rasped a few more sobs as sleep overtook her once again, the sound of her heart and breath becoming all she could hear again. Images swirled in her mind, vague and hazy, they were memories. Some, her mind wouldn’t allow her to process, others she only recognized a feeling they brought to her. Then there was the smell. Familiar, delicious, tantalizing. She felt her chest rise quickly, letting her breathe in the scent deeply.

/Blood./

Alcina bolted upright, mouth wide open, hissing and snapping at the air, the nauseating hollow in her belly driving her mad. She felt that damned hand over her chest, holding her back. At this her eyes snapped open; the light of the world was simply too much too quickly. A white void met her vision, her eyes suddenly and sharply ached. She closed them immediately and shook her pounding head, letting out a growl of frustration.

“Ah, I feel I perhaps should have expected such a reaction. Welcome back Lady Dimitrescu.” Said the voice, now very familiar. She squinted one eye open, the white light faded to reveal a massive hazy shape. Her cracked lips curled further into a snarl.

“Tut, tut, my Lady. Come now, surely I’ve proven my loyalty.” said the voice of the Duke. Alcina’s vision cleared further to reveal the massive bulbous form of the Duke, who seemed to be navigating the room via a wheelchair. Alcina let the tension in her shoulders go as her vision continued to clear and adjust, she eyed the Duke wearily, face still twisted into a snarl.

“There,” he said, leaning over to grab a bowl from a small table beside him that Alcina couldn’t see. “Come, my dear, let’s have you eat.” He said cheerfully. Her face fell into a perturbed confusion as her arms pulled at the restraints around her wrists. The sound caught the Duke’s attention. “Ah, a safety precaution, I hope you understand. But soon they’ll not be a problem.” He said, continuing with that cheery tone. He brought the bowl before her. Alcina lurched forward, catching the restraints, her mouth opened wide again, reaching for the bowl now snatched away out of her reach, a hiss that sounded more like a growl streamed from her parched throat. “Now, my Lady, I understand your fervor, however, this behavior is quite unbecoming.” Said the Duke, sternly, though Alcina could see the smug expression on his face, he was enjoying this, “Please,” he continued, “Allow me."

Alcina straightened up, watching the Duke settle again in his chair and bring the bowl to her lips. He tilted the bowl gently allowing the blood to run over her lips. Her hands tried to dart up and take the bowl herself, but they caught on the restraints. Her arms shook as she tried to fight and pull against the bindings. She sucked hungrily at the rim of the bowl, loudly swallowing large mouthfuls of blood. The bowl was emptied within moments and Alcina gasped loud ragged breaths as the Duke set the bowl aside, he grabbed a cloth and dabbed at the sides of her mouth.

Alcina sat there, staring upwards through half-lidded eyes at the middle distance, feeling satisfied, still taking in deep ragged breaths. Finally, after what felt like hours, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“My daughters... were-” her voice was low and raspy, she tried not to pay attention to the way it wavered.

“You have just awoken, my dear. Please, lay back,” he said holding up a hand to silence her, she didn’t like being interrupted, but she did as she was instructed. She watched him dig for something in a pocket and pull out a small key. He leaned forward and unlocked the first of two cuffs holding her to the bed. He leaned back and moved to the other side of the bed to undo the other cuff. Once both her hands were free, she massaged her wrists where the leather chafed against her skin.

“If you are feeling up to it, my Lady, I can have a bath drawn,” he said. Despite the sustenance she had just received mere moments ago, her head swam at the very thought of standing. She could feel her knees tremble under the blanket.

“Not just yet, I think,” she said.

“Very well, continue your rest, I shall check on you again in the morning,” he said as he wheeled his way around the bed towards a door that stood ajar.

“Duke,” she called out, but he was faster than she anticipated and he disappeared through the door closing it behind him. Alcina sat back against the wall. Oh, what a sight she must be, no makeup, hair a mess, and wearing some plain threadbare nightgown. She felt her eyes stinging and her lip began to tremble. Her mind turned back to her daughters; only they had ever seen her without makeup, on days when she had not washed her hair, when she did not have the will to leave her bed. They’d come and curl up beside her, it was one of the rare occasions they didn’t bicker. She’d wrap them all up in her sheets and her blankets and hold them to her tightly, the next day she’d be up and have a full face of makeup on and her hair clean and curled before they awoke. Now, she was alone again. Alcina hugged her knees up to her chest and let her forehead rest against them letting her tears fall freely until she laid on her side and fell asleep once more.

