#I wonder what he does in the privacy of his quarters...we really on see him meditating or reading

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 17] Little Things Grown with Care.

[lwjsbedtime]

I keep thinking about this awkward Dragonji situation where Foxxian baby traps himself, and it makes me laugh so here it is.

For the sake of my brain goblins, dragons are born from eggs in this AU and have a custom of laying them as a sort of courtship offer to compatible mates. HOWEVER, in practice this usually only happens after an engagement has been arranged between families (and if you really want to be proper, after the wedding ceremony).

Dragon families make a big fuss about new eggs, to the point where it's more expected to try for one on the wedding night, rather than, uh...the usual stuff. A newly wed dragon's room will be filled with the supplies to make a nice, warm nest, the air filled with soothing incense designed to relax a fertile dragon's muscles - everything conductive for laying! It's a very important, very private, very sacred part of draconic nature, and as such is treated with incomparable respect. It's seen as a rite of passage that marks the beginning of adulthood for those with the ability to brood.

Only those closest to the dragon may be present for the laying, and sometimes not even they will be allowed to participate, if the one nesting deems it too awkward for them to entertain guests.

So of course, Dragonji becomes livid when - on the third day of the Jiang disciples being in CR - Foxxian manages to fluster him so badly that he spontaneously lays an egg. Right. In. The. Middle. Of. A. Walkway.

No wooing, no bride price, not even an ounce of privacy or concern for his dignity. That...shameless little fox has him birthing his firstborn on the same path his uncle strolls along to digest his lunch!

At first, he thinks he can hide what's happened by squeezing his thighs together. He cannot. The egg ricochets down the leg of his pants, out onto the path, before it bounces across the grass, merrily as anything. He can see Foxxian out of the corner of his eye watching it as it arcs through the air.

It's the most mortifying moment of his life. He can feel a qi deviation coming on. This will literally be the end of him - physically and otherwise. The situation's only saving grace is that no one else saw him lay his egg on the side of the road like some trollop - only WWX.

Foxxian, blissfully unaware of the reproductive habits of dragons, thinks Dragonji has been sneaking food around to eat between classes. He takes this as a sign that LWJ is secretly a fellow Rule Breaker. Obviously, this makes them best friends.

Wwx: See Lan Zhan? I keep telling everyone this place doesn't offer enough food. How am I meant to sustain myself on vegetables? If we can't have meat, why not at least offer eggs? We're growing boys! We need the nutrients!

Lwj, meanwhile: Does he… Does he want to eat my baby?! 

LWJ will not stand for such disrespect from the fath- from the...annoying witness of this egg debacle. He stomps over to collect his egg, shooting a scathing glare at WWX before storming off in a huff. 

Wwx: 🤨 Did I say something? I wasn't going to steal the egg! It's yours! You eat it!

----

After a good while of sulking (wondering why WWX wants to eat their LWJ's child) LWJ drags himself to his uncle's quarters to notify him of what occurred. As much as he'd rather keep his shame to himself, he needs his elders' advice.

Only a small percentage of the dragon population is capable of laying eggs, and those who can tend to have very few come to term. The Lan have therefore made a point of ensuring each one is tested for viability, and treated with care. 

Of course, the laying of a new egg is usually cause for celebration, preceded by a long engagement and a wedding night. Occasionally an unmated dragon manages to brood by themselves, but they're soon betrothed in order to create a healthy environment for their egg's upbringing. It's all very structured and proper. LWJ knows that he will be seen as a disappointment for laying an egg so recklessly; that he will be expected to now wed - quickly.

LWJ doesn't want to get married. He selfishly hopes the egg isn't viable, so he can pretend this whole humiliating fiasco never happened.

It is.

Lan Qiren informs him in no uncertain terms that it must be fertilised - soon. Of course - as LWJ expected - for such a thing to occur outside of marriage would be unthinkable for a son of the main line. A child must have two parents to nurture their development, after all, even if neither of them particularly care for one another. It's everything Dragonji feared.

LQR delivers a list of potential husband candidates for his nephew. LWJ finds a reason to refuse each one. None of them are fit to raise his children. Certainly none could ever convince him to lay another egg for them. Least of all NMJ. Really, what was Uncle thinking?! He's one of xiongzhang's dearest friends! That would be like wedding a particularly opinionated cousin - legal, but personally repellent. And he'd have to tolerate NHS for the rest of his life!

He quickly strikes another name from the list. Best not to linger too long on his uncle's reasoning - if he gives the man any leeway, he'll soon find himself married to someone truly insipid, like Su Minshan.

Meanwhile, LQR calls his eldest nephew to his study to discuss Very Important Sect Business.

Lqr: Why is Wangji so picky? I thought he liked NMJ?

Lxc: …Uncle, I also like NMJ. It does not mean I'd like to marry NMJ. Those are…different feelings entirely. 

Lqr: 😡 You haven't laid any eggs willy-nilly, child. Your brother has. Surely he would prefer to raise his offspring with someone close to him; someone of similar values.

Lan Xichen hums in consideration.

Lxc: What about the person who caused him to lay it?

Lqr: The who? 🙈

Lxc: 😮‍💨 WWX, Uncle. The Jiang head disciple.

Lqr: The who? 🙉

Lxc: I've been told he's a mischief maker, and follows Wangji around like a lovesick babe?

Lqr: 🙊 The wh- What do you mean lovesick? If that brat even thinks about touching WJ's egg, I'll- 😡

As Lan Qiren continues his rant, WWX is in the midst of breaking into the Jingshi. He's noticed, of late, that LWJ is evading him (more than usual). He's also noticed the little pouch he's started carrying around his neck - one with an egg nestled in it.

From the distinctive speckle pattern, he's been able to discern it's the same egg every day. So, not a snack, despite the very snack-like sensations the sight of it stirs within his little fox belly. He thinks it might be Significant in some way, but he also doesn't particularly care - LWJ never pays attention to him anymore, and it's all that dumb egg's fault! 

WWX has decided the egg needs to go. He's going to eat it. 😡😡

After ascertaining no stray LWJs remain inside the cottage, he slides open the door, steps in, and begins to snoop.

It doesn't take long to uncover the egg, laying snuggled up amongst LWJ's blankets. His stomach boils hot with jealousy. That's his spot! If LWJ paid attention to him instead of the egg, he could be sleeping in that pile of blankets! Don't ask him why he'd want to do that - he doesn't know. 

Annoyed, WWX snaps the egg up between his clawed fingertips. He licks his lips. He can't help the way the stupid egg makes him drool - and it is a truly stupid egg! Not slightly pretty at all! (But WWX is forgiving. He'll eat any kind of egg. He is a fox after all.)

WWX channels a small spark of qi into the egg, hoping to boil it to perfection before gobbling it up in one go. 

The egg starts to crack. 

WWX quirks a brow. He wasn't expecting that at all. Did he underestimate his strength? Is he scrambling his eggy by mistake? He passes a smaller, tamer amount of energy into the egg.

The egg cracks some more.

WWX contemplates scarfing his snack down as-is, but something tells him not to. This strange feeling in his gut… He's never eaten a glowing egg before, but it looks like it might give him indigestion. Besides, he feels...oddly protective of it, considering how annoyed he is about its existence.

While WWX navigates his inner turmoil, the egg's shell shatters. A blinding light floods the room. WWX hisses in shock, dropping the egg's remains to the ground. 

A moment later, the remains move. Something rams into his boot.

He stares down at it.

A little noodle blinks up at him. It lets out a small, shrill chirp. Foxxian's eyes widen. 

Oh no. 

Oh no, the egg turned into a dragon! He almost ate a dragon! WWX feels ill. He retches a little and the noodle copies him, shrieking happily into the air.

Hastily, he picks the noodle up. If anyone hears a baby screaming, they'll come in and find him! Here! In LWJ's room, totally not attempting to eat one of the Lans' young!

WWX gently rocks the baby in his arms, hoping to soothe it.

Wwx: Hush little eggy. Babies are meant to be quiet, you know.

Eggy: 💬🗯️🗯️🗯️

WWX shushes the noodle again, holding it tightly. He was so sure he could gaslight the little dragon, too. Turns out noodle babies are smart - they know children exist to yell.

Now he understands why LWJ was so focused on it. He must have been babysitting for a relative, concerned they'd miss their eggy's Very LOUD birth. Then the eggy would drive the entirety of CR insane with their cries! It's all very much against the rules.

He sighs. Poor LWJ. WWX doesn't think he would handle this situation very well. He doesn't even like it when WWX talks slightly above normal volume. How on earth would he deal with a baby dragon? Especially when baby dragons apparently sound very much like screaming fox kits... Who knew?

WWX thinks for a moment, bouncing the newborn noodle in his arms. The best course of action, he decides, is to leave LWJ's home and pretend he knows nothing about the baby. At all. The egg was obviously due soon, anyway. As soon as someone hears the crying, they'll certainly come to collect the little screamer.

The noodle lets out a contented sigh, its eyes fluttering shut as WWX rocks it. Soon, a soft purring can be heard from its throat. WWX was not aware dragons could purr. Does LWJ purr? Can WWX make him purr?

He shakes his head to clear it. He simply cannot stay. If LWJ ever found out WWX tried to eat a dragon youngling out of spite, he'd never speak to him again.

He places the now-quiet noodle back on the bed, and turns to leave. As he walks away, he feels something constrict around his calf. WWX glances down to see the baby noodle has wrapped itself around his leg. It opens its little snout and lets out a cute hiss. WWX steadfastly refuses to melt. He needs to leave! Not coo over the thought of a whole batch of baby dragons slithering around in a group. 

Where would he even get a whole bunch of baby noodles from? Who would put him in charge of them? Silly Foxxian!

Gently, he coaxes the noodle off his leg. It latches onto his wrist. He pulls it off his wrist. It whines and slithers around the length of his index finger.

WWX's having a really bad time. Why are little noodles so hard to leave? He feels like crying. 😭

Suddenly, the door to the house slides open. WWX's heart rate picks up.

It's LWJ.

LWJ is looking at him with wide, shocked eyes. WWX has clearly lingered too long. He's been caught noodle-fingered!

Wwx: It's not what you think!

Lwj: It's not.

Lwj (internally): weiyingbabydaddyweiyingbabydaddyweiyingbabydaddyweiyin-

WWX holds up the finger with the noodle on it.

Wwx: I was not trying to eat this noodle!

Eggy: 🗯️🗯️🗯️

Lwj: ...

Lwj (internally): -gbabydaddy... Why does he keep trying to eat our children?!

Lwj: Why do you keep trying to eat our children?

Wwx: ...Our what?

Lwj: The dragon in your hands. Eggs only hatch when fertilised with their father's qi.

Wwx: 😳 ...Okay, that one's on me, but our what?

Lwj: WY, you caused me to lay that egg. It is our egg.

WWX looks at the noodle. He looks to LWJ. He looks back to the noodle. He recalls.

WWX stands inhumanly still, horrified.

Wwx (whispered): I tried to eat our child...

Eggy: 🗯️🗯️🗯️

He holds his little noodle close.

Wwx: No, no, Eggy. Father will protect you forever.

Eggy: 🗯️🗯️🗯️

(The noodle is getting a little impatient. It wants to go to its other parent, but WWX isn't carrying it, and it's so smol. It cannot reach its baba. 😭)

The noodle nips WWX on the finger. He flinches. It shrieks in his face, glowering.

WWX melts.

Wwx: 😻 Aw, just as grumpy as your mother. Just as pretty too! 💖

Lwj: ...

Lwj (internally): 😳🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️🗯️

Lwj: ...We are not calling our child 'Eggy'.

WWX saunters close enough for the noodle to fling itself up on LWJ's chest. (At last! Egg Parent is soft and warm!) He grins.

Wwx: Why not? It's cute.

Lwj: ...I will fight you.

WWX nudges him playfully.

Wwx: Come on. You can name the next one~

LWJ's eyes widen.

Lwj: The next-?! Shameless!

WWX bursts into laughter.

Wwx: You're the one who gave birth to our child in public. Do you really have the face to call me that?

LWJ glowers at him, much like the noodle had, causing WWX to break into a greater fit of hysterics.

Lwj (muttered): See if I ever let you touch my eggs again...

Wwx: Huh?

Lwj: I said 🗯️🗯️🗯️

WWX is both blown away and intrigued by the interesting noises Lan er gongzi can make when he's not hellbent on being quiet...

He smiles slowly, confident he'll have time to investigate the matter on a much more intimate level later. After all, LWJ and he have an Eggy to raise! He's sure he can wear his little dragon down with his fox charms eventually.

A perfect future in sight, WWX scritches under Eggy's chin fondly.

Wwx: What a good boy. Daddy would never eat you.

Lwj: 😳😳

Lwj: ...Do not spoil him.

WWX grins. He reaches out to scritch under LWJ's chin, as well.

Wwx: LZ is also a good boy. ...Daddy promises to eat you vigorously, whenever you want. 😏

Lwj: 🥺😡Wei Ying!!!

----

LQR suffers immensely upon marrying that hooligan fox into his family.

He suffers significantly less when covered in babies.

----

Wangxian go on to hatch eleven siblings for Eggy (A-Yuan) in quick succession, making a neat dozen. It's the largest number of noodles any dragon has ever birthed in written history.

----

After the birth of their third child, LWJ publishes a thesis on the benefits of pre-fertilising eggs before they're laid, by integrating mammalian conception techniques into brooding.

His brother can't look him in the eye for at least a year after (about as long as it takes for the pre-fertilised egg to come out fully boiled). There are some things LXC truly...did not need to know about his brother's body (more specifically, how it reacts to the body of his BIL).

Much as with his uncle, the baby noodles ease his suffering.

----

A-Yuan's parents manage to embarrass him very much without permanently scarring him. He looks back on his childhood fondly.

He also decides to never lay a single egg in his entire life (nor have one laid for him). His parents accept this stance wholeheartedly. To dissuade LQR from pestering their baby boy, Wangxian get to work on creating another noodle.

----

The dragons go from a near-endangered species to populous over the course of a century, at which point Wangxian decide to take a break from baby making to travel the rest of the world.

Uncle Qiren is most upset about this sudden deviation from new babies for him. He cries into the mane of his youngest niece (who is just slightly too big to be a lapnoodle).

He gets over the disappointment eventually.

----

They all live happily, and live well.

----

BONUS:

Lan disciples upon seeing LWJ with an egg: Wow, who would have thought LWJ was such a loose slut?

Guest disciples upon seeing LWJ with an egg: ...Weird. Is it a cultivation thing?

WWX in the exact same situation: The egg. 😡 Has. 😡 MY. 😡 Attention. 🤬🤬 I wILl EaT iT!!!

----

Additional thought: LWJ wanted his mother to be there with him to witness the laying of his first egg, stroking his hair and speaking soft words into his ear. He got the fast food experience of birth instead.

----

I don't care what anyone says. This is my masterpiece.

I'm going to order some takeout now because I can't stop thinking about egg noodles. 🍜 (I don't know who needs to hear this, but you also deserve some noodles today. Go get them. Do it. As a treat.)

[gryffindormischief]

Prompt: After a busy period in their respective works, married hinny cant find time to be intimate even though the kids are at hogwarts and they have the house all to themselves. Finally having enough of not seeing each other, one of them storms into the office of the other

A/N: A combo of 3 prompts (other 2 listed below)! I won't say any of the are exactly following the prompt because that would be a definite lie. I got carried away with the inspiration and this happened. Hope you like! It's my first hinny in what feels like a super long time??

FF // Ao3

“I am very young, very foolish, and very in love with you.”

AHEM do one where uh AHEM Harry and Ginny are left alone while everyone else is buying their Christmas presents and they ᵇᵃⁿᵍ and Ginny is like ᵃ ᵇᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ and they almost get caught but like they dont and the next day Ron finds out and is pissed NEY livid at Harry and Hermione and Neville calm him down Jus wondering man 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

----

Operose

It sounds great when your supervisor says ‘shadow me’, at least theoretically it does. Experience, new learning opportunities, the unspoken expectation that this means promotions are in your future. Even better when your husband gets a similar offer from his supervisor and you start to sound like a power couple even if you feel a bit like an imposter, like the 14-year-old version of yourself woke up in your 22-year-old body, like you’ve secretly fooled everyone into thinking you’re competent.

But really that’s not the worst of it, because Ginny’s become a bit of an expert in talking herself out of that kind of mindset. It’s peaks and valleys. The real sticking point of trouble is the fact that between work and family, she and Harry haven’t had that magic combination of time, energy, and privacy to allow for a conversation about everything, let alone some bonding that’s less conversational in the traditional sense.

Regardless, Ginny hardly has enough time to think about what she wants to be doing since she barely has time enough to do what she must. And it might seem the best option is drawing boundaries with the family but it’s nearing Christmas and she can’t resist the little puppy dog looks starting with Molly and running all the way through the group to Teddy and Victoire. Sometimes, in her sleep deprived stupors looking over more gameplay strategy charts than she ever dreamed of as captain in her 7th year, Ginny wonders if Ron’s convinced them all to join his conspiracy to prevent her from getting any. Lucky for her brother, Ginny knows her judgment has to be clouded, because it’s quarter past eight and she’s actually excited she might wrap up ‘early’, which lately has come to mean before ten.

With a long suffering sigh, Ginny lifts her pen - a fancy muggle style one from Harry - and resumes her notes. The inky little players flit about the page when Ginny taps it with her wand and she scribbles away until the door behind her slams open with a heart-stopping bang.

Ginny has her wand at the intruder’s throat in seconds, her wheely chair squeaking across the floor until it thuds against the wall. “What the fu- Harry?”

“Gin - I miss you. Even though we’re together and we share a bed and - ”

“Oh hell Harry,” Ginny groans, surging forward to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck.

Ginny of a few months ago might’ve been shocked, but she wants to hold him more than anything else. In fact three minutes ago Ginny probably would’ve thought her first reaction would be to drag Harry toward her until she hopped her little bum up on the desk and then - maybe she still does want that.

But first she just wants to smell him.

“Miss you too,” Ginny finally mumbles against his neck, “So much.”

“I know you’re busy - I managed to wrap up my must do’s for the next fourteen hours. And Robards is emotionally torn about my overtime and his own improved sleep schedule.”

“So?”

“So he told me to go home.”

Ginny snuggles closer. “And?”

Harry laughs against her hair. “And be back at ten tomorrow.”

“What a guy.”

“Stand up bloke,” Harry agrees dryly, “Are you…”

“I guess…I guess my sense about what is and is not absolutely time sensitive might have become a bit suspect lately.”

“Which means?” Harry asks, pressing his lips to her temple.

Ginny leans back and teases her fingers through Harry’s messy waves. “Which means you and your friend down below can get reacquainted with me and my - ”

With a low groan, Harry hoists her onto the desk and runs his hands up her back, dragging her t-shirt up with them. Ginny follows his lead, picks up on it even, deepening the kiss until Harry pulls away.

“Why’d you pull away?”

Harry’s thumb brushes along her cheekbone, his eyes soft and searching like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her face. “I am very young, very foolish, and very in love with you.”

“Not that young gramps,” Ginny laughs, flicking at the handful of greys that have appeared at his temple.

“Twenty three, Gin! I can’t control my hair’s inability to count years.”

Sighing, Ginny tugs him closer by tightening her legs around his hips. “I’m not complaining, not really. Except your new haircut and those little silvery bits - I nearly tackled you at Sunday dinner last week, family or no. It’s quite disturbing.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m so sexy,” Harry says with a chuckle, brushing her hair back from her face, the softness a direct contradiction to his brash words.

“On days where I can’t do anything about it, me too.”

“So does that mean - ”

A large feline - Ginny’s not a zoologist - patronus leaps into view and immediately pulls Harry’s gaze. His clear disappointment and slumped shoulders are something of a comfort but Ginny can’t really summon up much emotion beyond a long growl. Disappointed rather than satisfied unfortunately.

“I could - ”

“You can’t Harry. Remember one of the things I like so much about you?”

“My arse?”

“Hmm that is a good bit,” Ginny says with a smile, “But the part - the thing I want you to remember no matter how annoyed and short tempered and grumbly I may ever get, I know your desire to protect and do the right thing is part of you.”

He laughs a little, self deprecating, and Ginny brushes her thumb along his jaw. “Not that I won’t say you get carried away at times. But I love you, even the bits that tend to give me unresolved desires.”

Harry leans in, gives her a long, lingering kiss. “Paused, not abandoned.”

Ginny pats his cheek, then nudges his face sideways with a playful tap. “I’ll save your place.”

And she does, at least in her mind, fingers reaching up to toy with the place on her neck Harry had abandoned with tangible devastation. It’s a small comfort as she powers through a few more tasks before bundling up and returning to their flat for a quiet night.

A quiet, lonesome night.

She’s exhausted, sore, and admittedly partaking in something of a pity party, so she’s in bed within 30 minutes of arriving home. Her limbs are weighty with sleep when she wakes to Harry slipping between the sheets as quietly and gently as he can manage. Which she has learned over their year or so of marriage is not much. Mostly, she finds better rest knowing he’s home and safe.

Somewhat clumsily, she reaches backward to encourage some kind of cuddle-style physical contact and Harry takes the hint, slinging one arm over her waist and pulling her close. His breath is warm across her neck when he murmurs some string of unintelligible words that includes her name.

The last vestiges of stress melt from her muscles with Harry’s light squeeze and quiet, “Love you,” until Ginny drifts back off to sleep.