Morning came far too quickly for Alcina’s liking. The Duke returned and had pulled the curtains away from the window, letting the grey light from an overcast sky flood the simple wooden room. Her eyes ached and she pulled the blanket over her head, burying her face in the pillow. He was humming some drole tune that grated against her ears. She rolled her eyes as she heard something shift beside her, figuring it was the Duke getting ready to pull back the blanket from her grasp, but he never did. Instead, he stopped, Alcina slowly drew the blanket back to look at him, he was staring at her with a gentle smile upon his features.

“What?” she snapped; her voice still hoarse from crying most of the previous night.

“I brought you a change of clothes, my Lady, something I think you’ll be far more comfortable in,” he said gesturing to a large bundle of clothes on the bedside table. She reached out and touched it. /Silk./ She tilted her head and picked up the garment, she recognized it immediately. She clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, she pressed the white dress to her cheek. It was her favorite dress, comfortable yet elegant enough for her tastes. She turned to look at the Duke once more, opening her mouth to speak to him.

“I have drawn a bath just in the next room for you, my Lady, I think you’ll find the size accommodating,” he said over his shoulder in the doorway, “I encourage you to hurry, however, I have a request for your presence.”

Alcina stopped, who would want to speak with her? Surely, Ethan Winters succeeded in his mission, Mother Miranda must be dead. And to the rest of the world, so was Alcina Dimitrescu. Surely, there were no survivors in Ethan Winters’ wake. Perhaps she heard the Duke wrong, perhaps it was a jest. There was no one awaiting her return, surely. A cruel joke, to be sure, but perhaps she was meant to be the butt of every cruel joke, she had been so far.

She tentatively swung one leg after the other over the edge of the bed. Her feet met cold, polished wooden floors. She took a moment to ground herself, her legs still felt shaky but she pushed herself to stand, bracing against the wall. She grasped the dress and clean undergarments in one hand and leaned against the wall with the other as she made her way to the door to the bathroom. And to her surprise, as she ducked through the doorway, the Duke had been truthful. A giant claw foot ceramic tub sat in the cramped space, steam rising from it. Alcina breathed in the steam and could smell the soap and oils he used in the bath. She placed her dress and undergarments gently on the sink and slipped off the dreadful cotton nightgown she had been wearing.

The water felt divine as she sank in to her chin, she took a deep breath and dipped her head under the surface. She held her head under the water for as long as she could, listening to her heart as it beat in her chest. She came up out of the water with a small gasp, her eyes fluttering open. She found soap, shampoo, and conditioner and got to work scrubbing herself clean. She took her time lavishing in the hot water and scented oils, and when her fingers had begun to wrinkle, she pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub and let the water drain. She stood, dried herself, and wrapped her hair in the towel to let it soak the water from her hair. She walked back over to her clothes and carefully put them on. Once she was dressed, she found a small golden canister at the bottom of the sink, as though she had knocked it over and hadn’t noticed. She picked it up, it was a tube of lipstick, familiar in her fingers, she opened it.

Alcina let out another little gasp of surprise, it was her custom lipstick, from the castle. From home. Her eyes snapped up to the mirror and she quickly put the lipstick on. She pressed her lips together to ensure it was even, and then she smiled. Her smile quickly faded, there wasn’t much reason to smile anymore. She sighed heavily and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked different, while still tall and strong looking, her skin was no longer gray; pale still certainly, but there was color in her cheeks. She traced a finger delicately over her cheekbone. How long had it been since any natural color had graced her features? Surely, long before her daughters were ever a glimmer in her eye.

There was no curling iron, but there was a comb. She thought about trying to wrestle with her hair without the proper product in it. /Perhaps it won’t be so bad if it's still wet.../ She hummed a moment. /No, better to let it dry the way it is and try again when I have the proper supplies./ She unwrapped her hair from the towel and let it flow gently over her shoulders, perhaps she should at least braid it. So, she did, loosely and messy with pieces sticking out here and there, but at least it was away from her face.

Alcina knew she had taken quite a while, perhaps she had kept her “audience” waiting, but she was hardly sure there actually was one. She strode over to the door of her room to meet the Duke, she opened it and saw him waiting just on the other side, hand still in the air as though he were getting ready to knock.

“Ah, there you are, looking ravishing as always, my Lady,” he said. Alcina nodded.

“Thank you, Duke. However, under the circumstances, I am aware I do not look my best,” she said. He waved a hand at her.

“Nonsense, now, come along. There are some lovely individuals just longing to see you,” he said. Alcina looked down at him, brows knit together in confusion.

“Who exactly?” She asked.