Despite growing knowledge that it’s bad for their health in all senses of the idea, Ginny and Harry’s schedules don’t really let up. They gripe, eat rushed dinners in each other’s offices, melt into exhausted heaps in bed, and to Ron’s great annoyance share heated looks across the family table.

“It’s not even noon and there are children present,” Ron barks one Sunday as winter winds whistle around the Burrow.

Harry jolts from the sudden sound but his gaze is slow to leave hers. In fact he’s still half looking her way when he growls back, “You’re the only one who seems to have a problem with me looking at my wife.”

Charlie muffles his laughter behind a forkful of quiche and nudges Ginny’s side. “Frustrated Harry versus embattled Ron.”

“Hermione’s still not letting it go?”

“You didn’t see how long he paused when she unveiled the matching hats.”

Ginny snickers and looks up since she can practically feel Harry’s eyes on her. He’s smirking like he can guess some teasing of Ron is taking place, Harry has something of a sixth sense for it.

“How bad were they?”

Charlie shakes his head. “So many pom poms, Ginny. He looked like a Pygmy Puff.”

He laughs, but stops almost immediately and shoots a furtive glance toward Hermione.

“Worse than a Horntail when she’s mad, eh?” Ginny whispers, grabbing two drop biscuits and passing one to Charlie. “Eat up. If she heard that little observation it might be your last meal.”

Charlie’s reply is lost to Molly and George’s rising voices. “What do you mean coming over tomorrow?”

“Angie’s parents, it’s not a big deal.”

Angelina flicks him in the forehead. “I told you to tell her a week ago.”

“I know but - ”

“You said you did!”

Molly shoves away from the table, nearly tipping it in her rush. She would have without Bill’s quick grab. “Mum!”

Arthur gives a warning shake of his head in Bill’s direction and rises next to Molly. “Dear we can - ”

“I don’t even have gifts for them yet - they’ll think I don’t - George!”

“Yes Mummy?” George answers with just the right amount of sass to truly send Molly into a tailspin.

Luckily, Percy of all people jumps in and quells the rising fire. “Mum, why don’t you head to the shops, get prepped for tomorrow. It’s still early!”

​​”The parents, the grandparents, the cousins! Family deserves heartfelt knitting.”

“They can have a couple of hats,” Hermione mutters, narrowed eyes darting toward Ron.

“Bloody Buggering hell, I like the fu- ”

“Ron I may cross with your brother but I’m not deaf.”

Harry quietly excuses himself to the garden, and Ron watches him go longingly, “Mate I’ll come - ”

Harry waves him off while Hermione scoffs and disappears with a pop. Bill’s just picked up Victoire and started ushering Fleur to the fireplace so he nudges Ron in the back on his way past, “You have duties elsewhere. The Boy Who Robbed Gringotts can handle himself for a bit.”

Somehow, Angelina and Arthur manage to broker a peace between their spouses and Ginny really wants to avoid accidentally being invited to the impromptu nightmare of a shopping trip so she pats her mother on the shoulder and grabs an armful of dishes. “Go on Mum, I’ll handle things here.”

Soon, sooner than Ginny thought possible, the Burrow is quiet save the slow rush of water as she scrubs each dish by hand. It’s perhaps more manual labor than necessary, but Harry’s got her hooked on - Harry. She nearly drops the plate in her hand when she realizes she and Harry are alone together during the day for the first time in a hideously long period.

With quick, decisive strokes of her wand, Ginny soon has plates hovering over the soapy water and the scrub brush and towel working away. Leftovers are next, packed away and shuffled into the icebox like little soldiers marching off to their barracks.

Then she’s tucking her wand away and practically sprinting out to the yard to find Harry. Only to run directly into him and nearly knock them both unconscious with the force of the blow.

Instead Ginny’s left with a smarting tailbone and a half dazed husband currently looming overhead. She’s not completely displeased.

Laughter slowly rumbles from Harry’s chest. He buries his face in her hair and finally sighs. “Great minds?”

Ginny scratches lightly at his back. “Great minds end up in a heap on the floor?”

Harry runs his fingers down Ginny’s arms ‘til they reach her hands. He presses a short kiss to her lips. “Not much to complain about.”

As she plants her feet on the floor, rag rug soft beneath her toes, Harry drags her arms overhead and holds them in place with gentle firmness.

Her eyes dart to his and he waits, breathing suddenly strained, until she gives a brief nod. At her approval, Harry presses lightly, a quiet instruction to keep her hands in place while he begins exploring behind her ear, down her neck, along her collarbone.

For a moment, Ginny forgets herself and one hand ends up knit through Harry’s soft locks but she soon earns a low growl that sends her heart pounding. “Gin.”

Obedient, she raises her hand back overhead, though she does lift her hips lightly. She’s never good at complete patience.

Harry laughs against her lips while he palms her rear, bringing her hips flush with his. While he continues his exploration of the deep v of her t-shirt, Ginny grasps desperately overhead, one hand finally finding a chair leg she holds onto for dear life.

The rough wood reminds her of their precarious location, the numerous options at their disposal that would suit their needs much better. But it’s been too long and she’s so desperate and half believes if they try and relocate it’ll all fall apart.

Right now, she would like to do the falling apart herself.

Warmth pools low in her belly as Harry presses kisses over her shirt, like he’s too mad with need to even pause to pull it overhead. His thumbs have snuck under the hem, drawing distracting circles above her hipbones, teasing below the waistband of her shorts.

Ginny lifts her hips again, this time without Harry’s prompting and he groans, fingers finally fumbling at the snap on her shorts.

She’s halfway gone already and he hasn’t even discovered she’s wearing his favorite polka-dot knickers yet.

And then, like all good things, the gorgeous interlude is interrupted by her most obnoxious and untimely brother.

“Bloody hell!”

Ginny tips her head backward as much as she can manage, hairs catching on the wood floor. “Can we help you Ron?”

His shock is a bit overdone, in Ginny’s opinion. He’s seconds away from dropping the plate in his hands and they haven’t even unbuckled trousers yet. What a drama queen.

“In the kitchen Gin? In front of my biscuits?!” Ron gestures with the dish wildly enough that an oatmeal raisin drops to the floor.

Harry’s buried his face in the valley of her chest, though it seems it’s more to calm himself than titillate. “Ron?”

Ron truly appears near tossing up his brunch when he answers, “Yes?”

“Buzz off.”

Green pallor turns red as Ron slams the biscuits on the table. “That’ll teach me to try and help my ex best mate.

After one final deep breath, Harry sits up on his heels and levels an unimpressed glare Ron’s way. “Oh bugger off you’re just avoiding Hermione.”

“No biscuits for you! And you can finish the yard yourself.”

Harry nudges Ginny’s knee and she tilts her head back to a comfortable position. Once she’s recovered from the bit of vertigo, she finds Harry looking at her meaningfully. She can only hope her interpretation is correct.

Quickly enough, she learns she knows her husband’s looks quite well since he’s reaching for one of her hands to help her to her feet and gesturing to the kitchen and yard with his free arm. “Ron, since you’re here you can finish up right? Good.”

Ginny only has a half a moment to enjoy Ron’s fish-like gaping before she feels that tell-tale tug behind her navel and watches the kitchen disappear and landing with one pop in their quiet flat.

“Up you get, Potter,” Harry instructs, gesturing toward the bed with a tilt of his head.

She pauses long enough to take Harry in - hands on hips, the twisting cords of muscle in his forearms - and then follows instruction and hops up with a few squeaks of bedsprings. “Come and get me.”

[sepia-mahogany]

Platonic Hanahaki

The stories are just as widely known, of loving and losing, of yearning and forgetting, common in present time as they were years ago, of loving someone so deeply, without desire but not without passion, of kings and warriors, of lovers and brothers, of people not kin not lovers, growing in their lungs the flowers with thorns that cut deep, and drank away their blood without leaving any survivors.

Of course the tales are many, as tragic as they are, of how a man who killed his beloved for making him feel what he deemed unnecessary, his beloved who offered him a little white carnation, covered red in blood, but he held up his sword and cut through flesh, only to follow few days later in his grief.

Or of how a woman travelled across seas, in search of her soulmate, for the agony of her blood kept her comfort, for the heartbeat that echoed along with the garden she grew inside her lungs, because it meant her beloved was well, until one day, she coughed up a black rose and sank to her knees, disappearing from the world.

Of course, there were the ones who lived and got their happy ends, filled with their beloved ones caress or tears of guilt, and so was recorded, the flowers turning to dust and fading away, for their love had been acknowledged, so why the need for the reminder in their veins? Only marks appear on their skin, the place where they first made contact, sometimes the cheek, sometimes the hand, sometimes unseen under the clothes from when they rough-housed as kids.

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

Jiang Fengmian closed the book that he read, the pain blossoming sharp in his lungs, since that night when he sat, staring at the lotuses under the moonlight, his mind drifting to moments of the past, of longing of what once was, Lotus Pier once his home, felt more like a shackle around his wrists, yet this was his responsibility and he would bear the weight.

He thought to the day he waved away his dearest friend, the one by his side since they were young and grown into the men they were today, and as life went on, it was natural and it was expected, so Fengmian had not been forlorn but rather joyfully wished them well with sincerity and hoped they could visit some time in the future.

He was happy for Changze, for he had found his One, he’d seen the way he looked at her and she at him, he may have held affections for one of them but his love for their friendship outweighed it, and he would be content if they were healthy and successful in the path they chose, but even he knew with their own busy lives, it would be difficult to meet for a long time, so he bid them farewell and cherished their memories.

He didn’t feel as disappointed over his marriage as he originally did, it might have been arranged because of Meishan Yu Sect’s pressuring and his mother’s continuous desire for wanting one of theirs to be his bride, ‘to be the stern hand to his mellowness’ she had said, and what kind of a filial son would he be if he broke the betrothal off now?

And it was not as if he knew the Third Lady of Meishan Yu personally, seeing his brother-in arm’s relationship, his heart could not help but swell with hope, perhaps they could come to understand one another? He looked at his flowers, the ones he had grown with them, and the purple lotuses blooming near the entrance and thought, would she notice how the the colour reflected her eyes? Maybe a boat ride would help? Making future plans with anticipation, he felt a smile blooming on his face.

The day of the wedding came and went, except the chambers of the first night of the married couple remained empty, for his wife had requested for separate quarters in the privacy of their room, he agreed, perhaps she was nervous? Knowing each other better was better than consummation with a stranger, he nodded to himself, he should probably help make her comfortable as her husband.

He approached her room after he finished dressing and knocked lightly, and hesitantly called out “Third-lady?” The door opened, by one of the two girl’s Yu Ziyuan had brought over, and he saw his heart skip a beat when he saw her sitting clothed in Yunmeng Jiang’s purple, her violet eyes staring at him, her lips pursed in a line.

“What is it?” she asked, annoyance clear by her expression, he hesitated yet again, perhaps he had come too early? Yesterday had been a busy banquet. “Would you like to come to the pavilion with me today?” her eyes narrowed and he thought he saw a brief anger flash on her face, was she misunderstanding his intentions?? “The flowers are quite beautiful and the weather is quite good today, tea outside seems a calming time, doesn’t it?” he added, trying to make sure his tone did not seem too hurried, except she became even more angry.

Just when he expected her to refuse, she nodded curtly, “What time?” He let out a breath he did not even realise that he was holding, “Whatever seems comfortable.” He smiled at her gently, her eyes roamed over his face once again before she looked away, knowing full well she meant for him to leave, he got up.

He was happy throughout the day and it must have shown on his face, because his right-hand man told him to leave the Sect work to him for today and ‘just go Sect Leader!”, he had prepared the afternoon snacks himself, the place polished and ready for a wonderful evening, despite that, he still could not help but anxiously look over everything as he waited for her arrival, and she arrived, wearing the same robes as she was in the morning.

He got up to extend her seat. “Good Evening, Third-Lady” She had been looking around the garden since she had entered, he thought it out of appreciation, since these were the flowers they cultivated for years, until her eyes landed on him, which held the same anger as they did earlier in the morning. He served her the tea which she held tightly in her hands, and he found himself worrying, “Is something wrong?”

He expected her to say that the tea was not up to her taste at best, he expected her to criticise the garden’s decor at worse, what he had not expected were the words that left her mouth. “So this is the garden you cultivated with that woman? And you dared to bring me, your wife, here on the first day after our marriage?” She hissed, her words crisp and cutting, he felt confusion, followed by horrified upon realisation of the implications. 

“Third-Lady! What are you saying??”

“What am I saying?! Do you deny it? Do you take me for a fool? You married me once you were rejected by her, everyone knows that and you think that I will sit here calmly while being disrespected!? What do you take me for??” She yelled at him, slamming the cup down, he was truly shocked and frozen in his spot looking at her in bewilderment, had that really been what everyone was saying?

However, she took his shocked silence for agreement and got up to leave, “Third-Lady wait! It isn’t as you think, at all! Let me explain, we were friends and nothing else” He saw her pause, her back towards him so he hurried to explain.

“Changze brought her over once, to show her the garden we had cultivated since we were kids.” He paused to take a breath, “The only thing that was planted upon her suggestion were the purple lotuses-” He saw her head tilt as she looked the flowers, with a hopeful heart he thought, ‘maybe..?’ But before he could finish, Yu Ziyuan had turned around, a sneer upon her lips as she trampled upon the flowers next to her.

‘...to be the first thing you see, when you enter the garden.’

She left him staring at the trampled flowers, the tea cup tipped all over the table from when she smashed it in anger, and he sat there, processing what had happened, until a disciple knocked at the door, “Sect Leader?” The disciple peeked inside to catch his eye and stammered, “The meeting is about to begin, some urgent things came up and-” he smiled and replied “Of course, I’ll be on my way.” He sent the disciple off, grabbed a few napkins to clean up the table, and picked up the trampled flowers from the ground.

The days that followed went on without much words spoken between them, he did not dare to make the first move, because if she could misunderstand him in ways to such high extents, he was not sure what she would think if her sent over gifts, even if the thought of sending some crossed his mind, her scowling face and the violet of her eyes reminded him of that day, leading him to stay away.

He entered the garden, as months went by, the flowers that were once blooming wilted, just like everything in life had its end, some more sooner than the others, some caused by another, he thought as his eyes lingered on the place where once the purple lotus flowers stood. 

--------

“She’ll love them!” Cangse Sanren had said with that confident smile of hers, giving him thumbs up with both hands covered in dirt from where she planted her side of the lotuses with Changze, who nodded as well when he looked at him. “The ones on the right are from us, the ones to left were planted by her were own future-husband.” She grinned as he could feel flush creeping up his cheeks, he cleared his throat accompanied by Changze’s fond sigh. 

“She’ll probably melt, Sect Leader Jiang, down on his hands and knees in dirt, planting flowers in her-” Jiang Fengmian cut her off “Okay, enough! Enough!” he muttered, wiping his hands clean and looking at Changze, who only looked the other way as his wife cackled, the traitor. “Besides I plant flowers anyway, so does Changze, it’s not anything special like that.” He said defensively, Cangse Sanren had the audacity to roll her eyes, at Sect Leader, and his own home at that. “Sureee, Fengmian, sure.” 

---------

When he began to plant new fresh seeds, it took him much longer without Changze doing the other half, now, the thought of even considering Yu Ziyuan to plant the other half seemed laughable, he had been wrong in thinking they could come to understand one another, but now what was done was done, he could not exactly with separate her just within a few months of marriage, so he took a deep breath and decided upon a peace offering.

She was the Violet Spider, with a harsh temper and equally cutting words, what would be a gift that would be to her liking? He did not need to ponder over it for long, because to his surprise, he was approached by her during the evening, when he was alone. “I want to handle the training of the disciples.” She stated more than asked, Jiang Fengmian hesitated, that was a mistake, “What? Don’t think I’m good enough to train Yunmeng Jiangs disciples? Not good enough as your-” he cut her off,

 “No! That’s not what I was thinking-” the original instructor had been hand picked and carried the legacy of his forefathers, how could he alter what was passed down for generations- “Did you speak over me!? Trying to silence me, are you? With how you married me as a substitute for her? Is that not it?? Is that why you’re so hesitant?? Or perhaps is it that I’m a woman and you’re scared-” what?? “My Lady! That’s not it at all! I-”

“Then prove it, or else it's not believable at all, what other reason would you have then, to think that I am somehow inferior in your mind?” Her words dripped with poison, her eyes locking onto him, eyes of a venomous spider, he raised up his hand to massage his forehead. “Its not that simple! The instructing handlers have been passed down through generations, I cannot just change it on a whim.”

And she leaned back, smug as if she had won the argument, “Then perhaps it is not I who is lacking.” He felt cold all over, the anger he felt giving him no warmth, insulting his friends, insulting him, and now his sect. “Third-Lady, please be careful of what you speak, careless words aren’t able to be taken back easily.” Her smile remained, “Who says these are careless words? I mean every one of them, your Sect teachings haven’t produced any excelling disciple for the past years, while other Sect’s flourish, give me the reigns and I’ll show you how its done.”

Not only accepting all her words as intentional, but also implying she could do better than the Jiang Sect’s teachings over hundreds of years, he realised more and more what sort of a person he had been tied down to, would it not be better to just end the marriage? He instead looked over her smug expression and took a deep breath, “Fine, but give me time.” She nodded and left at that, a means to an end, giving her the benefit of the doubt, he did not know at the time, would turn out to be one of his worst mistakes.

It took him months but he managed to get some disciples under Yu Ziyuan, but his concerns were not simply over the teachings, if Yu Ziyuan could act the way she did with him, well with disciples? So he supervised the training lessons, but again to his surprise, other than some curt words, she did not verbally attack them the way she had attacked him, so it wasn’t her behaviour in general, just with him.

Of course he had called over one of the disciples randomly, although nervous and stuttering, the boy had answered that the training was going quite well, and with no reports or complaints in the following months, he could not do anything but let the matter drop, with this however, the matter of their distance remained as it was.

Soon he found that she relocated the aides he had, he had been angry of course, and immediately gone to her. “Where did you send Li Feng and the rest? And with what authority, you have no right-” she cut him off slamming her hands on top of the table. “With authority as your wife!? Or have you forgotten who your wife is?? So what? Can’t I move around servants here??” the anger churned his insides more so than anything else. 

“Those people aren’t servants, Li Feng is my right-hand man, please refer to them respectfully.” He tried to speak as calmly as possible, she glared at him “As the Madam of this house, I can do however I want.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, looked at her, her violet eyes, and exhaled. “Every action I do is met with anger, scorn or contempt,” He began, voice devoid of previous anger, “Then perhaps we should part ways.” He finished and her expression changed.

Out went the anger from her glare, instead for the first time she looked at him with shock instead of rage, and it was the first time he heard her stutter. “F-Fengmian, you can’t…” He looked at her, much relaxed with his mind made up, “Third-Lady, we clearly aren’t meant to be, we are completely different.” He turned his back and made to leave, with his hand on the door handle, “How dare you do this to me?”

Still the same, he closed his eyes, “How dare you, when I work day and night to train your disciples, how dare you, when you agreed to marry me in the first place, if anything, it's all your fault these things happen!” She yelled and he turned to look at her in disbelief, she cried “Why did you marry me if you were going to abandon me later?? How dare you!” she grabbed the nearest object, a cup and threw it at him, but he caught it before it broke.

‘Your fault’ she said, how was it his fault with any of it?? With how she behaved- “Have I caused problems in your Sect?? Have I gone out of my way to harm your people? All I did was rearrange the schedule setting but you seem to think I have committed treason?!”

She looked at him with anger “Did you not approach me first on that day? I was fine in my own quarters but you had to approach me.” He did but it was for purpose of getting to know each other better!

“Then all I asked was to train your disciples, only to get your suspicion” She huffed angrily “Do you think think me blind? That I would not if you called them to check if I was abusing them?? What do you take me for exactly!?” She saw him staring wide-eyed and nodded “You don’t get to ask for separation when I’m one who has suffered, after I’ve worked so hard, you could make some efforts too, if you weren’t so obsessed with that woman, and hate me unreasonably for not being her, then perhaps you would know!” She left, slamming the door behind her.

Her words repeated over and over in his head, ‘your fault’, true he had approached her first that day...but..and again the thing with disciples, he felt guilt creeping up in his heart, he should have tried harder if she misunderstood him, he should have explained it better, in a few days he saw his aides once again under him, but instead of greeting him like they usually did, they looked at him as if a stranger. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, Li Feng answered “Of course, Sect Leader.” He nodded, not noticing anything odd, except over the next month, he realised they were treating him distantly, he couldn’t share with them what was on his mind, nor any of his opinions, being met with “As Sect Leader wishes.” Was Yu Ziyuan right? Was he the one lacking in communication? But he never had Changze misunderstand him...

In his state, he did not notice rumours spreading about how Jiang Fengmian did not like Yu Ziyuan because he was ‘still in love with another woman’.

Most of time was spent busy with his work, not knowing how to face her again, days became months, he would sometimes reminisce over his past times, feeling guilt weighing him down and pain in his chest, there no reason for him to feel anything out of the ordinary, until one day, when he was sitting in his room while looking down at his garden, the flowers did not bloom, he thought, and he felt a wave of coldness wash over him

Thinking how the once lively Lotus Pier turned into a place of coldness for him, his wife refused to talk to him, his aides and friends looked at him with judgement in their eyes, and then the pain increased unnaturally, until he couldn’t help but take in deep breaths helping to no avail, and then he coughed.

He coughed and coughed until he could feel his lungs bleed and he tasted metal on his tongue, until he could feel thorns scratching his throat as he choked with panic overtaking him, barely able to breath he vomited, instead of feeling his blanket get wet from what he thought was bile, he opened his eyes to be greeted by flowers, lots of carnations, stargazer lilies and purple hyacinths mixed together, covered in blood and vines.

He laughed, he had not laughed since the day he got married to Yu Ziyuan, he laughed and laughed bitterly, tears forming in his eyes, he felt so alone, he thought ‘how good would it be if I could just leave?’, at least, he thought between breaths, at least they are alright, it had been a long time since he had heard from his friends.

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

A year had passed just like that, Yu Ziyuan’s angry scornful comments continued any time he so much as tried to speak to her that he gave up trying, his aides while weren’t exactly the same with him anymore, he did catch them staring at him with concern sometimes, few reassurances had them going back to work.

Hearing knocking at the door, with Yu Ziyuan’s “It’s me”, exhaustion filled him, and his heart skipped a beat with fear, of course it wasn’t that he was afraid of her, but her reaction, her words if she knew, he glanced once at the hiding place of the book and got up to open the door, tired as he did not want to face more of her tirades or whatever she wanted from him.

She walked in, eyes roaming over his room and sat on the edge of his bed, “Fengmian” she began, and he took a deep breath, she wanted to ask for something when she spoke like that, “What is it Third-Lady?” he asked, a bit resigned.

“The people have been talking.” She said a bit curtly, that phrase always sent his thoughts back to when they first talked, and since whenever she uttered it, it was almost always followed by anger, he did not like it at all.

Though reluctant, he still asked weakly “About what, Third-Lady?” she looked away. “Heirs” With that one word, he felt a surge of that unpleasant coldness forming in the pit of his stomach. “‘Heirs?’” he repeated, he had known that one day he would have to consummate their relationship, and he had foolishly avoided it being brought up, with what reason could he deny this?

“Make up your mind, people have been talking, how Fengmian has not touched his wife since her arrival.” She said, turning to look at her, the violet of her eyes made him sick, his thoughts filled with the purple hyacinths covered in blood, he felt breath come short to his lungs. “Give me time, Third-Lady.” He whispered weakly, and winced when he realised it was the wrong thing to say as her expression twisted.

“Do you hear yourself? Always ‘give me time’ whenever I ask you for something, haven’t I given you enough time to come to yourself? Always dazed nowadays!” She snapped and he flinched, “Third-Lady no! I-” She interrupted “Don’t speak over me!” She got up, and walked closer to him, prompting him to take a step back. 

“You, always yearning for your beloved it it?” She sniffed and he felt his heart drop, she couldn’t possibly have known, he went alone and- “You...you had people following me??” He whispered, angered, afraid, he did not know what he was feeling, except that he wanted to be far far away from her. Were it the people he once called his aides? 

“Does it matter? Who knows when you’d meet up with that wh-” He slammed his hand on the door “Third-Lady, please leave.” He said taking in deep breaths to keep the pain at bay, “Just go” He added when a look of anger overcame her yet again “Fengmian you-” he didn’t let her speak. “You want heirs? Heirs right? Let's talk about that later, out” He pointed to the door, she bit her lips but ultimately left, knowing her words wouldn’t be needed any more having accomplished what she came for.

He closed the door and tried to move to the inside of the room, where he coughed, coughed until blood poured down his mouth, blood until the purple flowers fell from his mouth, it was getting worse than before, he huffed and washed clean the blood, washed cleaned the flowers, a drawer he opened, entirely filled with violet flowers, a reminder of the fool he had been. 

He sat on his knees as he stared them, despair heavy on his face,  “Ah Changze, what am I supposed to do?”

So, they shared the moment of what should have been their wedding night, he left as soon as morning came, with the urge to vomit yet again at his throat, and it was not entirely due to the diseases spike, he would hope that was the one and only moment time they would ever have to take part in matrimonial duties, for her cutting words didn’t ever seem to hold back, no matter the occasion.

Months passed and confirmation came that she was with child, it was a relief to him, less about acquiring an heir and more not having to deal with the woman, except in her state she was more unbearable than ever but he couldn’t say anything, for he would be met with her rant of “You did this to me!” From her, he fulfilled her every wish, but he couldn’t think to be with her in the same room for more than a few minutes, without bile rising to his throat.

But when the day of the birth came, he sat as she held his arm, as she screamed in pain, that was the least he could do as her husband, suppressing all moments of disgust he felt upon her touch, and after hours and hours, he got to hold his daughter while her mother took rest, and his heart filled with love, his little one, she was his dearest child, Jiang Yanli.

For a few days, things seemed better, Yu Ziyuan seemed to hold back on her anger, he assumed she had been happy as well, how wrong he had been, when she came to him and spoke about betrothal with her Sworn Sister, Madam Jin of Jin Sect, and he felt disbelief coursing his veins and it was the first time he truly raised his voice at her. “No.” he said firmly, no matter how much she yelled or screamed, he refused.

He had said, “Her marriage will done with her own choice, no matter what.” he thought later that had been a mistake, because Yu Ziyuan started to arrange play-dates between Yanli and the Jin heirs son, he still refused, until Jiang Yanli herself came to him, claiming she loved the boy she saw but barely knew anything of, if she did, she would have seen the disdain the boy held for prospect of marriage, the same disdain he saw in Yu Ziyuan.

The woman came to him again, “A-Li likes him, or are you going to deny what you had said?”  He wanted to argue, Yanli was barely old enough to understand but knowing Yu Ziyuan, he knew there was no way she would give up, so he agreed, hoping to break it off later in the future, when Yanli was old enough to understand, his daughter would know that there was no love lost between her and the boy.

Until her 3rd birthday, when it became more and more obvious that Yanli could not form a core, and Yu Ziyuan’s anger burned again, he tried to keep Yanli around him more than her, but when she came asking to talk to her daughter, as her mother, he could not refuse, his daughter usually looked down instead of looking at her.

One of those days, when Yu Ziyuan had come to ask, Jiang Yanli held tightly on his clothes and looked at him with her light coloured eyes, Ziyuan’s purple reminded him of poison, of those hyacinths in his lungs, and Yanli’s reminded him of those purple lotuses, that he had grown with love, he made an excuse, and the woman huffed away, “Fine, send her over later then.” He did not, “She was tired.” He said calmly, when Yu Ziyuan later yelled at him.

They had to share the bed once more when the question of heirs was brought up, and he had spent the rest of the day in his room, vomiting, sick to his stomach, both the blood and the food, for the first time since Yanli’s birth. As usual, he cleaned up without letting anyone know.

Nearing the evening, he heard a light knock at his door. “Father?” He heard, Yanli call out, he got up to open the door, and invited his little daughter in, “Father’s not well?” she questioned as she climbed up onto his lap, he patted her head lovingly. “Father is okay. A-Li does not have to worry, but he wonders what has she been doing? I saw her go to the kitchen earlier today.” He pretended to be puzzled.

“A-Li learnt how to make soup from Old Fa!” She said excitedly, holding her hands together. “But Mother says its a servant’s job, she doesn’t like it.” She wilted and he looked at her directly. “Father would love to eat a-li’s soup.” She looked at him hopefully, “I know it’d taste delicious!” She cheered up. 

“I made it for father today.” She ran out and came back with a bowl filled with what was..the soup. He drank it anyway and gave a strained smile, “Could use a little less salt” He choked out, and her smile was worth it.

Weeks passed peacefully, he was with Yanli in the kitchen, watching as Old Fa taught her how to knead, cooking was one of the few things that brought a smile to her face, seeing her so excited, he relaxed as well, until Yu Ziyuan joined them, he hadn’t expected her to, given her mindset of it being a servants job,  “A-Li you’re doing it wrong.” She said after watching her for a moment, in the same tone of voice as she used when training disciples.

“A-Xuan won’t like it if all you can do is cook, come with me to the training grounds.” She said, he cut her off “A-Li doesn’t have to do everything for him.” And Yu Ziyuan turned to him “If you want her to do a servant job then that's on you, she’s my daughter too, and as the daughter of Violet Spider, she should be able to fight! Not partaking in these weak acts-” He cut her off “Third Lady! Control your words!”

Before he could say more, soft sniffles cut him off, he looked at his daughter, her hands still inside the dough, tears she was trying to wipe on her shoulder, “Third-Lady is not allowed in the kitchen anymore.” He said and watched Old Fa escort her out, not before Yu Ziyuan shouted, “You cannot keep me from training my daughter!” She yelled as if he had ordered her banishment instead.

“No one is keeping you, if you have nothing good to say to a-li, it's better if you stay away from her, Third-Lady, take the day to cool off” He nodded towards the door, “Fine! If you want your daughter to be a weak-” he cut her off “Third-Lady! Leave.” She threw one last look at them and left fuming.

He knelt next to his daughter, pulled her into a hug. “A-Li is sorry Father!” She sobbed, and rubbed her back “A-Li doesn’t have to be sorry, a-li’s mother should be saying sorry.”

“Mother says father doesn’t like a-li” She said after calming down a bit “Because a-li looks like her mother-” he pulled back to look at her in the eye and enunciated his every word, “A-Li is not her mother, a-li is my beloved daughter, and I love everything a-li does” He told her comfortingly. 

“A-Li is not weak, a-li is peaceful, there is strength in nurturing and kindness.” Yanli finally seemed to calm down, hiccuping but not sobbing anymore, he wiped her tears away and smiled “Father loves a-li a lot.” he said as he kissed the top of her head.

---------

And then the day came when Yanli’s little sibling came into the world, accompanied by just as much of screaming, but less hours lost, Yanli cooed over her little brother, a tiny little thing in her mother’s arms, she reached out and lightly pressed his cheek, “So small.” Her father chuckled and said “A-Li was also this small when she was born.” Yu Ziyuan showed a rare smile as well, “His name will be Jiang Cheng.” She said.

Things went a bit smoothly after that, even though Ziyuan was the same as always Yanli his beloved daughter was eight years old, and his son, Jiang Cheng was four, his core formed well and he thought Yu Ziyuan had been happy, so he had not expected when she was walked into his room and started yelling,

 “Why are you ostracising your son!? Yanli’s going to be married into Jin Sect and yet you spend time coddling her! And you don’t spend the same amount of time with your son?”

He really hadn’t expected her random onslaught, nor where she was coming from, his son was working hard, and he had overlooked his training personally, teaching him the Jiang teachings along with Yu Ziyuan’s own training. “Oh is it because I’m his mother? Because you cannot handle seeing your own son when you want to see a son with her-” Where was she coming from, he felt horrified, “Third-Lady! What’re you saying!?”

The door swung open and their son, Jiang Cheng stood shocked, scared at being caught and tears in his eyes, before he ran away. He turned to her disgust forming heavy, before leaving her where she stood spluttering how she didn’t mean for him to hear her.

He found his son sobbing as Yanli comforted him in his room. “Mother doesn’t mean it.” Yanli told him as she rubbed his back, “She loves you.” He only sobbed louder, “But she’s right, Father likes you more because he hates me. He likes that boy more-” Yanli looked as if she didn’t know what to say, and Fengmian felt confused, who were they talking about?

“No, I absolutely, do not.” He said and his children froze and turned to him, “You do! Why do you make me work more than everyone else!?” His son got up, and lightly started punching him from where he reached his knees while he sobbed, Jiang Fengmian, placed a hand on his shoulder, suppressing the pain in his heart and lungs.

“Because A-Cheng is going to be the Sect Leader, A-Cheng needs to be strong.” He said evenly as his son shook his head. “That’s not what you said to Jie!” and ran to his bed, “A-Cheng listen-” His son turned to look at him with anger “If you did then you wouldn’t have that disease!”

Jiang Fengmian stared at him, too shocked to feel anything. How? Or Why? Did she tell them that?! How did she even- his thoughts cut off as he thought back, if she could send people tailing him, what couldn’t she do? 

He looked at his daughter who avoided his gaze, “A-Li?” she answered silently “Mother said Father would replace him for-” She frowned, trying to remember a name, “‘Wei Ying’, the son of your-” She sneaked a peak at him “Your ‘beloved’.” And looked away, as if feeling guilt.

“A-Li, no, I love you both, how can she-” Yanli nodded, “I know that you love us, but A-Cheng thinks Father doesn’t like him because of Mother…” she hesitated. “And that you regret it wasn’t someone else, instead.”

He regretted, he regretted letting his children near Yu Ziyuan’s poisonous words, but the only regret was Yu Ziyuan, not his love for his children, it was not something he would ever regret, he didn’t even know Wei Changze had a son. 

“A-Li” He began gently, knowing A-Cheng was listening when his shaking under the blanket stopped, “They were my friends, like you and-” He thought for a second, “-like you and A-Cheng, we grew up together but they were my friends, and you’re my children, I love you both.” He kissed the top of her head and her shoulders dropped in what could only be relief, and reached up to pat Jiang Cheng’s head under the blanket, and left them for a moment.

He knocked on Yu Ziyuan’s door, only to find it open and empty, he walked inside and opened the cabinets and drawers until he found what he was looking for, for her to know she must have- and there they were.

Pages over pages, written in a familiar writing, ranging from containing details of travels, requesting permission to visit, to mentions of ‘Wei Ying’s’ birth, he felt tears form in his own eyes, with his heart filled with overwhelming pain and indignation, he now understood her random bursts, they were each time a letter was received, over jealousy-

Before he could go out and confront her, the pain in his lungs became unbearable, he choked and coughed, no matter how much he tried to restrain it, he coughed until he collapsed to his knees, why now? His body heated up feeling thorns tear at this lungs and throat. 

He could barely breath as he vomited, vision fading from the corner of his eyes, he was confused until he caught a look of the flowers he coughed, pure black roses mixed with the hyacinths, the rose thorns dripping with blood, no sign of lilies and carnations, his heart and soul filled with agony and he cried, and then he knew nothing more.

When he woke up, he felt nothing, he knew he hated Yu Ziyuan, but he felt nothing but blank emptiness, when he stared at the woman standing at the door, his children on either side of his bed. “Oh good, that you’re awake.” She hissed as if he was an inconvenience and he found no rage, and he nodded calmly instead.

He knew his friends had passed but he did not, could not feel grief, he knew he loved his children, so he reached out with both his hands, patting them as they muttered apologies while sobbing. “It wasn’t your fault, father was a bit sad, and was already sick, but he’s well now.” He said gently, and once the children left, he looked at the woman who was his wife and said “I’ll bring A-Ying back.”

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

Authors note

Jfm knew he cared for Wei Ying, yet he felt nothing.

He knew he loved his children, he felt nothing,

He knew he hated his wife, yet he felt, nothing.

---------

So yesterday i was looking through @angstymdzsthoughts  and came across platonic hanahaki and thought hey sounds angsty, and thought ‘hey what if jfm had platonic hanahaki for cangse sanren and wei changze?’ i deliberately tried to keep it ambiguous which one he was in love with XD Madam Yu kept assuming and he didn’t give a fuk about correcting her, also like i couldnt bring myself to even write them spending the night together idk y, took a lot of effort lol. Started out with thinking hanaki, got more of JFM’s descent to feeling nothing oof.

Also like it turned out more focus on the fact that even before wwx was brought to lp, there would still be yzy biching and making everyone miserable so-

[bugsyfics]

Could’ve Just Asked

Yami Sukehiro x Reader

Fandom: BC

Summary: After touching one of Captain Yami’s most prized possessions, Y/N finds herself on thin ice.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, spanking, masturbation, very slight praise and domination

Word Count: 1.3k

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

Captain Yami was out with the other members of the Black Bulls upon request of the Wizard King. Today you weren’t needed, because you visited him a couple days prior about the new mission. While you could’ve gone anyway, this was a good time to catch up on some well needed cleaning. You dusted, moved someone’s random pair of shorts, and threw away an oddly immense amount of trash. You got to the split corridor and took a little detour down the men’s living quarters. You’ve only been down there a couple times, but curiosity was getting the best of you.

There was no denying that you enjoyed looking at your captain and often wondered how he would feel on top of you, but because of the dynamic you two shared it made it almost impossible to express how you felt. Since you’d joined the Black Bulls, it’s always felt deeply inappropriate how hot this man made you with only a couple words or a pat on the back. It was even worse when you two would train alone, away from the others. Maybe your little flirts weren’t enough for him to catch on or possibly he was simply ignoring your advances.

As you passed Yami’s bedroom it took everything in you not to look at his door. You walked a little further, but quickly turned on your heel to walk back towards his room.

“Hm, I don’t know if I… no…” You contemplated intruding while your hand remained on the doorknob.

“Fine.” You opened the door.

It was… normal? A small pile of clothes and an unmade bed but nothing out of the ordinary. You did notice though, a shimmer from across the room. After quickly shutting the door, you made your way to the glimmering object to find a brand new katana placed against his nightstand. You knew it was a bad idea, but you really wanted to see the beauty of this finely crafted sword. You pulled it out slightly admiring the polished finish — possibly too long to not notice Yami entering his room.

“Get out or I’ll kill you!”

“Ahh! I’m so sorry! I’ll leave, j-just let me explain!” You sputtered hoping he wouldn’t kick your ass.

“I was cleaning a-and I wandered down the hallway a-and I saw your room. Then I-I saw—”

“Shut the hell up!”

“I’m sorry capitan,” you apologized.

Why did you have to keep doing stupid shit like this? No only did you invade his privacy but you also touched his brand new katana— Yami’s katana. Shit, you put your position in the squad in jeopardy and ruined the chances of him ever being interested in you. What would the other squad members thi—

“Hello? I asked you to hand it over,” Yami pointed to the sword with his eyebrow raised.

“You’re being creepy…” he continued and eyed you.

Yami grabbed your arm and released the katana from your grip. He laid the sword flat on his palms and pulled it out completely, inspecting it.

“Well, I guess you didn’t mess it up too bad. You know, acting like a dumbass and all,” Yami spoke and shook his head.

You opened your mouth to protest but remained quiet instead.

“You came in here just to look at a sword? Gonna steal it or somethin’?”

“No, I was just snooping. It was rude of me,” you muttered.

“Stop apologizing. Don’t care, just don’t do it again,” Yami grumbled.

He closed the katana back down into its scabbard and sighed.

“Ok, get out,” he spoke suddenly and walked you to the door.

After you walked out, Yami leaned against the doorframe.

“You know Y/N, you don’t have to sneak around. If you wanted to visit and talk you could’ve just asked,” Yami laughed and closed the door.

Did he say visit? What did that even mean? Well, you were just glad you made it out alive. Your palms were sweaty and after that encounter you needed a cold shower.

The next day...

After breakfast, all the squad members sat in the main room chatting. You assumed no one knew about what happened the day before, but you sat by yourself just in case. Well, not entirely by yourself since Zora was across from you snoozing, as always.

“Be quiet and sit down,” Yami clapped his hands together, “I’m sending a couple of you on a mission.”

“Julius needs to speak to Asta, Finral, and Charmy again. So, go do that or whatever,” Yami announced nonchalantly and sat back down to read the paper.

Everyone else traveled to the Noble Realm to shop or went outside to train. You quietly sat and drank your coffee hoping no one would notice that you were missing.

You heard a gruff voice from above you, “Y/N, come here.”

Yami?! What does he want? He stood over you and motioned you to follow.

“Yes, captain.”

You both ended up outside his room.

“What are we—”

“We have free-time. I thought you wanted to talk,” Yami shrugged.

“Sur— I mean, yeah we can,” you smiled awkwardly.

Yami sat down on his bed and stared at you, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. You stood against his desk, in the corner of the room, assuming it wouldn’t be appropriate to sit on his bed with him. The uncomfortable silence made you flustered and you slightly pinched your leg to right yourself.

“Are we gonna stare at each other all day?” Yami surmised.

“I don’t really have anything to talk about necessarily,” you spoke.

“Mhm, ok well we can leave—”

“Wait! I-I mean um… hold on. Tell me about your katana, please captain,” you blurted.

“You wanna hear about my katana? Nothing else you want to talk about?” Yami asked.

“Yeah… Well, no. I’m just interested in learning about it. It looks like it’s made with good craftsmanship.”

Yami stood suddenly, pulling his katana from the holster on his waist and motioned you over. He sat back down on his bed and waited for you to join. You awkwardly sat beside him and you couldn’t help your cheeks from turning bright red from the closeness.

“Put your hands out,” Yami instructed, “The blade is sharp so don’t do anything stupid.”

The sword laid balanced across both of your palms.

“The handle is called tsuka,” Yami began and stroked the top, “...and the blade is called sori.”

He took two fingers and slowly ran them across the surface of the blade.

“The only authentic ones are from back home, but since I haven’t gone back, I get them imported.”

“Wow, it’s a really beautiful sword,” you admired softly.

“Mhm, it’s quite… personal to me,” Yami cleared his throat and grabbed the katana from your hands.

He glanced over at your face with an unreadable expression and shifted away.

“I think that’s enough talking for today. I’m gonna take a nap,” Yami rushed and stood from the bed.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” You asked quietly and walked to the door.

Yami pulled his cigarette from his lips and crushed the butt into the cigarette tray on top of his nightstand.

“Eh, I don’t know… I think today was enough,” he responded curtly.

“Did I do something wrong?” you began to pry.

Yami stood silent staring at you for a moment. He finally made his way over, and towered over your small frame.

“I hate it when you act innocent,” Yami growled lowly and tilted your chin upwards slowly, “You know exactly what you’re doing, princess.”

“Captain… What are you talking about?” you questioned, puzzled by his sudden change in mood.

“I haven’t caught on for a while, but I’m not stupid. You like when I tower over you like this… or when I command you to do what I want,” Yami taunted and rested his hands above your head.

“You snooped in my room because you couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Yami chuckled and stared deeper into your nervous gaze.