“All in good time, my dear,” he said. Alcina scoffed and rolled her eyes in frustration. She hated secrets, but because of their agreement, Alcina couldn’t use her usual methods of forcing out secrets. She walked slowly beside the Duke, trying to keep pace with him and not walk too far ahead. The house they were in was large, but it was not her castle. Where exactly she was, she didn’t know, but at least she could walk comfortably upright here. She walked beside the Duke for what felt like quite a long time, but as they approached the first floor, Alcina could hear chatter. Something about the noise made her chest tighten. She lengthened her stride, walking ahead of the Duke, he did not seem to protest, and even if he did, she didn’t hear him. A laugh rang out and Alcina found herself nearly flying down the staircase, taking two at a time, her bare feet hit cold marble with a small smack. Her eyes widened; it couldn’t be... She could hear the voices distinctly now as she rounded towards the kitchen, but she still couldn’t see them, tears rolled down her bare face once more. /It wasn’t possible./ She called out to the voices.

“Bela!” Her desperation made her voice crack. The voices halted.

“Daniela!” Her voice broke as a sob escaped her. She could hear quick footsteps approaching.

“Cassandra!” She cried. She broke into a run towards the sound of the footsteps. Her dress tangled in her legs and was caught under her foot, both her feet were swept out from under her as she tried to round another corner. She hit the floor with a loud thud that seemed to shake the room. She was dazed for just a moment as the breath was knocked from her. She felt something fall on top of her, warm and soft. She looked up with blurry tear-filled eyes and saw a head of red hair burying itself under her chin, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. There was a jolt of force from beside her as someone else clung to her, all of them shaking. She looked and saw a flash of dark brown hair settle over her shoulder. And finally, one last jostle and Alcina turned again and saw bright blonde hair covering shaking shoulders.

“My sweet girls!” She cried. "Let me look at you, come here.” They all looked up and moved to sit in front of her, tears streaming down each face, each set of eyes red and puffy, all four of them gasping and sobbing, clinging to each other. Alcina grasped each woman’s face in her hands tightly and brought them to her face to kiss them all over and wipe their tears away. Once she had kissed each of them a million times and her mouth was sore from pressing it against her daughters’ faces, she pulled them in as tightly as she could and cried. It was like a dream, sitting there with them again and Alcina prayed that it wouldn’t end. She heard a sound behind her, her head whipped around to look, tightening her hold on her daughters as if they’d be whisked away again. It was the Duke, he simply smiled and nodded to her and turned to leave the room and let the women have their reunion.

Alcina turned back to look at her daughters once more, they all looked at her, eyes wide and red.

“We missed you, Mama,” said Bela sniffling. /Mama/, like music to her ears. Alcina placed a hand on her cheek.

“And I have missed you more than life itself, draga mea.” She said.

[sweeethinny]

Abstinence (M)

Summary: ''I told you, I don't know how to live without you anymore, it's like you're my drug and I'm an addict.”

"What a bad comparison." They laughed, Harry hugging her tighter. Ginny rested her head close to his collarbone, feeling entirely happy. She was so happy he was home.

"I know." Harry kissed her head. "But that's how I feel."

or

Harry and Ginny haven't had much time alone, until after being gone for three days, Harry comes back feeling abstinent from his favorite drug.

Notes: I wrote this for @blvnk-art's Smut Hinny Sundays, and hope you all like it I wasn't inspired by a specific art of hers, but by several I was also inspired by the song All The Time - Jeremih

AO3

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Ginny sighed as she got home, taking off her cloak and shoes, her feet tired after all those hours of practice, her arms sore too. Gwenog seemed to want to kill her now that she was back.

It was great to be back, Ginny was glad she had made that decision six months ago, but her body still wasn't used to all that burden of being a mother and playing Quidditch, and strength training was always the worst, leaving her more tired than usual and with even more pain in her arms.

At least, Ginny thought, Harry was staying at home more, which helped her not to spend all the hours she was away worrying about James and whether he was okay. The boy was staying part-time in day care - in the afternoon - and so far they hadn't had a problem with anything, James even seemed happier now that he was with other kids.

"Babe?" Ginny called, walking past their house which was silent, which was weird since James didn't seem to be a big fan of silence. But Harry didn't show up anywhere, all the lights in there were off, which Ginny assumed was because he'd already put James to sleep and was upstairs.

She was happy, thinking that maybe she could get a massage that night—or even something more.

Walking slowly up the stairs, afraid to make a noise, she arrived in front of James' room, smiling when she saw that Harry was sleeping sitting in the rocking chair, the little one lying on his arm, sleeping clutching his shirt. It was such a cute scene that Ginny thought her heart might melt, still unaccustomed, even after almost two years, to how Harry was such a lovely father.