“C-captain I-I,” you stuttered and clenched your thighs together to suppress the tingling from your core.

“There’s no need to confess, Y/N. I already know how you feel,” Yami said. “I guess I was a little oblivious. I thought you had a childish crush, but it seems like there’s something more.”

Yami scratched the back of his head and his eyes traveled down your body to your clenched thighs. With one hand still above you, the other traced down your side and gripped your thigh gently. He began to rub small circles on your skin with his thumb.

You bit your lip and glanced up at Yami’s dark gaze from under your lashes.

“D’ya like that princess?” he teased as his hand traveled further underneath your skirt.

“Yes captain,” you sighed.

You were soaking through your panties and you were nervous about what Yami would think. His low voice and his digits pressed on you made your skin burn.

Yami’s eyes grew a little when he reached your panties. He took his middle finger and ran it over your heat feeling how your wetness pooled under you.

“You want me to touch you some more?” Yami spoke into your neck.

You nodded eagerly, opening your legs wider for his massive hand.

“Mm…”

Yami rubbed faster over your clothed pussy. He pulled his hand away and leaned down to your ear.

“Get on the bed. Head down and ass up, now.” Yami ordered you.

He could tell you liked being dominated, but you also like being praised and he stepped into that role nicely.

You scurried over to his bed and did what you were told. A little part of you wanted to push him further.

You reached under your skirt and played with yourself, bucking into your hand. You pushed your ass out and turned your head to watch him.

Yami cooly walked to his nightstand, grabbed a cigarette and lit it while he watched you. That was definitely not the reaction you expected.

Smoke billowed out from his lips as he spoke, “That’s a nice show you’re putting on. Maybe you can get yourself off instead.”

“Wha- no, I was just—”

“Touch yourself,” Yami demanded.

He watched as you hesitated and moved your hand away. Yami roughly pulled your hand back under you, placing it on your core.

“Do it.”

You had no choice other than to play with yourself in front of him, but it was technically your fault. You gently rubbed over the fabric and grazed across your aching pussy. The constant friction of the panties across your clit made it difficult to stay steady on your knees. You moaned incoherently into the bedspread and began slowing your movements.

Yami grabbed a handful of your ass and smacked it harshly, “Faster. Keep going like a good girl.”

“Yam-Yami please. I c-can’t…” you panted.

“Do I have to tell you again, princess?” Yami threatened while pinching your ass.

“No, sir… but I just need you,” you pleaded and grinded into the air.

With a grunt, Yami pulled you to the edge of the bed with your ass propped. He tore your panties off of you and spread your pussy open to rub harsh circles on your swollen bud, making your toes curl.

“Mm fuck. That feels so, so good, captain!”

“Something tells me this is your favorite place to be touched,” Yami chuckled, quickening his movements.

You bucked harder, fucking yourself down onto Yami’s hand.

“Shit, it looks like your gonna come, princess.”

He pulled you back into his chest and continued his movements while you came undone. You felt yourself on the brink of tears as you slumped down into Yami’s arms. You heard him breathing hard behind you as his erection poked into your lower back.

“Damn princess, that was only the first round! Hah! I knew you weren’t that innocent,” Yami teased and wrapped his arms around your waist.

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

A/N: I hoped you like this Yami smut! Thanks for reading 💕

— bugs

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 2: No Vacancy

Title: Backroad Romance

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,119

Tags: First Kiss, Dean Winchester and Castiel are Alone in the Dark, Mild Angst With a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Making out in the Impala

On AO3 Here

“You’re shittin’ me, Sammy.” Dean groans and smacks the steering wheel with his palm. “There’s no room in the whole place?”

Sam’s voice floats into the Impala, high and tinny over the burner phone’s speakers. “No vacancy, Dean, I’m sorry, I checked with them three times--”

“--Nah, nah, it’s cool, we believe you,” Dean interrupts, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear so he can rub his face while steering around a bend. Cas reaches over and deftly slips the phone away, fingers pinched like he’s removing a block from a Jenga tower.

“Did you and Eileen find accommodations?” Cas asks, holding the phone out in front of him so Dean can listen in.

There’s a short pause, then: “Yeah… yeah, we did, but guys, the room is really small, like, a closet, I swear, and there’s only one bed, and--”

This time it’s Cas who interrupts. “--and you wish to engage in private romantic activities. Dean and I completely understand.”

They’re on a straight stretch of highway, but Dean still manages to swerve clumsily into the shoulder. He hastily course-corrects and bites down the urge to snap at Cas for-- for what? For talking like that? For using his deep, rough voice to say any words even vaguely related to--

No. It’s not Cas’ fault that everything he does steadily turns Dean into more and more of a creep. Dean shakes his head firmly and tunes back in to the conversation just in time to catch Sam awkwardly stumbling over his reply. Dean leans over, cutting him off with a whistle into the phone.

“We’ll be fine, little brother. Be a gentleman. Don’t hog the sheets. Girl like Eileen doesn’t come around every day.”

He can feel the bitchface radiating through the speaker and motions at Cas to hang up. Cas frowns and gravely says “Dean would like to end the conversation. Goodbye, Sam,” before flipping the phone shut. He drops it into the cupholder.

Dean makes a show of focusing on the road to avoid looking at Cas. He knows Cas is staring at him; it’s just something the guy does, sitting in the passenger seat and gazing at Dean as if the whole world isn’t flashing by outside.

Dean’s long stopped commenting on it. Let the dude stare.

He clears his throat. “We’ll probably have to find a logging road or something. Pull in and hole up for the night.”

“All right,” Cas replies. He opens the glovebox and pulls out the local map they picked up this afternoon when they rolled into Matlock, Washington, to investigate a haunted post office. It was a gray, dinky, bleak town and the poor ghost lurking around the mailroom seemed more melancholy than anything. She allowed them to dispatch her into the afterlife with very little struggle; that is, after some creative sweet-talking by Sam.

Eileen had teased Sam mercilessly about it before Dean had even gotten a chance. That’s how Dean knows she’s The One.

There was, of course, no motel in town. Sam and Eileen hit the road before Dean and Cas, because Dean insisted on getting a burger for dinner at the tiny diner on Main Street (a mistake). Now he’s staring down the barrel of a night alone with Cas, in cramped quarters, on a dark backroad. If they hadn’t already driven all day to get to Matlock, Dean would push on until they found a motel with vacancies, but he’s exhausted and Cas is just human enough these days to actually be tired too.

“There’s an access road nearby,” Cas says, tracing the map with his index finger. “In a quarter mile. Left.”

Dean follows his directions and sure enough, there’s a bumpy logging road branching off from the highway, stretching deep into the pitch-black trees. Dean pulls in about five hundred feet before turning off the lights and the ignition.

It’s silent. The darkness is all-encompassing, pressing in on Dean, so heavy it’s like he can feel it on his eyelids when he blinks. He takes a slightly shaky breath. Cas is utterly still, as usual, not a single rustle or exhale indicating his presence in the gloom, but Dean feels him there as intensely as he’d feel a roaring bonfire. His heart thuds in his ears.

Why is he freaking out? He’s slept in the car with Sam a million times. But even as he thinks that, he knows, he knows, that this is different. His brain starts whirling through logistics -- who’s gonna take the back seat? Is Cas even gonna sleep the whole night? Or will he wake up and just sit there, staring at Dean for hours, inches away?

Dean needs to shut off his brain. He taps the seat and says “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” comes the immediate response, measured and reassuring. “Would you like to talk?”

Relaxing against the seat and slinging an arm over the backrest, Dean peers over to the passenger side. “Sure.”

The moon’s out tonight, far above the trees, and the grayscale of nighttime slowly bleeds into view as Dean’s eyes adjust. He can just make out the sharp angle of Cas’ nose, the slope of his chest and the outline of his hands folded in his lap. He’s always so upright, so proper. Dean wonders what it would feel like to undo him.

“Are Sam and Eileen having sex?”

Dean chokes on air. Sputtering, he braces himself on the seat and coughs until his eyes stop watering. “What?” he wheezes. “Why-- Dude, why would you ask that?”

He sees Cas turn his head to regard him. Even in the dark, Dean can imagine the piercing gaze.

“It was unclear to me what you meant by ‘be a gentleman.’” Cas lifts his hands to shape the finger quotes. “I assumed the two of them would take advantage of their privacy to engage in physical intimacy. Was your comment meant to discourage Sam from having sex?”

Dean throws up his hands desperately. “Okay-- okay, first of all, quit talking about my brother doing it. And second, no, I wasn’t ‘discouraging’ him, just reminding him to treat Eileen like a lady. You know, romance her a little.”

The darkness is a godsend as Dean’s cheeks flush hotter with every word. He’s surprised they’re not glowing. He taps the seat in a random pattern as Cas sits quietly, seemingly digesting the information.

When he responds, it’s slow and thoughtful. “In the pornography I’ve watched, the participants always begin undressing one another rather quickly. And in my own experiences, there has been very little that I would label ‘romantic.’ What is classified as ‘romance,’ Dean?”

Well, shit. The last of Dean’s composure evaporates, sizzles away like a drop of water meeting his burning face. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

Cas leans forward, his knee brushing Dean’s. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks, voice laden with concern.

Dean’s throat is tight, his fingers sweaty against his forehead. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to at least open his eyes against the shadow of his palms. “Uh-- no. No, Cas. You, uh-- you should be able to ask that kinda stuff. Human stuff. I get that it’s, uh-- it’s important to know. For, y’know. So you can--”

There’s a hand on his knee. A warm, strong hand. Long fingers. Weighty. Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. He slowly, very slowly, lowers his hands to peek at Cas.

“How do you like to be romanced, Dean?”

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing in Dean’s brain. It’s a chamber of silence. A void. He stares at the outline of Cas’ wild hair, mouth slightly open.

“...Dean?” The hand on his knee shifts slightly and Dean’s blank brain runs zero interference as his own hand darts out and stills the one threatening to leave his leg. As soon as his skin makes contact with Cas’, though, everything zings back online in a rushing roar.

Play it off, Winchester. Crack a joke. C’mon. “Hah, funny, buddy, you really got me there--”

“--Kissing’s nice.”

He snaps his mouth shut too late. The words float away, unrecoverable.

Cas tilts his head. Then, slowly, very slowly, as if he’s afraid of spooking Dean, he turns his hand around under Dean’s so that they’re palm to palm. An invitation.

With a pounding heart, Dean accepts it. He laces their fingers together. His palm feels even sweatier when it’s rubbing up against Cas’ dry, smooth skin.

Sexy, Dean. Way to go.

Somehow, even though it was Cas asking the questions, he’s the one leading now, shifting closer, laying his left arm along the backrest behind Dean’s shoulders. Their faces are so close that they’re sharing air, just two shadows suspended in a frozen moment.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs gently, his breath washing over Dean’s lips. It smells like rain-refreshed air, like a promise of sunshine, alleviating the weight of the darkness. Dean tentatively chases it with his tongue, wetting his lips and leaving them parted.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. Because fuck, he wants this. He’s wanted this for so long.

And Cas wants it, too.

Dean always imagined that his first kiss with Cas would be an inferno, fireworks, showering sparks, all those cliches. That it would yank him from his body and send him floating through the ether.

It’s not like any of that. It’s better. It’s real.

Cas’ lips are just lips -- a little more chapped than Dean’s used to, perhaps, but they meet his in a familiar brush, followed by the typical tentative press, leading into a hesitant swipe of the tongue.

He’s kissing Cas. Cas, who he’s built up in his head for so long as this untouchable, impossible ideal, who stormed Hell to drag him out, who smote demons with his bare hands, who is so inconceivably old that Dean should be just a speck of sand under his eternal gaze.

Instead, that same Cas is busy dragging his fingers down the side of Dean’s neck. A crest of goosebumps follow, shivers trailing down Dean’s torso, and he gasps a quivery breath against Cas’ lips. He’s not used to being led. Normally he’s the one in charge, giving as good as he gets, focused on hitting the highlights, satisfying his partner. There’s a whole formula.

He’s never trembled like this before.

“Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth, reverent, his voice somehow gravelly even as a breath. He suddenly pulls his hand free from Dean’s and grips his bicep, dropping his other arm from the backrest to wrap around Dean’s waist. Without preamble, he twists, tugging Dean across his lap. Dean yelps and hurriedly adjusts his legs, ending up with his knees on the seat, straddling Cas’ thighs. His fingers and toes are zinging in excitement.

Goddamn. Who knew being manhandled would do it for him?

The crown of his head presses against the roof of the car and he slouches forward until their foreheads are touching. He pushes his hands into Cas’ hair.

Cas surges forward again, nudging Dean’s head to the side and pressing his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean groans, low and shaky, as Cas parts his lips and sucks a trail up to Dean’s earlobe, his tongue soothing in the wake of his mouth, dragging over every mark that he coaxes to the surface. Dean knows his neck will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he finds he can’t bring himself to care, not when Cas’ teeth are busy grazing the shell of his ear.

“Jeez, Cas,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He's hard already, hips twitching a little, but he keeps his hands firmly in Cas’ hair, tugging the soft, thick strands, guiding Cas’ mouth back down to his neck. His pulse hammers under each press of chapped lips.

He pulls back and captures Cas’ mouth again, sliding his tongue into that wet heat. They trade open-mouthed kisses, a bit sloppy, while Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s back under his flannel. Dean’s absolutely flying, his pounding heart easily winning the battle against the tiny voice in his head dredging up reasons to stop, reasons to run.

He wants to stay .

Their kisses have escalated to a panting, frenzied give-and-take, and Dean’s tired of hunching over. He drops his hands onto Cas’ shoulders and starts leaning back over to the driver’s seat, trying to pull Cas on top of him. Cas whines when their lips separate, but he catches on quickly. A little too quickly. He grips Dean’s waist and shifts him along the bench seat with such force that Dean’s arm goes flying and his elbow smacks right into the middle of the steering wheel.

The horn blares, rending the night.

Both Dean and Cas jerk upright, instantly on high alert. Reality takes a moment to catch up with them.

Cas recovers first. “That startled me,” he says, voice wrecked.

Dean lets out a long breath. He’s still got one leg up on the seat, the other one cramped awkwardly next to the steering wheel. He drags a hand across his face and lets out a breathy laugh. The next thing he knows, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and his eyes water.

He’s just so goddamn happy.

Cas watches him, head tilted in the shadows. Dean lets his laughter run its course, petering out with a sigh of mirth and hand slapped on Cas’ knee.

“What a night, huh?” he says.

Cas lifts a hand and strokes Dean’s cheek with his knuckles. Even after all that making out, this one gesture seems inordinately intimate. But Dean just smiles.

Cas swipes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone one more time before slowly, almost reluctantly, letting his hand fall. “You need to sleep.”

Dean nods and glances into the backseat. “You do too, don’t you? At least a bit? Maybe we can both fit back there.”

They get out of the car -- the cool night air rushes into Dean’s lungs and fizzes through his chest, bringing the events of the past half hour into blood-rich focus in his brain. He steels himself for the freakout, for the doubt and the deflection, but it doesn’t come. He feels right.

They crawl into the backseat, awkwardly shuffling and shifting, ending up with Cas sitting mostly upright (insisting that he’s fine) and Dean laid out on the seat with his head in Cas’ lap.

He drops off to sleep faster than he has a long time, Cas’ long fingers carding through his hair.

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

It’s the light that wakes him, pale gray seeping under his lashes and rousing him from a blissfully dreamless sleep. He lifts his head and immediately winces -- his neck is stiff as a board and his back aches all the way down to his tailbone. He’s really getting too old to be sleeping in the car.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean twists around and peers blearily up at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with one of his rare enigmatic smiles. Dean yawns and stretches as best he can, his back popping. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Cas.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas leans over and, before Dean can react, presses a warm, dry kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Sore body or not, this is the best morning of Dean’s life.

They extract themselves from the backseat and stumble into the damp early-morning air. Dean pops the collar of his flannel after a single glance into the side mirror. He’s got a lot of hickies.

They take a second to stretch (Dean admires the way Cas’ pecs shift under his dress shirt as he reaches for the sky) before sliding into the front seat. Dean backs them out of the logging road, the verdant green pines on either side nearly overwhelming his night-accustomed eyes.

Cas calls Sam as they roar down the highway again. It’s only 5 a.m., but Dean handed Cas the phone and told him to give Sam a wakeup call. The kid deserves it after a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

They pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Crest Motel just past 5:30. Dean ends up having to park on the street, though, because the lot’s at capacity, not a single spot unoccupied. He pats Baby in apology as he leaves her, and he and Cas make their way to the room number that a very irritated, cranky Sam snapped at them over the phone.

They’ve almost reached it when Dean suddenly stops dead. He grabs Cas’ arm. Cas shoots him a questioning glance.

“Look." Dean points up at the motel sign. There, huge red letters, blinking through the pale morning light, spell out a clear VACANCY.

“It’s hardly been six hours," Dean says. "No one would’ve checked out in the middle of the night.”

Suspicion rising rapidly, he strides to Sam’s door and knocks as obnoxiously as he can. As soon as the door creaks open, he reaches through and grabs Sam’s shirt, yanking him outside. Sam protests and slaps at Dean with one hand, shoving his bird’s nest hair out of his face with the other.

“What the hell, Dean!”

Dean just throws one arm up at the sign, staring at Sam with raised eyebrows. As soon as Sam sees what he’s pointing at, he shrinks into what Dean immediately recognizes as guilty little brother posture. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting between Dean and Sam, before holding out a placating hand. “I just-- I just thought, maybe you could use some time alone,” he explains hastily, backing up a bit into the room. “If we all ended up here, Dean, you’d insist that we share, you know you would.”

Dean knows Sam’s right (he’s careful with their fake money, so sue him), but he keeps glaring regardless.

“I just wanted some time with Eileen,” Sam mumbles, deflating a bit. “And I thought, y’know, with how you and Cas have been acting lately, that you’d-- uh, that you’d want some time together, too.”

Dean sputters. “Acting? We-- what--”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says, deep voice cutting off Dean’s protests. “We had a very pleasant night.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he straightens up, a knowing grin stretching over his face. His eyes dart to Dean’s popped collar. “Oh yeah? Did you now?”

Dean shoves him into the room and slams the door shut. There. He turns to Cas, who looks amused.

“Give me at least a couple days before blabbing to my brother,” Dean says, but he finds himself smiling. Cas nods. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, just for a moment, squeezing before letting it fall again.

“Of course, Dean.”

[nanamikentoslutt]

Hey I really like your writing so far! I saw you were open to asks and I was wondering if you could write one about Jean for me 🥺 Id love one where we lose our virginity together if that’s okay for you! I know he is a secret sweetheart with a horse cock!

OMG! Thank you so much, this is my first ever ask!! I hope you like it :) also I agree there is no doubt Jean has a horsecock 🥵

Word count is 2.9k sorry I got carried away lol

THIS IS 18+

Warnings; Oral, vaginal sex, fluff, smut

Jean x Fem!reader

“Shh, we have to be quiet, y/n.”

Jean giggles, pulling you into the sleeping quarters, vacant from the rest of the scouts being occupied either on duty or in the mess hall. He grabs you inside and pulls you close to him, eagerly kissing your lit up face which had turned red from all the laughing you two had been doing on your way there. He cupped your face in both hands, moving your lips together through a smile he slowly started to pace backwards further into the room, you eagerly followed, your bodies both moving in perfect unison with one another as you were excited to finally have your alone time with Jean.

You had been dating for a few months now and only became official within the last week or so, your fellow comrades teasing you both for not recognising everyone knew you were made for each other even before you guys did. You and Jean took it slow the first few weeks, getting to know each other but soon enough your primal instincts kicked in and whenever you got a moment alone you’d be all over each other. Jean found himself sneaking you into empty equipment rooms just to hungrily devour you, running his hands up your body with no sense of true direction, just desperate to feel your body on his. You also felt the same sense of urgency to feel Jean’s touch, his tall, broad frame wrapping himself around you as you would desperately rub between his thigh, working yourself up as your clumsy and greedy kisses turned your heated equipment room meetings into olympic style make-out sessions. You were both so desperate for each other and the pace at which you kept it was not only because of that, but mainly because you two never had time for this sort of stuff. With training and expeditions, as well as living and sleeping in a room with 20 other people, you never had the time, or more importantly you never had the privacy. Jean had no issue kissing or cuddling you in front of the other scouts, occasionally slipping his hand under the covers to rub your clothed cunt, watching you try and keep composed while mid conversation with Sasha. Jean loved to tease you like that. Seeing your innocent face start to grow hot with excitement and a hint of embarrassment. Jean would rub just deep enough that you started to get wet beneath your clothes but not fast enough so you’d actually cum in front of your friends, he knew not to take it that far, however many times he’d thought about that exact scenario when alone, rubbing his cock in a toilet stall somewhere.

Through your cautious acts and sneaky behaviour, you and Jean had done almost everything together you possibly could, except the big one. You’d never taken it far enough to actually fuck. That was something you both knew you wanted done right. Being a virgin you personally never felt too much sentiment towards “virginity” however after meeting Jean and falling in love with that big idiot you knew that even if it was something you’d feel indifferent about, you wanted it to be special, because it was with him. And Jean felt the same, he would act cocky in front of everyone when showing you off but deep down he was in love with you and being a virgin himself he held sex as something sacred. Jean liked to joke with Connie about how long he could go and how all the girls from his village called him “horse” for a reason. Connie would usually be skeptical about Jean’s big talk but after he landed you he considered he might not be a liar after all. You were good and kind to all the scouts and that's what everyone loved about you, but Jean was first hooked by the way you looked, he couldn’t deny confessing this to you once you’d been together for a while. He’d admit it was the way your hair flew past your neck when you used the ODM gear, embarrassingly crashing a few times from getting lost in a trance. Jean was fawning over you from the moment you two met, he’d stay awake at night going over each and every one of the small conversations you’d had that day, deciphering whether or not he’d come off too bold or too rash. Wanting to impress you but not wanting to scare you away. 