He had become another man now that they had James, Harry was much more careful at work, and much more affectionate. Not that he hadn't gone before, but it looked like James had freed him from the fear of showing. Harry cried more easily, wasn't afraid to play and do childish things with Teddy and James, and let them teach him everything he didn't know. Like last week James had made Harry realize he needed to eat more slowly— "Swow, Daddy," James had said, and now he seemed a lot less anxious and rushed into eating.

Even more careful now not to wake her son, Ginny approached the chair, kissing Harry's forehead and shaking him slowly, just so he woke up and put James in his crib so they could go to bed together.

"Hi," Harry whispered, a faint smile on his lips. His face was a little scrunched up from the pillows, his cheeks red with heat, probably because he had lit the fireplace in the living room.

"Hi." Ginny gave him a quick peck. “Shall we go to bed?” She ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes and straightening his crooked glasses. He nodded, taking a deep breath and stretching his legs, looking at James who didn't move in his arms.

"He didn't want to leave me today." Harry stood up, looking worried as he laid his son on his own bed, but as always after he fell asleep, James made no sign that he was going to wake up. Little hands ran to grab the yellow blanket Hermione had given him, and Ginny covered him with the other blanket, not wanting him to be cold at night. She kissed his forehead and lifted the crib enclosure, thinking that soon that wouldn't be enough to stop James from getting out of bed.

'You were gone for three days, he missed you' Ginny reminded him, hugging Harry and resting her head on his chest, letting him drag her towards their bedroom, feeling finally at home now that he was there.

Harry had gone away to a conference in Spain, and it had been a long three lonely days where she had the bed all to herself - sometimes James would cry to stay with her through the night, seeming to realize that things weren't the same without his daddy there.

"I missed you guys too." Harry kissed her head. 'I need to take a shower.'

"Me too, Gwenog today seemed to want to kill us in practice, I even thought maybe she was punishing us for something... You know, she's crazy sometimes."

'I know. Robards was about to lose his hair at the conference, telling everyone he would go crazy if he heard one more lecture.” Harry went into their bathroom, turning on the shower and starting to undress. Ginny had missed that routine and intimacy.

She took off her clothes too, tossing them in the laundry hamper, their cold room making her skin crawl. "We have a party to go to on Saturday."

"A party?" Harry grimaced, stepping under the shower.

‘Yes, I promised we would. Sorry, there was no other way out.' She followed, re-embracing Harry and resting her head on his now bare chest, the water splashing between them, relaxing her muscles. "It's a fundraiser for an orphaned children's charity… It'll be quick, we'll stay for an hour or two, then we'll go back." She promised, giving him what she hoped was her best look. Harry sighed and nodded, tightening his arms around her, pulling their bodies closer together.

‘Okay, we will. But two hours at most.” Ginny nodded, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, lifting her hands to cup his face, pulling him into a deeper kiss, never wanting to let go. Harry squeezed her hips, letting her feel his cock that was beginning to show signs of life.

The kiss started to get hotter faster than she expected, soon Harry had picked her up and pushed her against the cold wall, squeezing her waist tighter and thrusting his tongue deeper into her mouth, as if suddenly a key had turned inside him and Harry had been as hungry as she was.

Ginny pulled at his hair, moaning into his mouth and scratching at his scalp trying to make him as crazy as he was leaving her, his teeth playing with her lip and his hands going down to her ass and squeezing.

“Fuck, I missed this.” Harry moaned as she tightened her legs around him, her wet intimacy touching his already hard cock.

They hadn't had a lot of time to get laid now that James was older, the boy seemed to have the right timing to want his parents whenever they were too close to each other, either to pee or because he was bored and hunger. Ginny had already accepted that by the weekend they would be too tired to do anything but sleep, and that getting laid would have to be for weekdays, during the morning shower, a quickie before James woke up.

"Me too." Ginny thought she might lose her mind at any moment, almost screaming when his trained fingers touched her swollen clit, throwing her head back and biting her lip to keep the noises back.

"The last few days I felt like a fucking teenager thinking about you." Harry whispered in her ear, his thick voice making her moan. “Thinking of you on top of me, below, on the side, on all fours…” He continued, biting the sensitive skin of her neck. "As much as I love getting laid in the shower, I miss a bed."

"Yes, shit, Harry yes." Ginny would agree to flee this planet right now if he continued to touch her like that.