Whatever it was that drew you to him was now the reason you two were pouncing on each other in the sleeping quarters. Your body follows Jeans as he slightly hunched over to accommodate your height and softly hold your face in his. The feeling of excitement exuding your body as your now wet lips crashed into each other, your heads occasionally moving from left to right to switch up the position of the kiss. Placing both hands on his chest you lightly push back to look up at him,

“I heard Captain Levi is holding a meeting in the mess hall…”

You say, a grin on your face that Jean is now trying to read, unsure of what you’re getting at. His half lidded eyes look down to your face, his lips slightly plump from where you’d both been so aggressive.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna go to that,” Jean pulls you back into him and starts moving his lips down your neck, his hands wrapped around your waist. You roll your eyes to yourself at your completely clueless boyfriend.

“Jean, I said the Captain is holding a meeting, meaning…”

The penny finally drops, Jean takes his wet mouth off your neck to look at you, his eyes widening.

“Meaning we have about thirty-five extra minutes?”

He smiles down at you, looking at his devious girlfriend with pure lust and motivation. Thinking about how you’d taken the time out to plan this particular meeting with Jean made his cock start to twitch, knowing how badly you wanted him only made him want you more, which was truly saying something.

“Yes, thirty-five or so minutes… Do you think that’s enough time for us to…”

Your voice trails off as Jean continues sucking on your neck, leaving little marks that make you whimper into him. His hefty palms running up and down the curves of your body. He caresses your ass in both hands and gives them a slight squeeze, keeping them there he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck moving down your chest, then navel and now on his knees looking up at you he worships your cunt over your uniform. Giving little pecks around your hips, lovingly rubbing his hands behind the back of your thighs.

“Come on baby, let’s take these off shall we?”

Getting flustered under Jean’s touch, you nod and let out a “mhmm” gesturing for him to remove the bottom half of your uniform.

He does so carefully, putting one hand out towards yours to help you step out of your trousers, moving the discarded piece of clothing to the side with your foot. Inspecting the wet patch that had now formed in your underwear, Jean grazed his lips over the fabric, causing you to whimper out his name. Not being able to wait any longer he used two fingers from either hand to pull the hem of your underwear all the way down, you cock your leg and allow him to place them to the side. Your now glistening pussy in eye view for Jean he soaks your body in. Putting both hands on either side of your thighs and grabbing the fat gingerly, eyes wide on your beautiful folds.

“Fuck…” He breathes over you, breath fanning your cunt. “Look at my pretty girl getting so wet for me.”

You bite your lower lip at the sensation of Jean calling you a pretty girl, always making you blush no matter how many times he’d tell you. You run your hands through his hair as he starts to slip his wet tongue between your slick, moving up and down in a slow motion a few times before coming to find your sensitive spot. Your grip on his hair starts to tighten as he circles your clit, compelling you to give out a low groan. Jean loved every inch of you but could spend hours just lapping up your cum his mouth, worshipping your delicate little cunt. Seeing how aroused just his tongue could make you made him pull his hand down his trousers to give some relief to his aching cock,grabbing the tip and slowly jerking himself underneath his clothes while the other hands keeps you in place for his now sped up tongue on your swollen bud. 

Your moans help direct him into your core as he quickens the pace on his soaked muscle. Knowing exactly what you want and what you sound like when you’re close, Jean can feel you’re almost there. Your hands desperately grabbing and pulling at his hair while his head bobs up and down on your cunt, he takes his hand away from his cock to slip two of his digits inside your wanting hole. 

“Fuck, Jean…” 

You let out, being unable to keep your balance on the ground but his heavy capable hand keeping you in place. He curls his fingers to hit you in just the right spot, your body hunching over slightly you can feel the warm knot inside you begin to expel, out of nowhere your orgasm comes and a warm sensation runs to your head as Jean continues to finger fuck you with his mouth over your clit. He recognises the familiar reaction of your walls clenching in on him and moves his tongue down to lap up your juices.

“Fuck baby, did that feel good?”

Your cheeks now flustered and your neck damp from the sweat you’d worked up, you breathlessly nod, “Mmm, it felt so good, so good..”

Jean stands up, licking your cum from his fingers and using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth. He holds your trembling body in his, moving his hands down below your ass he hoists you up onto him and carries you over to the bed. Gently resting you on your back he comes up to the side of you and gives you a deep kiss. Slowly unbuttoning your shirt as he rests his head lazily on his hand, looking down at you he purrs “We don’t usually have this much time…” His fingers now on the final button, opening your shirt and revealing your bra, he unclasps the front and you adjust to help him take it off, now completely naked. 

His gentle fingers run up and down your torso as he looms over you, causing goosebumps along his trail.

“Baby…” Jean whispers in your ear. “Do you want to?”

Without having to say, you already knew what he meant. You thought about it for a brief moment, thinking about how you’d never get another chance like this for a while and how even though this wasn’t the picture perfect place for losing your virginity, you hadn’t bought into those kinds of fantasies anyway. You knew what you wanted, it was what you’d wanted for weeks, you wanted Jean to be the first to fuck you.

“I’m ready, if you are?”

You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows to give yourself a better view of Jean’s face.

“Oh, I’ve been ready baby.”

Jean teases, grabbing onto your side to pull you in closer to him. You roll your eyes at him and laugh at his usual overconfident remark. Smiling into a kiss he pulls his shirt off and while still connected to your lips he moves his body off the bed to hastily remove his pants, not wanting to let go of your face on his he clumsily stumbled whilst getting the last leg of his trousers off his ankle.

Grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed he glances down at your perfect body, getting lost in the thought of how someone like him could ever end up with someone like you and how lucky he was. His thoughts were soon clouded by the image of your sloppy cunt, your soft, sweet face below him, ready for him to take you. 

Jean was taking in the sight of you beneath him, his thick, long member hard and leaking precum over the tip was almost painful. He lowered himself down onto your body and your legs naturally fell over his shoulders. Grabbing the tip of his cock you looked down and for the first time, you got nervous. You’d seen Jean’s cock before and knew exactly how big it was, but now you were nervous about it fitting inside you, you didn’t want to put him off by telling him just how scared you were so you flung your arms around him and landed your soft lips on his. Jean was rubbing the tip up and down your cunt, the sensation of your slick arousal was driving him insane, he wanted nothing more than to pin your legs back and have at you, but he was tensing hard enough to stop himself.

“You’re so wet for me baby, let’s just take it slow.”

You nod and slide your hands to cup his face. His tip finding its way to your entrance he slowly pushes himself inside and lets out a deep moan, clenching his eyes together.

Your walls instinctively tense up and you’re quick to grab Jean’s shoulders and use them for support. The stretching of your little cunt was getting slightly painful as your eyes started to water. From what feels like forever, his cock is still sliding inside, not even halfway yet, how fucking long was he?

“Fuck, Jean… fuck… just fuck me.”

You cry out as a desperate plea to get Jean to speed up. 

Opening his eyes he looks down to see your tensed face, he listens to your orders and picks up the speed. Jean felt bad for feeling so good, your tight pussy clamping down on his cock. His thrusts keeping an even pace, he comes down to suck and lick the groove of your neck, your voice cracks as you try and let out a “Yes, fuck, yes, yes…”

Seeing your face now turn from whimpering to bliss he smiles at his perfect little baby and straightens his back to put your legs on his chest. 

Thrusting in and out of your pussy, your cum coats jean’s thick and heavy cock, your moans sounding like sweet music to his ears. Holding your legs he passionately kisses the side of your calf. He pulls his hand down to your chin and holds it in place,

“Hey, look at me. I want you to look at me.”

Your head is foggy and vision slightly blurred but the sound of Jean’s loving voice brings you back to reality, you open your eyes and look directly at him, nothing but the sound of his skin on yours.

“Y/n, I love you.”

Your hand coming up to his on your chin, your eyes widen. You’d never heard him say that before and you just realised you’d never said it either. Which was crazy because without hesitation you knew how you felt when Jean said that,

“I love you too, Jean.”

Jean’s face softened, he looked down at you and smothered your face and neck with kisses that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. The sensation of Jean’s throbbing cock entering and exiting you as well as the attention he was now giving your upper half was driving you insane. The warm feeling returned to your stomach and a new sensation was flooding your insides, you felt like you were going to cum but you were sure you were going to piss yourself.

“Fuck, Jean, I think I’m gonna cum.”

Seeing how crazy his cock was driving you took him over the edge, seeing you all fucked out and in bliss over the fullness of him was just enough to bring him to climax.

“That’s it, fucking cum with me baby, cum on my cock.”

Getting faster you wrap your legs around his torso and let out a loud moan, your eyes wide and back arching you feel your wet cunt thump all over his cock, and just like that Jean wraps his arms around you and groans in your ear, breathy and low, his cock twitches inside of you. His cum empties in your tight hole as he catches his breath around you.

Now limp but still inside you, Jean places a small and delicate kiss on your forehead. Seeing your completely fucked out face he pulls you up and moves around the bed so your head is rested on his chest. 

You both breathe in the air around you and take in what had just happened. Jean pulls your chin up with his thumb so you’re looking up at him,

“I do love you y/n, you know?”

Your tired eyes beam up at him and your mouth grows into a smile.

“I love you too, Jean.”

You still had a few minutes left before you had to put your clothes back on and get back out to your friends. So with the little time you had you remained in each other’s arms, just happy to be close.

[jessiebanethedragon]

I Just Have to Get This Off My Chest

Din x Reader (SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15) 

is the title the title of the fic or is it the explanation as to way i wrote this instead of the three essay’s i have due soon. Who knows? certainly not me. 

You had not felt well for some time. Every moment that was not distracted by something else allowed you to feel the pooling sickness in your stomach. Grogu was gone. 

You had cried only in private, hidden away in the forest of Tython, covering your tears with your hands and sobbing into the ground. Din had never felt so powerless, when you finally re-emerged from the wooded area, he said nothing of the invasion of privacy he’d committed via the sensors on his helmet. Instead he walked up the ramp of Slave I with you to leave the cursed planet. Maybe, you were thankful for Mayfeld’s incessant chatter. It gave you something to focus on other than the missing warmth in your heart that was occupied by the little green creature. 

“You still with us?” he asked, turning around and waving a hand over your face. It snaps you back to the moment, but the guilty feeling does not fade completely.  

“Yeah,” You breathe. And finally relent, pulling off the helmet for fresh air. Din turns his head ever so slightly to catch the way your hair becomes messy. “Focus.” he reprimands Mayfeld, you almost feel bad for the guy, you're both so on edge he’s driving with ticking time bombs, and that’s without the Rhydonium.

“Where.” Din demands, roughly pressing his hands into the gaps between the baggy fitting armor. One of the pirates landed a solid blow to your side and the mandalorian wont let it go. 

“Mando i’m fine.” You tell him, huffing when his hands get rougher trying to feel underneath the crappy empire issues durasteel. 

“Where did you get hit.” He demands again, hands landing on your shoulders and shaking you slightly. Mayfeld is right, Din is desperate. 

“Din…” You whisper side glancing to make sure prying ears are out of reach. “I’m okay, I promise.” You wonder for a second if you should put your forehead against his, something he’d done after the fight with Moff Gideon, after you thought you’d never see him again. You remember seeing him limp down with IG-11, barely alive in the darkness. You remember running to him without thinking twice, the stupid, stupid, mandalorian who would rather die than break his creed. The stupid mandalorian you know now you cannot live without. 

“Hey, you two might want to stop acting like a couple of DUM - Pit Droids because we’ve got a problem.” Mayfeld says jogging over to you both. 

“What.” Din snaps the unfamiliar hemet turning to the man at hand. You hate how it looks on him, it is strange, unfamiliar, so un-him that you’re longing for him to get the Beskar back on. 

“I can’t go in there.” He says gesturing behind him. “That’s Valin Hess, I served under him, I'll be recognized.”  You lean over to look at the officer, and then behind you into the open area. 

“The officers' quarters are close enough.” You think aloud. “Stay here, I'll drop a detonator. Distract them.” 

“No way you can make the trip without being caught.” Mayfeld argues. 

“Hey, I used to do this professionally. Let me handle it.” You tell him with a small smile, this is herding Bantha’s compared to your old job. 

“Kriffing spy’s” Mayfeld murmurs. 

“As far as the empire is concerned I’m still an official agent.” You correct him, and you turn to leave but a gloved hand wraps around your wrist, his iron grapes holding you back. You look at the unfamiliar mask, and slowly, Din loosens his hold and watches you go.

The hallways are always the same, no matter how many planets, or ships you were stationed on, the empire always looked the same, your boots always made the same sounds, and an uncaught rebel-spy always knew where she was going. Order, Mayfelds voice echoes in your mind, yes there is order here. But Grogu isn’t. And that’s what matters to you right now, nothing else but the poor child that you’d had the fortune stumbling upon on a Navaro recon mission. You praise your own inability to let go of the past, for without it you never would’ve been investigating the imperial outpost, never would have met a cold mandalorian and never learnt that he, in fact, burned brighter than any kyber crystal in the galaxy. 

The detonator rolls smoothly from your hand as you turn away from the barracks. Jogging back to the control center a soft smile on your face as the hiss and pop sends the familiar signals blaring. When the coast is clear you don’t stop running until you slide into the mess hall, and stop dead in your tracks. 

Din is gone. 

Mayfeld is standing over at least half a dozen bodies, save for one man who’s back is to you.  Your blood freezes when you make the realization as the helmetless man turns towards you. He has brown hair, and you can see where the helmet has ruffled his curls. The slight scruff highlights his face, and draws you in towards his eyes. His wonderful brown eyes. 

It’s the mandalorian. It’s your Mandalorian. 

You know you should close your eyes, but they can’t move from his, so many nights on the razor crest were spent wondering about the colour of his eyes.

“You ever seen his face?” The memory of Mayfeld in a different place at a different time floods you. The way he teased about how close you and the mandalorian couldn’t be, because you didn’t know what he looked like. Pressing you against the bars of the prison they’d trapped him in, laughing when you couldn’t even give them a name. Taunting your own life in front of you at the end of a blaster. “She doesn’t know!” Xi’an sneered as you fought against Qin pinning you into the bars, using you as a tool in his revenge.  It is as if you are meeting him for the first time again, the man in shiny beskar who had whispered his name to you after the incident involving Mayfeld himself. The mandalorian who ran his fingers over the marks the bars had indented into your skin. “Din. my name is Din.”

“I’ll go look… actually i’ll secure the roof.” Mayfeld stumbles through his words watching as you tear up at seeing, really seeing him for the first time. You choke on your word when he crosses the room stopping when he hears the small noise. Noticing how you finally seem to come back into yourself and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Cyare.” He says, sounding so different without the helmet on. 

“Put it back on.” You rush out. “I didn’t see, we’ll kill Mayfeld, keep your creed.” you know it’s a lie, but you say the words in a jumble anyways. 

“We were running out of time, this was my choice. Open your eyes, it’ll be okay.” Din reassures you. So you take a deep breath and listen to him. 

“You’re so handsome.” You say without thinking, because he’s stunning up close, where you can see every detail in full. Standing mouth slightly agape as you memorize your mandalorian’s face. Your hand goes to touch him but you stop yourself, Din notices of course, and guides your hand to his face. You were right. He does burn brighter than any kyber crystal in the galaxy. Heated honey to your touch. 

“I’m in love with you.” You’re learning many things about the man under the mask today, maybe it’s time he learns something about you. So you thread your hands into his hair and pour your love into a kiss. Din gasps, shocked, and part of you wonders if this is his first. But he reciprocates by moving his arms around your middle to bring you as close as possible to him.

When you part because of shots outside, he puts the helmet back on. And you immediately wish you had had a chance to kiss him again before he did.

[thekatebridgerton]

I usually love the brigerton mom but her relationship with hyacinth rubbed me the wrong way. She immediacy thought hyacinth was at fault for relationship troubles and she treated her like she was a problem child when all her children were problematic. Hyacinth isn’t even top 3 of her children regarding problematic /scandalous actions

...she isn't? Are you sure? We're we reading the same book? If I had to put her somewhere in the ranking, it would be next to Benedict.

Let's do a quick review of scandals and how bad Violet would see it from her perspective:

Benedict, whom we have agreed is probably her favorite child because he does take the award for #mostproblematic, with the whole, seducing the bastard daughter of an earl while she was a maid in his own house, chasing Sophie after she said no etc. And Violet helped him marry her. but at least he faces some sort of consequences for his problematic actions and ends his book learning from the experience.

Daphne conned the ton, her friends and family into thinking she was with Simon, but was that really super scandalous? She did marry him. Her problematic actions more or less. involved giving Violet grandchildren, so I'm pretty sure she'd get a free pass.

Anthony's almost scandalous action was trying to duel Simon, in his book he kissed Kate twice before marriage, and put his face on her boob, but that happened in Aubrey Hall, away from London and the ton, so minimum scandal there, plus he married Kate within a week.

Colin, he just kissed Penelope once, acted like a angry lovesick idiot and later seduced Penelope in a carriage outside her house with her whole family inside and sure he married Lady Whistledown, which counts as pretty scandalous. But we're talking about Colin's actions not Penelope's

Eloise well, she ran away from home and spent a week unchaperoned in the house of a widowed bachelor who had two children. It does sound pretty bad, But it was a house in the country, not in London and it was close to the house of her very married brother. How scandalous can that be if it got out?. She probably did worry Violet a lot so let's say Eloise comes second to Benedict.

Francesca. Has done nothing scandalous ever. Her mother even acknowledges that Francesca is the best at covering her tracks. If what she did in Scotland with Michael was published in Lady Whistledown, not even her mother would believe it. But for the record an unmarried widow having a wild rendezvous in Scotland with a rake does sound like a juicy scandal right up Pen's alley

We can leave Gregory out because of the whole 'roping his entire family into crashing a wedding' and facing no consequences for it, is really something else. Maybe by the time Violet got to Gregory and Hyacinth she'd just seen so much she was okay with turning a blind eye to all their crazy.

But let's get back to Hyacinth, shall we review the ammount of times Hyacinth broke into the quarters of an unmarried gentleman, in London, during the social season? She also bribed her maid into leaving her alone with said gentleman for unknown purposes, and let's not forget the whole trapsizing around London at different hours of the day without an appropriate chaperone just for funsies. During the social s.e.a.s.o.n Because if that got out it would definitely be a big scandal. Also Hyacinth is right up there with Benedict in the scandal of not respecting their love interest's privacy. But unlike Benedict, Hyacinth never faces consequences. She gets to stay exactly as comfortable as she was before she got married

Yes Hyacinth's family treats her like a child and yes her mother assumes everything is her fault, because to be fair when her siblings have marital troubles it's usually their fault. But Hyacinth does act like the world owes her something and disregards people's feelings quite often, if I were her parent I'd also be concerned about her.

Sometimes I wonder if it was really Gareth who didn't want to confide his feelings about his father to Hyacinth or if it was that she'd never given him any indication that she was going to be kind and understanding about the issue.

In that part I think maybe they were both at fault in their relationship problems.

He wasn't completely honest, yes, but maybe Gareth thought that Hyacinth was going to treat his concerns about his father as light-heartedly as she treated the concerns of everyone else, especially her family. And maybe Hyacinth expected Gareth to open up about his feelings completely because if he loved her he would be honest with her.

That just sounds like a two way problem to me. And while I don't agree with how Violet handled it, I can't help but think she might have been a little bit right.

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Linzin Week 2021: Day 3 - Stargazing (part 2)

WIP Pre-Canon AU Lin x Tenzin Rating: Eventual M To the Linzin week 2021 organizers: Is it fine to post a WIP - a serialized contribution? Will post it in AO3 as well once completed ✌🏽 Read part 1 here.

Republic City, a couple of months ago

 After another one of their shouting matches, Tenzin gripped the edges of the dining table tightly. Lin, at the other side, stood up as well, breathing heavily.

Their arguments were becoming more frequent in the past few weeks. It started with small things in the household and soon escalated to the more Serious Stuff.

To be honest, Tenzin was no longer quite sure what their argument tonight started with. He watched warily the earthbending drinking water in front of him. Whatever they started with, tonight’s fight ended with both accusing the other of not being as committed to their relationship as the other.

Lin put down her glass of water. “We can’t resolve this in one night, can we?” There was resignation on her expression.

Tenzin ran a hand on his face. “No, we can’t.”

“What do we do now?” Lin toyed with the fringes of the tablecloth that his mother had gifted them with as a housewarming present. When they had informed their parents that they will move in together at this quaint apartment at the edge of Republic City, Katara was excited to hear that they were taking their relationship seriously and had immediately turned to sewing them something for the house. “We can’t continue like this.”

He let go of the table, moving backwards to lean on the counter behind him. Tenzin felt tired suddenly. It was as if all the stress from the past weeks dropped on his shoulders.

His father has started to unload more responsibility of the Air Nation to him. Lin, meanwhile, had been promoted recently. Not to mention, the city council had been hounding him to convince his mother to allow a statue to be erected in her honor. Katara hated that.

“Maybe we should -.”

“You’re right.” He interrupted, causing Lin to look up at him. “We can’t go on like this. I agree - we should break up.”