She didn't pay much attention to the next few minutes between him turning off the shower, applying a basic dry spell on their bodies, and walking into their bedroom, waking up only when Harry threw her onto the bed, looking like a hungry animal climbing on top of her, his mouth traveling all over her body, sucking and biting the inside of her thighs until it reached the top and licked her clit. All the tension from practice, the daily worries, everything, was gone when his mouth touched her there and did all those wonders to her.

Ginny still remembered the first time Harry had done that to her, that hot, muggy summer after the war, one sunny afternoon when Harry had taken her to her room, all nervous and anxious, saying he wanted to try something new. It was good, confusing, but good. But now, Merlin, now it was perfect. There were no toys that came close to what he did, all that erotic dance with his tongue, taking her to the peak and making her enjoy the delicious fall more and more.

Her throat went dry, her scream scratching as Harry sucked on her clit, his arms holding Ginny firmly in place, preventing her from moving any further.

She saw stars, can't wait any longer, thighs trembling as she began to come, trying not to scream too loudly so that nothing could stand in the way of them both.

"I feel like a new man," Harry said, wiping his beard and moving up to be level with her face, a naughty grin plastered across his face. "Making you come is the best thing in the world." He kissed her, but Ginny was still too much in the clouds to reciprocate in a very excited way, her body looking like jelly on the bed.

"I wish I could suck you back babe, but I miss you inside of me." Ginny muttered, biting his lower lip and moving down to kiss his jaw and neck.

'I don't care too much about it, I want to be inside you too soon' Harry moaned as she spun them around, taking advantage of the fact that he was too focused on her mouth on his neck, and Ginny snuggled into his lap, jerking him a little to buy time for herr body to be ready again. “Fuck, you're going to kill me.” His green eyes darkened, rolling in their sockets.

"Don't die before you fuck me." Ginny chuckled as he moaned once more, her hand tightening a little more at the base of his dick as Harry liked, already sensing she was almost ready.

"No, not in a million years." He arched his back, biting his lip and seeming to try hard not to get carried away before they even started. "I feel like an abstinence junkie."

"I'm glad my pussy has that effect on you." She blinked at him who admired her as if Ginny were a Goddess. She felt so desired when he looked at her like that.

She couldn't take it anymore, she lifted her hips, adjusting to take him inside her, moaning in satisfaction at the feel of Harry opening her, needing to lean against his chest so she wouldn't fall once she was fully seated. That was one of her favorite positions, he touched her in that delicious spot that made Ginny lose consciousness and be taken by fire.

"Fuck." Harry squeezed her hips to keep her from moving, closing his eyes as if in pain, his back arching on the bed. 'Fuck, you feel so good.' Ginny tensed her muscles as she'd learned in that magazine she read in her gynecologist's office, and Harry seemed to lose whatever sanity was left in him, moaning loudly and still clenching his hands, almost to the point of hurting her.

"Like it?" she asked, a satisfied smirk on her face, even though it had taken her out of her orbit as well. Harry nodded, finally letting her move.

"So good," he muttered, finally opening his eyes and staring at her, the green iris making her blush. His hands moved from her hips to her breasts, pinching and massaging her sensitive nipples, and Ginny nearly lost her rhythm and fell on top of Harry with the teasing.

Neither of them could say much more, Ginny quickened her movement, interspersed with the contractions that made her and Harry moan and lose their minds more and more, each time feeling closer to coming again. His trained hands roamed her body, to her nipples, and then to her sensitive clit, playing just enough to make her feel pleasure and not pain.

Ginny thought she would go crazy if she didn't come soon.

Harry looked the same, because suddenly he couldn't wait any longer, squeezing her hips and lifting his, rushing his thrusts and fucking her as if it made him come alive. She didn't care too much, because she felt the same way.

It wasn't long before they both came, Ginny bent down and captured Harry's lips before he made too much noise and woke James, kissing him to keep himself sane, her nails firmly on his shoulders as that electric shock took over her body, the ripples making her lose control.

"I love you," she whispered, feeling Harry pull out of her and his cum trickle out. They would deal with that mess in a little while, Ginny needed to breathe first.

"Me too." Harry looked the same mess as her, body sweaty and arms trembling, he smiled at her. ‘I'm glad to be home again, not having you to sleep at night is unbearable.’

"Just to sleep?" Ginny joked, looking at him like he was still that 16 year old boy she was madly in love with, feeling a lot of new things and not being able to go to sleep without smiling.

'For everything. I told you, I don't know how to live without you anymore, it's like you're my drug and I'm an addict.”

"What a bad comparison." They laughed, Harry hugging her tighter. Ginny rested her head close to his collarbone, feeling entirely happy. She was so happy he was home.

"I know." Harry kissed her head. "But that's how I feel."