“Break up?” Lin was taken aback. “What are you – that wasn’t what I -.”

Tenzin backpedaled. “That wasn’t what you were going to suggest?”

“No!” Lin worked her mouth, opening and closing. She was at a loss for words. She decided to sit down. “I was going to say take a break, get back to it later, just not…” She gestured her hands to the food on the table. “Now. Let’s have dinner first.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But, Tenzin, really, be honest – is that what you think? How long have you been thinking… Do you think we should break up?”

 ---

Lin worried her lip between her teeth, forcing herself to control her feelings as Tenzin, after saying a few choice words, left the house to cool off.

She wanted to swipe her arm on the different dishes on the table. The night started so innocuous; she had gotten home early to prepare a special dinner for them.

Somehow, it had gone sideways quickly. All their previous arguments were unearthed and until they ended up with a mutual agreement. One that, she hoped, would not bite them in the ass.

It was a shame to let the food go to waste.

Even if her appetite had all but vanished, Lin was not one to throw food away. She piled a little bit of everything on her plate and poured herself a glass of wine. She carried the plate and glass outside to their small balcony. She started eating, balancing the plate and glass on the railing, and was drawn to the stars that were visible from their balcony.

Admittedly, it was one of the things that attracted Tenzin and her to renting out this apartment. It was far enough for their privacy, near enough to be accessible to their workplaces and high enough that the city’s artificial light does not obscure the view of the nighttime sky.

The earthbender chewed her food contemplatively. It would be shame to move out, wouldn’t it?

 ---

City hall

“Good afternoon, Captain! Councilman Tenzin is in his office right now.” Tenzin heard his assistant from the other side before his office doors burst open.

Enter Captain Beifong of RCPD, who strode purposefully in, stopping only when she was right in front of his desk. The doors swung shut behind her.

“Tenzin!” She leaned on the desk and Tenzin could see the vein on her forehead.

“Good afternoon to you too, Captain Beifong.” He played dumb to prolong the inevitable.

“You know why I’m here.” Lin rolled her eyes. “Would you care to tell me why did I just have lunch with your parents and that they, oh, that they were booking a room for the two for us in the next family getaway?”

“Listen Lin – .”

“No, you listen. Why didn’t you tell them we’re done? That we’ve broken up?”

“I can’t, okay? They’re both so pleased for us. I’m looking for a good timing.”

Lin scoffed. “Is there ever a good timing to break up?”

“Well.” Tenzin scratched his beard.

“Don’t – answer that!”

“And I can’t disappoint Dad right now.”

“Of course, that’s the reason. After all that’s exactly why we -.” Lin cleared her throat and Tenzin could see how she visibly tried to control herself. “Well, alright then. As long as we’re on the same page.”

 ---

 Neither one had gone public about it, but it was fairly obvious at their respective workplaces.

Interestingly, no one dared ask about it. It was probably because there were more infinitely important issues that took residence on the news headlines. The Triads were acting up and the construction of the Southern Water Tribe cultural center had finally started. There was also something about Fire Nation colonies in the Earth Kingdom that newly crowned Queen Houting was declaring Earth Kingdom subjects.

The city was preoccupied with other things, his parents were away, and her mother has relinquished her position in both the metalbending academy and the police department.

She had to hand it to Tenzin, now that Lin thought about it – it was a good time to break up.

 ---

They were practical.

They were responsible.

They were the smart ones.

And yet, Tenzin questioned if they were really intelligent – given their decisions as of late.

He lightly fingered the small bright yellow piece of paper that Lin left on their corkboard. It had been their practice to leave notes as needed; sometimes to leave sweet messages or to let the other know where they would be during the day.

The airbender crumpled the paper in his palm.

Now that they have broken up, the corkboard mainly contained reminders for their bills, a grocery list or a chore schedule.

Tenzin snorted.

Yes, they were real smart, deciding to continue sharing a living space with their ex.

Close quarters, close contact – heck, even one bed (“Not gonna matter, airhead, we’re barely home at the same time anyway.”).

He had been revisiting their decision in the past months.

He started to see the little things that he had taken for granted.

And, what he initially thought was a sense of relief was starting to taste like regret.

Meanwhile, Lin, as he saw it was quite able to adjust to their living arrangements.

She was more subdued at home the earlier part of their break-up. But, resilient as she is, she started to go back to normal.

He kicked off his sandals and padded towards the balcony.

Which building, he wondered at the blinking lights, was she in now?

What was she doing right now?

Or who – his mind added nastily.

The crumpled note in his hand said: “Roommate – I’ll be out late. Don’t wait up.”

Roommate. He almost sneered. That’s what they’ve been reduced to.

TBC

[slutsofren]

not the only way

din x neutral reader✨

Summary: Things are going good in the world of bounty hunting alongside one Mandalorian and his green baby. But he wants more. He wants to see you with his own eyes.

Word count: 1,400 exactly lmao

basically we got to talking in the discord server about Din revealing his face and well- i couldn’t be bothered to stop soooooooo here is a totally self indulgent fluff piece for my loveee

read on ao3 here

----------

Things were… good. Better than good, they were great if you were being honest with yourself. You weren’t in the habit of jinxing things when everything always seemed like an uphill battle but you couldn’t deny how incredible the recent month was.

You’d been off carting around the galaxy with a beskar clad Mandalorian for nearly a year and a half. Your work with the man was a constant threat to your life, keeping you on your toes and being more vigilant meant you hardly had moments of reprieve. It was okay though, you thought. Days like this meant the universe to you.

Bounties came along easily, the most recent few hardly putting up a fight for their worth. The pay had been phenomenal. Fuel costs were low, maintenance on the Razor Crest were far and few in between now.

Yeah, things were good.

It was when things got slow did your mind wander. Thoughts of the man under the beskar helm, how his voice would sound without the modulator distorting it. Was it naturally low or was that the manipulation of the helmet, you wondered. Like small clouds shifting in the wind your mind tried to conjure up ideas of the color of his eyes or the texture of his hair. There were so many possibilities.

Your mindless daze got the attention of the man on your mind. “What are you thinking? You look lost in thought,” he spoke beside you in the cockpit of the Razor Crest.

“I’m wondering how long this is going to last, Mandalorian.”

His sharp silver helmet tilted to the side, wordlessly encouraging you to continue.

“The last few jobs have been easy, you know? We haven’t had anybody chasing us in weeks. These last few days have been really peaceful and it’s nice. I can’t help but wonder that’s all.”

He let out a soft hum at your admission, likely feeling the same way. He was tired, stars you were both tired. It wasn’t like either one of you were getting any younger either. Being chased by the last remnants of the Empire really aged the two of you.

The Child, Grogu, cooed in Din’s arms and reached towards you, wanting to be held by you.As he settled in your lap the quiet hums of the ship filled the comfortable silence. Your mind still wandered as you stared into the mesmerizing sight of hyperspace as your trio scampered off to the next bounty.

Eventually you dozed off, as did Grogu, only for you to be awakened a short while after by a leather clad hand gently shaking your shoulder. You furrowed your brows, let out a questioning hum and opened your eyes. Din stood above you and you looked past his body out towards the window, noticing that you were all still in hyperspace. 

The Mandalorian held his gloved hand out towards you. “Come, I need to speak with you,” he paused, looking towards the sleeping child, “privately.” You accepted his hand and stood then placing the sleeping bundle into his pram in the corner and quietly shutting it closed.

Din led you through the shutter doors, just past the ladder leading toward the hull of the ship.

Towards his private quarters.

“Trust me,” was all he said after noting your hesitation. For all the time you’ve worked together the two of you have always gone out of your ways to give the other privacy and space. In such a small ship, it was well needed for both of your sanities some days.

Your eyes wandered around his room, taking in everything as fast as you could. Much like the rest of the Razor Crest, it was dark in his room save for the small blinking lights littered around the walls as indicators of various mechanics. You were able to see that he had few items, much like yourself. A small simple bed, a couple storage crates stacked neatly against the wall, his beskar spear and some blasters resting on top of a lone crate by his bed, and nothing else. Simple pleasures for a simple man, you thought.

“What did you want to talk about, Mandalorian,” you questioned.

For such a brute man on the field, he seemed to shrink into himself, his body language screamed the anxiety that lurked beneath. “Hey,” you put a hand on his right pauldron, the same one marked by his clan symbol, “what’s going on?”

“I would like to kiss you,” he admits softly just before a whisper of your name crosses his lips.

You straighten up for a brief moment, taken back by surprise. He notices this, as he does everything, and takes a step back away from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Wait, Mandalorian, no,” you stop him and take a step and another step closer until you’re practically breathing in his scent. Bergamot, leather, and blaster powder fill your senses, his familiarity ingrained in your mind just as this moment will be. “I think I would like that too.”

You raise your hands up towards the dark fabric of his cape that tucks just beneath his chest piece, your eyes focused on the visor of his helmet. Your spine steels itself in its place, each breath that escapes your lips filling your heart with more and more hope that this is happening.

This is really happening.

“Are you sure, cyar’ika?”

“More than anything.”

His own hands reach up and cup your face, bringing his helmet down to lean gently on your forehead softly. A Mandalorian kiss. 

This was a lot for him, you knew. The creed, the covert, everything about his status as a Mandalorian relied on secrecy and honor. He was trusting you with this and in return, you’d honor him.

Your bounty hunter leaned away as his hands left your face. Inhaling a sharp breath, you closed your eyes in anticipation as a hiss filled your ears noting that he removed the heavy metal from his head.

The fabric of his thick cape itched under your palms as you inched your fingers higher and higher slowly to the back of his neck. Giving him a chance to stop if he needed to.

Soft hair tickled the tips of your fingers, a small breathy chuckle left your lips at the feeling. Soft delicate touches reached forward and you began to feel the roughness of facial hair along his jaw, your smile grew wider. “Cyar’ika,” Din’s deep voice tingled your ears.

Oh, you thought, you could never get used to this but you’d welcome it all the same. “What is it, Din?”

“Open your eyes,” he asked softly, nearly a murmur, “let me see your eyes.”

Your heart fluttered at this. Uncertainty pushed far to the center of your mind. “Din-,” you began.

“Don’t worry your pretty mind with anything, just,” he stumbled, “please let me see you.”

“But The Way-,” you began.

“The Way doesn’t have to be the only Way.”

A heartbeat passed. Two. Three.

Opening your eyes was likely the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life, all these worries infested your mind but that voice, that pleading. It was so hard to resist when Din’s sweet voice asked so softly to see you.

Those small blinking lights casted a soft glow on the face in front of you. The first feature you noticed were his lips, by the stars, his lips. Your gaze trailed upwards to his well groomed mustache, a feature you’ll likely store away for later in your mind, his sharp prominent nose, and finally his eyes.

Stars, his eyes.

He gazed upon you like it was your first time seeing each other, truly seeing the other. And it was, in a way.

“Din, you’re so handsome,” you spoke softly. His lips twitched a smile at your admission. He leaned his head forward and gave you yet another Mandalorian kiss. You threaded your fingers to the back of his head, feeling the soft curls beneath your fingers as the two of you inhaled each other’s presence. You whispered, “Kiss me.”

Tentatively his lips touched yours and it wasn’t perfect by any means but you still felt as if you were as light as a feather. His mouth moved in tandem with yours deepening the kiss the two of you always wanted but never let yourselves have.

Not once have you seen more beautiful brown eyes.

[whenimaunicorn]

The Split

The Mandalorian x female Reader

(gif contributed by @bennskywalker​) (much love and undying gratitude to @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ for constant cheerleading, support, and beta services, and saving me every time I felt stuck on a scene; and also to @cptnbvcks​ for indulging the Big Meat headcanon and guaranteeing it’s happening in all my fics)

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: choking, spanking, dominance/submission, threats during intimacy, rough sex Words: 8478

Summary: The Reader is a fellow Nevarran bounty hunter, working with the Mandalorian to catch a quarry and splitting the reward. They keep renegotiating the split until passions spark and other, kinkier interests start slipping out.

Full Fic:

There’s one thing you can appreciate about working with the Mandalorian: he sure knows how to be terrifying to his quarry. It’s not about bluster with him, or wild threats that can make a hunter seem unhinged; it’s in his sheer presence. He’s caught up to the quarry you’ve been tracking together, and now he looms over his prey like he’s inevitable.

‘Course, you’d never let him know he even made you shiver. “Enough with the dramatics,” you say to him, coming up behind the cowering bounty and yanking her arms together behind her back. “I’m the one that got her blaster out of her hand, and that’s the hardest part. Once they’re disarmed it’s all over. That ups my cut to 70%.”

A frustrated little hiss emanates from your business partner. He points that looming mask more squarely at you. “Fifty-five was what we agreed,” he says, words clipped. “And that was only because you had the specific location—”

“Without which your schedule wouldn’t have been worth shit,” you finish for him, pressing the binder around your quarry’s wrists. At least, the metal cuff clicks shut around one of them…

Suddenly the woman is whirling around, slamming the solid metal of the binder, hanging off just one wrist, right into your stomach.

You try to grab her but the momentum is not in your favor, especially with the wind knocked squarely out of your gut. You brace your hands on your knees, willing yourself not to fall completely down as you fight the pain, not in front of Mando, and manage to suck in a decent breath as you look up with involuntary tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Just in time to see the Mandalorian grab the woman by the throat, stopping her escape in its tracks. He shoves her to her knees, bristling with frank irritation, and presses the muzzle of his blaster to the side of her skull. “Stay down.”

You stagger one step in their direction. Your gut hurts just about as much as your pride.

You can’t see a smirk on that cold metal face, but you know there has to be one as he looks over at you. “What were you saying about the hard part of the job being over? I’ll take that seventy.”

“This gets you maybe an extra five,” you wheeze, stomping to the quarry kneeling at his feet and jamming her other hand into the binder where it belongs. “And you’re forgetting that I was the one that noticed her sneaking out that hatch in the back.”

Another one of his annoying silences follows, the one where he stands so still and makes you wait, just guessing what thoughts might be bouncing around inside the helmet. “And she’s going back in my ship. My fuel, my carbonite. I’ll take sixty.”

You huff.

“You’re the one that started this. I would have been fine with the original agreement.”

You roll your eyes. “We’ll talk about it after she’s loaded in.”

“Up,” the Mandalorian barks at the quarry, digging those orange-tipped fingers into the cloth covering her shoulder and hauling her to her feet.

The woman complies, looking defeated, and you all start walking across the plateau toward where the Razor Crest has been hidden. Mando’s been in the game too long to pay docking fees at an official spaceport on a planet so chaotic that you can get away without.

Soon enough, the quarry says what everyone with a price on their head says, once the binders are tight around their wrists. “You know, you two really don’t have to worry about your split. Just let me get back to my guys, I can pay you each as much as that whole price on my head.”

You snort. “If that were true, we wouldn’t have found you working in such a shit-hole. No way the syndicate values you that much.”

“I seem to recall a story about you taking up a quarry on an offer like that once,” Mando’s modulator emits at you. He slows his pace so he can see your face as the three of you trudge across the uneven ground. “Didn’t it end with another Guild member finding you stripped and tied up in a cellar? That would have been a sight to see.”

“I heard that story too,” you shoot back. “Wasn’t me. But if you want to see me like that, Mando, maybe you can try to play your cards right a little later…” you force your mouth to close. Not the most well-thought-out comeback. Nor the kind of thing to say if you want a fellow Hunter’s respect. Which you do. It’s just that there’s something about the Mandalorian that’s damned enticing, that makes you wonder if he ever loosens up even a little, lets anyone touch the warm body that’s gotta be somewhere underneath all that armor.

“I know a good hotel in the East Quarter,” the quarry pipes up before Mando gives you a response, “soft mattresses, and real good soundproofing in the walls. Maybe you two need to work out some of this sexual tension before taking me back to the ship? You can just stick me in another room until you’re done.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d just twiddle your thumbs and wait real nice for us.” You stick your blaster into her ribs and prod her to move faster, just for being annoying. “Sweet of you to be so generous, but don’t worry. He and I’ll have plenty of privacy while you’re stashed away in carbonite for the ride to Nevarro.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet turns toward you sharply.

“What? It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mando, but I always collect in-person. I’m riding with you.”

  Mando’s ship is a real bare-bones operation; it’s not much more than a cargo hold and a cockpit. It’s almost enough to make you regret insisting on coming along. You can’t find a spot to get comfortable in, and there’s nothing to do. Mando’s not helping; he’s been sitting at the controls of the ship, back perfectly straight, since take-off. The course has already been set; the eerie lines of hyperspace are streaking by, and there’s nothing in this cockpit that actually requires his attention unless something goes wrong.

“So… what do you usually do while you’re in hyperspace?” you finally ask, slouching against the cockpit wall.

Mando’s hands turn palm up. “This.”

“You serious?”

He shrugs. “Good time to meditate.”

You look out at the rushing stars. “You have got to be kidding me. I’d go completely crazy in about five minutes.”

“You probably would,” he says. So calm, so matter-of-fact.

You look down at him sharply. He hasn’t moved a muscle, though he could be looking at you sideways through his visor and you’d never know. Infuriating. You plop down into the seat behind him. “You don’t think I’m capable of being quiet?”

“I’ve never known you to be.”

You flip your hair. “Some of us have a thing called ‘people skills.’ But it doesn’t look like they cover that in Mandalorian school.”

Now he turns his face toward yours. “Is that what you think you have.”

You nod, stifling the quick words that heat up your tongue so you can prove how quiet you can be.

“I’ve seen you try to get free drinks from soldiers that haven’t had shore leave in months, and still not be able to seal the deal.”

Mando? Teasing you? That’s new. You scoff at the accusation. “You just left too early. You would have seen where that night went. Try loosening up a little sometimes.”

Another silence. Then he swivels away from you, back to his perfect posture. “No thanks.”

“What are you jealous?”

The stack of armor in the pilot’s seat gives you no reaction at all.

You exhale loudly. “You know, I always thought you must have had some other kind of life to go back to, the way you drop those pucks off with Karga and never stick around.” You glance down the ladder at the empty cargo hatch, thinking of the junky little cot you saw crammed into a closet down there. “But you really live like this? Nothing but work for you, huh. Is that what it takes to be the best hunter in the sector?”

His helmet moves a fraction in your direction. “At least you can admit it.”

Your face gets hot. You did not mean to give that to him. “Some people say that about you.” You cross your arms, trying to get more comfortable by throwing your feet up on the control panel to his left.

He rolls his neck, beskar facing pointedly at your feet until you huff and move them.

Your frustration cracks into all-out mockery. “Ooh,” you blurt out in a sing-song voice, “I’m Mando, when I’m not hunting I sit perfectly straight and stare into space; my capture rate is near-perfect because I never sleep and guns are my religion.”

His helmet tilts above his metal-encased shoulder, dangerously close to actually looking at you again. “If you’re going to keep running your mouth like that, I can think of a few ways to make you shut up.”

It takes you a moment to recover from the rush that shoots through your body, a confusing mix of adrenaline and frank arousal as he speaks to you with the tone he usually reserves for quarries. Then you bark out a laugh. “Mando! Did you just make a dirty joke?”

Slowly he swivels the chair toward you, until he’s facing you squarely with his legs spread and fists on his knees. “I suppose you could take it that way.”

And then he just sits there, staring at you, as you decide which way to take it. Was he trying to say he hadn’t meant it as a come-on? That you’re the only one here with a dirty mind, that immediately imagined him shoving his cock down your throat? Fuck. Or does he want you to take it that way, to climb into his lap and sit your ass down on the battered metal plate covering his thigh…

You have to shake your head a little to make the thoughts stop. That is so not what he means. “You’re just mad that we make a great team,” you say, standing up and grinning, trying a new tactic. “That after almost bungling the hunt today,” the helmet cocks sharply at that accusation, “you realize that you need me. I’ve got skills you can’t even come close to.”

It’s hard to determine what sound comes out of his modulator, but you think it’s a snort. “What are you talking about.”

“My aforementioned people skills, for a start. Don’t forget I was the one that took in that warlord on Strigoth by getting him to follow me out to the edge of town without any of his guards. Not everything has to be a shootout. And I knew the quarry today was going to run before you did.”

Mando crosses his arms over his chestplate. “Keep telling yourself that. I’m still not raising your percentage.”

“I can hack any security system since the final Imperial update release, which is most of them in the Rim, and on top of all that”—you swing your left hand in like you’re going to slap him upside the helmet, and when he lifts his arm to block, you smack him over the ear with your right—“I’m faster than you.”

You jump back instantly, not sure how he’s going to react. His body tenses up into a fighter’s crouch, starting to come up out of the chair toward you. Then he sits back down, body language deliberately relaxing. He adjusts his helmet with one hand. “You’re a child.”

“I call it playful,” you shoot back, the adrenaline rush of what you just did almost making you giggle. “Another asset you seem to be lacking.”

He only shrugs in response, then swivels back to facing the oncoming stars.

He’s given you an opening that’s impossible to resist. As soon as his back is turned you swing your open hand forward. He’s ready for it, which you basically expected, and he knocks your arm away before you can make contact with his helmet this time. And ouch, that gauntlet of his jars your forearm all the way to the bone. You make a frustrated little noise. “Well, if you want to stick to business, we still have to talk about the final terms of the split. We can go back to 55-45, if you admit that today I had the superior skills.”

“With you taking the forty-five?”

“Hell no.”

He pauses, and you think he’s about to say something mature and reasonable, like he always does. Instead, he comes back with a very calmly-worded: “I could put you out the airlock right now.”

You swear there’s a wry little tone to that modulated voice. “You’d have to catch me first”—you slap the bucket on his head again—“and we’ve already determined I’m faster than you.”

“Stop that,” he growls, finally standing up. His cloak swirls dramatically and you try to suppress the primal feelings that make you a little weak in the knees when he comes up to his full height in such close quarters.

“Make me.” The words are out of your mouth before you can decide if they’re really such a good idea.

The Mandalorian’s helmet tilts. Now it’s his turn to try and work out what you may or may not be implying. When he finally speaks, there’s a new tone in his voice, one that catches something deep in your belly and drags. “You think you can take me?”

…Can you? You may be as good a Hunter as he is, but you couldn’t say unarmed combat is one of your strong suits. And you don’t even want to think about how much he out-weighs you, especially with all that armor on. But how can you possibly eat your pride and back down after you’ve provoked this?

You look around the tiny space of the Razor Crest’s cockpit. Mando’s helmet stays squarely aimed at your face.

“A lot of expensive equipment in here,” you say casually. “Wouldn’t want to damage anything throwing down right now.”

“Mm-hmm.” His skeptical hum makes the modulator crackle. Did he just lean in closer?

At this point the sexual tension is thrumming like a mis-firing engine in the space between you. If he had a face you could read, a mouth you could tilt your face up and kiss, you’d know what to do, but this? Even your renowned ‘people skills’ are failing you now.

You look away from the impassive, dark lens that covers his eyes, and that’s when he retaliates. One heavy gloved hand whips around your side and thuds a stinging strike right into your ass. The impact knocks you forward, almost into his chest, but you stop yourself before your hands touch his breastplate.

You suck in a breath and freeze, wide eyes drawn like a magnet back to that beskar face. Mando just spanked you. Hard. Mando… just… The pain ignites an arousal so sudden and strong that you’re worried you’re about to start trembling. It would absolutely kill your reputation if any Hunter found out that your sexual tastes ran submissive, that a deep secret part of you wanted nothing but to be overpowered and forced, to be used by someone stronger than you, better than you…

You can’t think of anything to do but flee. “I… uh…” His helmet tilts again, watching your face closely as you stutter. “Yeah, I guess I was being a little too childish. I’ll stop…stop trying to make you lighten up.” Your eyes slide away from his helmet’s eye slit, unable to handle even the imagined eye contact. “I’ll leave you alone to do whatever it is you do up here. Meditate. I’m gonna go down and…” you make for the ladder to the cargo hold, “and clean my blaster.”

He just watches you go. You can still feel the impact of his hand on your ass, with every movement of your leg as you climb down the rungs of the ladder. Fuck, it’s making your pussy tingle just a badly, too. Your head has just dropped below the hatch when Mando’s modulated voice follows you down with a suggestion that sounds suspiciously like a command. “Why don’t you clean mine, too.”

You feel your face and chest getting hot as soon as you get down to the relative privacy of the ship’s lower level. If you were trying to maintain control of the conversation, you’d say something sassy back to that, not let him win an inch of dominance, but you’re not in control anymore, are you? Not of yourself, not of whatever this is that’s going on between you. And it’s so dangerous. How would you keep his respect, if your top competitor in the Guild knew this about you, what you wanted him to do to you…

Mando’s weapon rack is set into the wall across from the ladder. Certainly there’s cleaning supplies stashed somewhere in that section, but you’re too shaky to get right to work. Instead, you walk down along the racks of carbonite, idly inspecting his cargo as you try and pull yourself together.

Four of the racks are currently occupied; the Mandalorian has been busy. Each one is tagged with a bounty’s chain code. You recognize two of them from Karga’s list. Quarries that you had passed on, that seemed too difficult to be worth their price. Bastard was about to show you up again when he unloaded these trophies.

You take a deep breath when you reach the end of the line. Your ass still tingles in the most tantalizing way, but you grit your teeth and tell yourself to ignore it. Maybe if you just stay down here, avoid your traveling companion until the ship reaches Nevarro, everything else will go just fine. No more bruises to your pride, no dirty secrets revealed. Yeah. That’s smart.

You turn and Mando is just there, boxing you in between the racks of carbonite carriers. How can a guy covered with so much metal be this stealthy? You try not to let shock show on your face; which only means you end up freezing like a prey animal.

“You liked that.” He makes the accusation solidly, with the weight of heavy interest bearing down behind it.

“What are you talking about.” You know, but you don’t want to answer for the heat that surely showed in your face when Mando spanked you. You try to wiggle past him, but he doesn’t acknowledge your intent, makes no move to make way for you.

“You know.” He’s just staring down at you.

You twitch in irritation and decide if he’s ignoring personal space, so can you. Your chest and thigh slide against solid armor as you force your body through the gap between him and the carbonite. “Get out of my way.”

His helmet is the only thing that moves, tracking your labored progression. “Make me.” He echoes your earlier challenge with an amused little tone.

“Fine.” You use your entire body weight to slam him into the rack on the other side. But he recovers too quickly; when you try to step away, into the center of the ship’s hold, he gets an arm around your chest.

As if your adrenaline wasn’t spiking already; now your combat reflexes kick in and you pull him in tighter, squatting low and grabbing that arm for leverage. With a quick burst of effort from your legs, you flip him over your shoulder.

You follow him down, taking advantage of the way a fall inside all that metal has to stun him, and climb on top of his body. “Fifty-five percent.” You also attempt to change the subject.

He reaches up and it’s a struggle to control his arms. He’s kriffing strong, and you’ve already taken off your combat equipment with the hidden tricks you usually use to deal with opponents that are bigger than you. He twists underneath you, in some way that you don’t expect, and with a rough shove and a brief crushing sensation along one leg you find yourself flat on the deck beneath him. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t like this?” his modulator purrs down at you.

Subject not changed. Every one of your nerve endings is in high gear now, and there’s a powerful urge inside you that wants to mewl and spread your legs apart for him right here, like a bitch in heat acknowledging the alpha male. You push the image back with a growl between your teeth, and use your thighs only to try and throw him off you.

Mando responds to your offensive by smothering you back down with his hips. Something solid crushes into the apex of your thighs, and you remember his armor does not have a codpiece.

A feral little moan escapes past your lips. Mando stops, lifting up just a little off your body and cocking his helmet to the side where it hovers only a hand’s breadth above your face. “What was that?” he asks, voice pleased.

And just like that, the whole game has changed. You were so worried he was trying to embarrass you, get one over on you. But if he likes it like this too… You reach your hand down boldly and throw his question back at him. “What’s this?” you ask as your palm makes contact with a delightfully solid bulge straining against the thick fabric of his pants.

A deep rumble purrs out of his modulator. “If you can manage to behave, maybe you’ll find out.”

How does he know exactly what to say to make you squirm? Your body floods with heat as you inwardly flail around to find a non-submissive answer. “And what happens if I don’t behave?”

“Then, maybe things get really interesting.”

Oh. Fuck. Now there’s an option. Maybe you don’t even have to submit to get the kind of tumble you want from him. You bare your teeth in a ferocious, challenging grin, and take advantage of the way he’s pulled his weight back to twist out from under him, knocking his helmet one more time with your elbow as you go.

You scramble across the deck out from under him, but a heavy hand catches your belt before you can get very far. You kick but Mando’s already inside your reach; your heel glances off his armor without even slowing him down.

He tugs on your belt, harshly, and climbs over the backs of your legs to force you down. “Where do you you think you’re going?” His voice is tight with the effort of getting himself positioned on top of you, squishing your belly into the deck.

“Mmf” is the sound you make in response, because now he’s pressing a forearm into your back and putting most of his weight on it.

“Hold still.” You give him a little token resistance, but mostly you let him get settled how he wants, holding you down to the floor evenly with the left side of his body. Leaving his right hand free. “So. What happens when you don’t behave.”

He spanks you, solid and centered and sharp.

You expected it just enough to hold your breath, and make sure you don’t cry out. You may be face-down on the floor under the Mandalorian, but you still have your pride. The first smack is followed by two more, and he grunts when you still don’t make a noise.

Heavy fingers smooth over the sting in your flesh. His hand feels amazing as it covers the swell of your ass, a slow, deliberate drag that feels warmer than it ought to and much more soothing than you expected.

“What’s it going to be, Y/N?” he asks. When you don’t answer fast enough for him, he swats at your other cheek, lazy and powerful.

Maybe he got a little noise out of you with that last one; it’s just too hard to stay quiet and not flinch both at the same time under the strength of that arm.

His helmet comes closer down to your face. “It’s okay to let go.” He speaks with such confidence, such seductive calm. “I can tell you want to submit. You don’t have to keep fighting it.” He shifts on top of you. “Though I do like it when you struggle.”

Your body rolls enticingly underneath him, without your brain’s permission. “Don’t you dare tell anyone you got me like this.”

“Of course not.” His answer is immediate. You remember how he’s always been an honorable man, that part of his reputation impeccable. Perhaps you really can trust him with this side of you. He sticks to the Code, he honors his promises, and lives by the Way of the Mandalore.

That last one begs a certain question, of course. “I wasn’t sure that Mandalorians could even have sex.”

A throaty noise makes the modulator crackle. “We have our ways.” A pause. “Is that what you want?”

You lift your head a little higher. He doesn’t give you much freedom, but he shifts just enough to help you feel comfortable breathing again. “If that’s what you’re offering, yeah, I wouldn’t be opposed to things ending up there.”

His hand gropes over your ass, fingers diving to tease more sensitive flesh between your legs. “After we… resolve a few things.” He grips tightly, almost cruelly. You agree in a sound that comes out much more high-pitched than you intended as he palms your ass and kneads it boldly. “Like whether you’re ready to start behaving like a good girl now.”

You still can’t bring yourself to just say yes, as hot as his words are making you. But you curl into his hand, just a little. To encourage him.

He growls something in a language you don’t know. It sounds like a curse and his weight is pressed down on you again as he scrambles with your belt, loosening your pants just enough to shove everything off the curve of your hips, baring you to mid-thigh in the ship’s cool air. When he spanks you now it’s sharper, the sting lighting up your tender flesh under every open-palmed strike that just keeps coming and coming. “Rubbing your ass on me does not count as an answer.” Smack. “I want to hear you say it.” Smack. “That you submit.” Smack. “That your ass is mine tonight.” A few involuntary cries squeeze out of your throat before he relents and rubs you again, the leather of his glove singing over your overstimulated skin.

You slow your panting breaths before you speak up, endeavoring to match his even tone. “Maybe I’ll play along for a little while.” You twist further, until you can stare up into his silver mask. “What do you want me to do?”

He pulls back, sitting up on his hip. From the angle of his helmet you’d guess that your answer does not really count as the submission he was looking for. Nor did you mean it to be. Someone’s gonna top you, they’ve got to earn it. Even if they are already, physically, on top of you. His moment of thought ends. “Take off your clothes.”

His hand squeezes at your ass one more time as you shift, like he’s loathe to let go while you comply with his command. You make as quick of work with your boots as you can, then push your bottoms off after them. Mando’s sitting beside you, leaning up against a large cargo crate, helmet fixed on your slowly-revealed body.

You’re so self-conscious that your skin feels like it could be glowing, as you bare it for him inch by inch. There’s nothing to read in that cold helmet, but its angle never wavers, riveted on you.

Once you’ve gotten yourself completely naked, he beckons you to come to him with two curling fingers. It’s amazingly erotic to move toward him with nothing on, while every inch of the Mandalorian warrior is still covered in battle-scarred plates.

He reaches out, palm up for your hand. You place your hand in his and he draws you in, until you’re kneeling right beside him. His fingers trail up your arms, over your shoulders, coaxing you closer. His touch is lighter than you expected. But you can hear him breathing through the mask. He’s struggling to stay this calm. To savor this.

His helmet tips down as his fingers knead harder; he watches himself press and squeeze the flesh of your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. The modulator translates another buzzing hum. Does it fascinate him, to see so much bare and vulnerable skin, when he can show none?

You feel your nipples tighten, a silent craving for contact. This feels good, but you want so much more. You look right into his eye slit. “I won’t break,” you say, twisting yourself tighter into the grip of his hands.

The Mandalorian growls and rises up to his knees, helmet filling your vision as he presses himself close and rakes his fingers down your back. He’s looking down at your panting chest and squeezing your ribs, watching the way your pristine tits are so close to brushing against his dirty metal chestplate. He clutches you in, pressing your belly against his, betraying a desire for closeness that he just can’t achieve.

Your hands come up to his shoulders, burrowing through the cowl wrapped around his collar, trying to make contact. Your fingers curl up the column of his neck, where the thinner fabric lets you feel a hint of his body heat. He stiffens when you come close to the bottom of his helmet.

“Leave it,” he snarls, just as you’re telling him “Don’t worry, I wasn’t—"

He scoops you up tightly and sets you on top of the cargo crate he had been leaning against. Your legs open and wrap around him of their own volition as he presses between them. You cross your ankles underneath his cloak, locking his body in close. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, just inside the pauldrons, but don’t attempt to slide under anything again.

Leather-clad fingers rake up your ribs, dragging up the sides of your body before they close over your breasts. Finally. You arc into him and let your eyes close, feeling the texture of his gloves across sensitive skin, the hungry twisting and tugging against your nipples.

“Open your eyes,” he demands, voice breathy with as much arousal as you’re feeling. “I want you to look at me, keep looking at me, let me see…”

He trails off, but you can guess what he means. Let him see what it feels like to be touched. You tip your chin down and lock your eyes on that T-shaped window in his helmet. His fingers pinch around both your nipples at once and your jaw drops. He tickles around the edges, then grabs up the full swell of your tits and squeezes. Your eyes try to flutter shut; it’s already hard to remember his instruction.

He settles into an entirely delicious rhythm, kneading your peaks, watching every crease of your brow, reading every gasp and twitch of your lip so that he can tweak at your nipples just right, until the pleasure is almost unbearable. You don’t even realize your eyes have fallen closed until his hand disappears from one of your tits and slaps at your cheek.

It’s not hard, just a slight sting, the corrective swat of a playful alpha. “Eyes,” he reminds you, then goes right back to his blissful torture.

Your core is warming almost unbearably. Every tug at your nipples is drawing a tingling line of pleasure right down between your thighs, taking the heat that had already awoken there during your spanking and fanning the flames, until the need for more is almost unbearable. “Mando,” you moan, tilting your hips forward on the crate, “please…”

A pleased little sound comes out of the modulator. “Please what?”

“Urmmm,” you moan at him, twisting your body, trying to scoot your hips a little closer to him. “I need more.”

He responds by pinching your nipples harder, just enough pain to make you gasp and curl. You pout up toward his helmet. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But you like it.” He does it again, and this time you cry out. A stabbing ache deep between your legs reminds you you’re still not getting what you want.

Fingers tickle down your belly, brushing across your inner thighs. Then they slide around behind and pinch you hard on the ass. You wail in frustration.

Mando tips his helmet closer to your face. “Tell me again how I don’t know how to be playful.”

“Fuck!” you cry through gritted teeth.

“Fuck what?”

Your hands scramble down his armored chest, aiming for his belt to just reach down and show him what you want.

“Uh uh.” He grabs your wrists before you can do more than pop the buckle on his utility belt. “Hands stay on my shoulders.”

You immediately comply, too far gone now to be contradictory. “Fuck me, Mando.”

“Oh yeah?” He straightens up a little, his posture cocky as he stands there wrapped in your naked legs. “You ready to say it?”

“I’m yours.” You don’t even hesitate. “Do whatever you want with me.”

He takes his belt the rest of the way off with one hand, lets it drop to the floor. The other hand is busy squeezing your ass, then traveling around your hip. He pushes your legs open a little wider, then his thumbs come running down your inner thighs, pulling at your labia, spreading you even more. You lean back, curling your hips up, to give him a better view.

His breath hisses out from under the helmet. “You want me to fuck this little pussy?”

“Yes,” you moan, as his thumbs stroke up and down, just around its edges.

He pulls you open wider. “You ready to be a good girl, and do exactly as I say?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Exactly,” he repeats, and a ghost of a chill runs down your spine in the midst of all this heat. He takes one of your hands from his shoulder, and turns it palm up near your mouth. “Spit.”

The thumb of his other hand is still sliding up and down next to your opening, not touching your wetness. You appreciate that he’s not about to let his dirty gloves make things unsanitary. You gather up saliva to the front of your mouth and carefully coat your first two fingers.

Mando keeps his grip on your wrist, and pushes your hand down to your entrance as soon as he’s done watching your lips and tongue work over your own fingers.

You smooth the spit over your slit, Mando’s grip still guiding you, making sure you do a thorough job lubricating yourself. His other thumb creeps down over your clit, rocking across it carefully, steadily, his helmet angling back up to watch your face.

It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open against the pleasure of that pressure, finally right where you need it. But you remember his rule. You keep your gaze locked on the beskar as your own fingers find a rhythm underneath his, the gloved hand locked around your wrist urging you to press into yourself deeper, faster, in coordination with his rolling thumb. You find yourself clutching at the back of his neck just to keep your balance as the needy pleasure explodes. “That’s it,” his voice soothes over the modulator, “get yourself ready for me.”

You’re doing more than getting ready. Even just this much touch from him is sending you straight toward a spiraling orgasm, now that all the wild pleasure built up by every slap and struggle and pinch finally has somewhere to go.

He sees it coming, the way your eyelids go tight at the effort to keep them open and looking at him. “Don’t,” he warns. “Save it.”

He stops moving his thumb, though he doesn’t release its pressure. He swirls your hand inside of yourself one last time before drawing it out, then setting it back onto his shoulder in line with the other one.

You can’t help but roll your hips against his thumb while Mando starts loosening his own clothing. You want to call him cruel when he removes that hand too, bringing it up to caress your neck, but you have no ability to talk back anymore. Especially when his fingers curl up underneath your jaw. “Now. The most important thing.” You can feel him pulling himself out of his pants, though he’s brought his body in closer and you can’t see that far with your head tilted up in his hand like this. “Don’t look down.” His fingers squeeze tighter around your jaw, the heel of his hand pressing into the top of your throat. “If you look, I’ll have to kill you.”

He could be exaggerating, just to make this hotter for you, more intense, but you remember what he said to some over-curious bitch at Karga’s tavern once. No living thing has seen me without my helmet. Apparently The Way is preserved if violators quickly become only the formerly living.

“Yes,” you say quickly, voicebox buzzing against his wrist, words mumbling together against the unrelenting pressure in his fingers, “I understand.”

A few more quick movements down where you can’t see, and then you feel something warm and thick pressing up against your core. You both moan together as he slides his head up and down your slick folds, only fumbling a little before he finds his aim. Fuck. This is what you’ve been craving. You brace yourself against the cargo crate as best you can, squeezing your legs around him to invite him in.

You think you're ready to take him, but you're not. He crushes in bigger and wider than you’re used to, and you wail up into that impassive beskar face and try in vain to remember how to relax and take a dick like this one.

His breath is catching in little straining grunts; apparently this is pretty overwhelming for him, too. When he’s halfway in he removes his guiding hand from his own shaft and returns his thumb to your clit; that helps. The more familiar pleasure of his pressure helps melt your walls into the stretch of him. “You’re so. Fucking. Tight.” His hand never wavers on your jaw as he starts to pump, in and out, getting a little bit deeper into you with every thrust, groaning a little louder with every inch he gains.

Fuck. This position has every muscle in your body straining, which is probably why it’s so hard for him to fit in, but you don’t even care because the intensity of it is everything that you’ve been craving. “Fuck—” he adjusts his grip just a fraction, so you can talk a little easier, “fuck me just how you want, Mando, I can take it.”

He groans and takes his thumb off your clit, bringing that big hand around to grab onto your hip and brace you for a wilder pace. You only bemoan the loss of his thumb for a second, because the new angle slides his cock against a wicked spot deeper inside you.

“Ahh!” you wail, and wrap your arms tighter around his neck, needing him to hold you up as he fucks up into you at an angle that destroys the precarious balance you had been maintaining on the edge of this cargo crate. His controlling grip on your neck is choking you just a little, a sensation so erotic that you can feel your impending orgasm sizzle and tighten all around his cock the more you focus on it. “Mando, I—Can I?” you pant, your face so close that your breath is fogging up the beskar.

“Yes, fucking come for me,” he orders, then presses into you harder, his grip momentarily cutting off your airway completely. A second later your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, spasming every muscle in your core, your thighs, in your silent, breathless chest, and Mando just keeps fucking you through it all.

As soon as the heel of his hand slides off your throat you’re screaming through your teeth, the sound bouncing along with his thrusts. His pace is relentless until your orgasm finally peaks, and the stiffness of your body starts to melt against him. You realize that you’ve wrapped your arms fully around his helmet, getting as close as his controlling grip on your jaw would allow.

His pace slows, but it does not stop. From the aching deep inside your belly, you know that he’s still fully hard, just giving you a brief moment to recover yourself.

You sigh into the side of his head, a long, lovely sound. Your body shivers with aftershocks around his solid shaft, keeping your pleasure brimming, not letting it fade. That hand controlling your jaw pushes you back, gently, until he can see your face again.

His grip spasms on your ass. He must like what he sees. “Close your eyes.” You do, and he starts to pull away. “Keep them closed. I’m turning you over.”

You unlock your ankles from behind his back as he draws his length out of your body, both of you gasping and shuddering as he withdraws. Your legs come down to the ground rather stiffly, and you’re glad of the way he manhandles you along, until you’re bending over the crate with your thighs pressed into its edge. You’re not sure your legs would have held you up without his help.

Mando wastes no time lining his cock back up again. You hold onto the edges of the cargo crate as he presses in eagerly. A gasp rips from your throat as your head lifts up in an involuntary bend of your back; this position lets him drive in deeper, forcing you to adjust to his size all over again.

A split second after your head comes up, Mando’s fingers squeeze through your hair at the base of your skull, using that grip to hold you steady and facing forward. You really weren’t trying to turn and look, but you suppose he can’t risk it. He keeps control of your head, pulling your hair a little in time to his thrusts, as he groans out a deep, pleasured sound. You give voice to how you’re feeling, too, letting little sobbing moans spill out in time to his insistent thrusts. He can’t see your face anymore, and you barely have the leverage to move your hips against him, so this is the only way to keep the connection.

“Oh, keep making those sounds,” Mando pants, then the modulator keeps crackling with more of his soft grunts as he plumbs your depths. “You take me so good.” When he flattens his hips against your ass it definitely hurts; he’s reached the end of you, and is trying to stretch past it, deep inside. But even that pain is erotic; you wail and submit under his praise and his smothering need.

His grunts and his thrusts both start coming faster, and just as you fear that you’re hitting your limit, that you can’t take any more, some new dimension of release and submission open up inside you, and all that suffering transforms into a pleasure so fierce that your walls are clenching and your mind is wiped by an orgasm that turns the rest of your body to jelly.

When your mind clears you find your cheek flush to the surface of the cargo crate. Mando’s hand is pressing it there, with his fingers wrapped across your eyes, and he’s groaning through his teeth as he smashes himself as deep into your body as he can get. He shudders and bucks, roaring through his orgasm, the modulator translating the sound with an almost musical edge.

When he’s done he sags partially on top of you, his belly resting on your hips while his arms keep his chestplate from digging into your back. His cock is keeping you plugged, a thick presence that makes you feel stretched even when it’s going soft. One of his hands is still resting over your eyes, but all the tension has gone out of it. You wonder if he’d feel the flicker of your eyelashes against his glove if your lids accidentally parted. You keep them closed.

He hums, fingertips running softly up your back. You wonder if he’s looking down, admiring your bare skin once again. Your entire body is thrumming, the satisfaction spreading to every muscle fiber. You know things will feel awkward soon, but for now you really don’t want to move.

Eventually Mando pulls himself gently out of you. A spurt of warm liquid follows, running thickly down your leg. Fuck, how backed up was he?

“Don’t move,” he warns, lifting his body up off of yours.

You give him a contented little murmur and stay perfectly relaxed. “Eyes still shut,” you reassure him. You’re not even annoyed at the lack of trust these constant reminders might convey. This is something he has to control strictly. Certainly it’s a great privilege that he even took the risk with you. You listen to his footsteps retreat and return, as you lay draped over the cargo crate and enjoy the bliss that is only just beginning to fade.

“You can open them now,” he says softly once he’s standing over you again. One hand slides over your ass, pausing at a spot that feels surprisingly sensitive. “I’ve given you a welt or two here.”

“Souvenir,” you grin up at him, twisting your spine while keeping your hips relaxed under his hand. “Thanks.”

Mando nods his helmet back at you. He’s got a cloth in his other hand, dampened from the fresher, and he wipes up the mess he’s left between your legs with careful, steady dabs. “I should be the one thanking you,” he says softly, maybe even a little awkwardly. “That was…”

“Overdue?” you quip, as he’s wiping all the way down to your ankle to clean up the enormous load he had for you.

“Maybe just a little.” He steps away to trade the towel for a thin, precisely-folded blanket, which he shakes out and spreads over you. You stand up in his arms as he does, guiding him to wrap it around your shoulders. You hold it tight and lean in toward him for a snug embrace. The blanket makes pressing your bare body against his armored plating much more comfortable. “Come here,” he mutters, and draws you to sit on the floor with him, leaning up against the cargo crate and each other. Even the afterglow of wild sex with the Mandalorian doesn’t make his spare ship any less uncomfortable, but you focus on the way his arm holds you tucked in tight against his body, the way you can feel him breathing against your ribs.

“That was good,” you breathe.

“Yeah.”

You lean your head tentatively against his shoulder, wondering how much intimacy he’s going to allow now. His arm shifts, helping you get more comfortable, and his thumb is dragging back and forth, idly, along the top of your thigh.

There’s one question you have to ask.

“Would you really have had to kill me, if I looked?”

He holds his breath for a moment, then lets it blow out with a soft glottal sound. “Most Mandalorians would. But honestly? To me, that wouldn’t have made a difference. Even if you didn’t live to tell the tale, my honor would still be smirched. I’d know I’d failed a central tenet, and from every day after I’d be living a lie.”

Your brow creases, and you turn to look up at him even though you can’t read his face. That was kriffing serious. “So it’s not just about the helmet.”

His beskar mask nods. “Not the way I was raised.”

You turn your gaze away, idly looking across the cargo bay. “Wow.” You’d never seen him not covered head to toe, and you never would.

“But I think…” he trails off as his hands burrow under your blanket, coming around to meet each other in front of your belly and fumbling with something. “I think this is acceptable.” His hand finds one of yours, and air rushes into your chest in a silent, measured gasp as you realize the fingers winding between yours are his, warm skin, completely bared to the wrist.

You sit together in silence for a long time, feeling the twin pulses of living palms pressed together, the small twitches of muscle and the sparkle of nerve endings when a finger softly strokes across the back of a hand. The more you imagine how much this must mean to him, the more it means to you, until your head is spinning and you can barely handle the intimacy of the kind of touch you’ve always taken simply for granted.

You’re afraid to ask what this means. This whole encounter was so unplanned; you don’t even know what you want from the Mandalorian, much less what he wants from you. Is he doing this just because of the afterglow rush of soft hormones, or does he think you and he could be something more?

And when you feel awkward, you talk. People skills, remember? You squeeze his hand and restart an old conversation. “Told you we make a good team.”

He grunts.

Maybe you should just shut up and enjoy the cuddle. But his non-answer does not help your racing mind to still. The urge to tease him starts taking over again. “You know, we’re still not done negotiating that split.”

Mando groans softly. “The only split I want to think about is how far I can split open your legs.”

A new thrill runs up your spine, but you stay on track with only a small giggle escaping your throat. “How about we round it back up to sixty percent for me, and as soon as that big dick can get hard again, I’ll throw on a blindfold and give you the best head you ever had in your life.”

Mando’s fingers card through yours, and his other hand comes up to play with your hair. “Tempting.” There’s a rumble deep in his throat that makes your aching cunt tighten. “But let’s just call it 50-50, and we can fuck all the way to Nevarro.”

Part Two here

My Mando Smut Masterlist

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[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 4

Title: A Different Type of High (part four)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst in the first half, some fluff in the second half

Content Warning: mentions of death, talks about parent death, relapse scare, suicidal ideation, talks about drug usage and drugs, anxiety/panic attacks, explanations of nightmares/night terrors, swearing, intrusive thoughts,

Word Count: 4,514

Summary: Reader nearly relapses because of the anniversary of her mother’s passing. 

A/N: this one does deal with some heavier topics (see CW's), so please proceed with caution. I originally had t his as on big long part, but, uh, it was too long. So it’s two parts… anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

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{***}{***}{***}

I sat in the living room with my eyes on the coffee table. Several orange pill bottles sat lined up on the edge. The way the light caught the plastic caught my attention, mostly in a bad way. I was already on edge, and my day was already ruined. Any number of things could have made my day bad, but we can easily put the blame on my mother. And, I’m not just saying that because she’s an easy target. No, I’m blaming her because she died a year ago on this very day.

I was hungry, and not for the food in my fridge. No, I was hungry for the high and the nothingness. The high that was dangerous and could likely kill me. Maybe that’s what I wanted. I mean, the only person I have in life to keep me grounded was Spencer… And we’ve only known each other for a short time. What if he’s faking it all? He doesn’t really care about me. He just says he does. Saying stuff I want to hear.

My body was on autopilot as my hand moved towards the bottles. The grip I had on the lid was tight like my life depended on it. Mostly because, in that moment, my life did depend on it. That was until a slip of paper caught my eyes. An unfamiliar handwriting was scribbled across the paper, but a more familiar name was at the bottom. 

Just because I’m at work doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you! Please call me if you need help with anything! 

-Spencer

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at the note. I have no idea when he would have written it and put it there. But it was the exact sort of pick-me-up I needed to stop me from making a stupid mistake. 

I stood up and shoved the paper and bottle of pills in my pocket before making my way to the door. My keys and a small stack of quarters sat on the side table beside the door, they ended up in my pocket. 

My feet moved themselves, and I soon appeared at the laundromat down the street. There were a few people there, and I could tell they 

hadn’t been there for very long. I just hope my phone call to Spencer wasn’t too long and they didn’t listen. Although, why would they listen to a random girl’s phone call? They don’t care, they won’t care. 

I quickly made my way towards the payphones, going to the furthest one to ensure my own privacy (again, they won’t care). I fished out the quarters as I sat down. It was kind of amazing how quickly I dialed Spencer’s number, and more impressive how fast I remembered it. It was the next number I remembered after my address.

The phone only dialed for a few seconds before he answered. I would have assumed he was busy with work or something. But, I guess, like his note said, even if he was busy, he was thinking about me. I’m pretty sure he was just saying that though.

“Hello, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” he spoke calmly like he didn’t know what was happening. Well, that was probably because he had no idea I was on the verge of a breakdown. “Hello?”

“It’s… It’s me… Spencer, Spencer, I…” I swallowed roughly as I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. I could feel my heart beating a million miles an hour and hear the beating in my head. It was nearly deafening to me. Being alone didn’t help the anxious feeling. “Are you home?” My voice was a light whisper, and I wondered if he even heard me ask. I don’t even know why I asked if he was at home. I knew he was at work. It’s only 3 pm. Maybe I was just hoping he’d be home, and he could come over and save the day, make me feel better somehow. How though? I’m not sure. Spencer’s a fix-it type of guy, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

“I’m still at work. But I should be home soon. Why? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with concern. It was that moment that I realized he did care about me. 

I closed my eyes and brought my hand to rest over my mouth to muffle any sobs. “Are you okay? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” He asked again when I stayed silent. I let out a deep sigh and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

“I, uh, I… I want…” I let out another deep sigh, hoping he’d know what I was getting at. “Please don’t make me say it,” I whispered and looked at the counter. My fingers rapidly tapped against the smooth surface. We both knew I had to say it and admit my defeat and the fact that I was sitting in the laundromat, with a bottle of whatever drug I had hidden in my bathroom. “Fuck,” I shouted before slamming the phone down on the hook. The other few people in the laundromat looked at me with caution in their eyes. 

“What?!” I looked at them before I tightly tugged my sweater around my body before storming out of the laundromat. The pill bottle in my pocket rattled with each step I took, and it was getting very difficult to move without wanting to take anything. Tears sprung from my eyes, blurring my vision the longer I was outside.

When I finally made it back to my apartment, I stormed to the bathroom. My reflection scared me. I almost didn’t recognize myself. It was a little horrifying, seeing myself as so unrecognizable. So, I stared at myself, my hand in my pocket, rattling the contents inside.

I scoffed before shaking my head. My hand came out with the bottle, and my eyes looked down at it. My thumb fidgeted with the lid, wanting to pop it off and pour the contents into my mouth. But, instead, I chucked it to the sink, the lid popping off and pills flying everywhere, before I ran to my bedroom.

I pulled the blankets over my body to hide from the world. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and face and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. That’s a shame too… Nearly two months clean and all I wanted to do was not exist and ruin everything.

{***}{***}{***}

I jumped awake when a very loud banging came on the front door. I looked around my room before swinging my legs off my bed and leaving the room. I dragged my body across my apartment and to the front door, where the banging hadn’t stopped.

I pulled the door open and looked up. Spencer was standing there, looking at me with a frantic expression on his face. I stared at him with wide eyes, my earlier fears and anxieties quickly returning. I had nearly forgotten about calling him too. Damn it.

“You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t take anything?” He asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath and shook my head. I stepped to the side and silently invited him inside. He stepped inside and looked back at me, before looking around my home. He was probably looking for any signs of current drug use. The only real sign was in the bathroom… Where the bathroom had a grenade of pills explode all over the place. We’ll just keep him out of there… For now...

“No, no, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I, uh... I took a nap and cried it out,”  I rubbed the underside of my nose. I pressed the door shut before turning around to look at him. He was looking at me, he still wore a panicky expression in his eyes and it made me feel sick. He doesn’t believe that I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t believe me either.

“What happened?” Spencer finally asked as I walked up to him. He opened his arms up and allowed me to hug him. I honestly didn’t want to answer him. Everything about today was already awful, and I just wanted it to be over. “Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a moment of silence. I let out a deep sigh after he pulled his arms away from me. He noted my deep breath and wrapped his arms back around me. 

I turned my head away from his chest so I could have a coherent sentence. Er, well, as coherent as it could get. “My… It’s the anniversary of… Of my mom's death,” I swallowed roughly. Spencer looked down at me before squeezing me harder. I pressed my face into his chest and shook my head. “And, I just…. Wanted to disappear. I don’t know…” I spoke, my words being muffled into his shirt. One of Spencer’s hands cradled the back of my head while the other held me closer to him. “I didn’t want to be alive at the moment,” I whispered. 

“Don’t say that,” he returned the whisper. His voice vibrated in his chest, and it felt good against my head. The way he squeezed me made me feel safer in the moment. “Please don’t ever say that again,” his voice cracked at the end. I bit my lips together as I started to cry. “Don’t even think like that,” his voice got even lower, probably because he was also crying and he was just trying to mask that fact.

“You don’t get to think that way either,” I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. He looked at me as he remembered when he was gone for a week and how he stood in front of several people with loaded weapons. 

“This isn’t about me… It’s about you,” he whispered, bringing a hand to my face. His thumb brushed away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, but that was basically useless because I couldn’t stop crying. But it felt good to cry, to be honest. “You’re still young and have so much to live for. Someone has to save you,” he looked down at me, his hand still holding my face. I feared that he was only doing it to make sure I was still here and alive. Which was a weird fear for me to have, and I suppose for him to have. 

“So are you, Spencer,” I whispered as I leaned into his touch more. He swallowed roughly as he kept his eyes on me. His eyes grew glossy the longer he stared at me. “You save everyone… But who saves you from yourself?” I furrowed my eyebrows. Spencer sighed deeply before hugging me again. 

“You do,” his whisper was hardly audible, so I was happy I heard his words. I wasn’t so sure what he meant by that. I mean, obviously, I was the thing that kept him sane while he was home. But, I don’t exactly know how I save him though. So, I was unsure as to why he told me that.  “It’s just been difficult for me recently. But, I’m working on getting better,” he spoke softly. And, I swear he said ‘for you’, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure. Even if he did say it, I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.

We stayed silent for a while, and we just stood in each other’s arms for even longer. Being in his embrace made me feel safe, and I know I said that earlier. But it’s true. I wonder if he felt the same.

“You alright?” Spencer looked up at me. I looked down at our hands and nodded. “You look like you haven’t slept in a couple of days,” he spoke, his tone was soft and gentle. I could tell that he really cared and was trying really hard not to sound mean. I didn’t mean to take it to heart the way I did, but I did.

“Not really,” I grumbled and looked down at the ground. I shrugged and quickly glanced at him. He was looking at me with an apologetic look on his face, silently telling me that he was sorry for suddenly offending me. I shrugged it off like it was nothing. It wouldn’t be the first or last time someone offended me over something so… small and unimportant. He shouldn’t be sorry, it’s my own fault. He was just asking if I was alright.

 “The last few days have been rough for me, ya know? Especially with this whole thing,” I sighed deeply and shrugged again.

“If I stay here, will you promise to get some rest,” Spencer offered, grasping both my hands. I looked at our hands with a dullness in my eyes. I was beginning to zone out because of how tired I was getting. Spencer lifted a hand and gently rubbed my shoulder. I sighed and looked down before looking up at his face.

“I’m having nightmares, and they’re really realistic… That’s why I’m losing sleep,” I whispered. Spencer looked at me before pulling me into a hug. “And they’re about everything. Me, my mom, you, drugs, dying, death… I don’t know,” I mumbled into his chest. I pressed my chin into his chest and looked up at him. Spencer looked down at me with a smile on his lips. We were really close to each other’s face, and I know he noticed that too. “I like when you spend the night,” I noted, changing the subject to something lighter, even though it was that much lighter. 

“Really,” he asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling lightly. I nodded and returned the smile. “Why’s that,”

“Because then I’m not lonely, and left with my thoughts,” I whispered as I stared at him. I’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, with their golden and greeny color. He looked at me like he saw something, but I was clueless about what he saw. “And, whenever I’m with you, I feel safe and at home, in some weird way. I’m sorry. I don’t know. The exhaustion is starting to hit me now that you pointed it out,” I sat back away from him. I pressed my hands into my face and shook my head. “I just never sleep anymore and I’m honestly used to it at this point. But I’m tired all the damn time,” 

“I’ll be here, you can rest. You don’t have to worry about anything hurting you,” he whispered before wrapping an arm around my body. I looked up at him and nodded. “Let’s lie down?” he asked softly. I nodded before going to walk to my bedroom. Before I even got the chance to step a foot away from him, Spencer picked me up and carried me. I looked at his face and furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m fully capable of walking, you know,” 

“I know,” Spencer smiled as he readjusted his hold on me. He was carrying me like a backpack, but on his front instead of his back. “But you’re tired,” he hummed as he held me tightly.

“Yeah, I am,” I looked at him with a smile. Spencer laughed at me and shook his head. Our faces were close again, closer than before. And, for some reason, I really wanted to kiss him. Which, again, is weird. He’s my best friend… And I want to fucking kiss him. It just felt like the perfect moment for us to kiss. But, I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I can’t lose the one thing that’s keeping me grounded. And he can’t lose the thing keeping him grounded.

Spencer carefully kicked my bedroom door open and walked in. He laid me down on one side of the bed before going to the other side. The blanket was pulled over both our bodies and Spencer was close to me.

“Please get some sleep,” he whispered, brushing hair away from my face. I looked up at him and nodded. “Do you want me to rub your back?” 

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” I laughed before rolling onto my stomach. “My bestest friend ever,” I hummed as he started running his hand along my back.

“Aren’t I your only friend?” Spencer joked lightly.

“Ah, not only that. My bestest friend,” I looked up at him and smiled. Spencer shook his head before brushing his fingers across my eyelids, somehow getting me to close my eyes. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. I giggled and nodded before moving closer to him. Spencer returned the laughter before wrapping an arm over me. 

{***}{***}{***}

I wrinkled my nose as I noticed a weight across my body. It wasn’t like an emotional weight like I’ve been so used to waking up to recently. No, there was something actually on top of me while I was asleep. So, when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t too surprised when I saw something on me. However, I was more surprised that it was another person. That’s right, Spencer stayed the night.

His arm was strewn across my torso, and his legs were entwined with mine. His head was resting on the same pillow as me. The way he slept so soundly and restfully made me mildly jealous. How come he gets to sleep so peacefully and I don’t?

I hope he was as peaceful as I thought. There was probably not a bad thing he was dreaming about. Unfortunately for me, I was freaking out because I dreamt that I watched my best friend being killed.

I laid back, pressing my head into the pillow before turning to look at Spencer. His nose twitched as he stirred lightly before hugging me tighter. I held my breath, worried that my breathing would wake up. But, it did. There was no need for worry. He must be having a good dream with all the humming and hugging he was doing. 

I looked at his face, mesmerized by the way he slept so soundly. The way his eyelashes pressed against his cheeks, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. His lips pouty and slightly parted. I didn’t even realize he was awake and I was staring till he said something.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling me closer before nuzzling into me more. I smiled softly as I looked up at him again. “You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” he hummed as he closed his eyes again. 

“No, I don’t,” I replied back, giving up on any chances of getting up. We might be here for a while, so there’s probably no point in getting out of bed with Spencer holding me hostage. 

“Mmm, good,” he opened his eyes and looked down at me. The tired smile on his lips made me feel warm and safe as I looked at him. “How long have you been awake?” he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“Not long,” I whispered, looking right at his eyes. He looked back at me and nodded. “How did you sleep,”

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he closed his eyes again, “Something about your bed is very comfortable,” he looked down at me and smiled. 

“Is it the bed or is it because you’re sleeping with someone to cuddle with?” I asked myself as I stared at him. “I’m happy you find my bed comfortable,” I laughed lightly. My bed is not comfortable. So I know he didn’t find it that comfortable.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, placing a hand on my cheek. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him.   

“Better than the previous night,” I shrugged a little bit. Spencer frowned as he readjusted his hold on me. “Let’s make breakfast,” I spoke out loud before sitting up, pushing his arms off me. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled as I slipped out of bed and grasped his hand to pull him out of bed. He grumbled before standing out of the bed. I smiled at him before practically skipping out of the bedroom. “I’m sure I have something!” I spoke out loud, knowing I have nothing much for breakfast.

 I went right to the kitchen, instantly eyeing up the loaf of bread that was probably a little stale. I grabbed it and opened the fridge, happy to see a carton of eggs. And with that, I made eggs in a basket. I hope that Spencer would enjoy that. Considering it was one of the only things I knew how to make.

“Coffee?” Spencer asked as he slowly walked into the kitchen. I turned around and pulled open a cabinet. A can of Folgers was sitting on the top shelf. I pouted as I stared at the can.

“I don’t think it’s good,” I muttered as I pulled the can from the shelf. “I probably had this stupid can of grounds for an embarrassingly long time,” I spoke as I looked into the can and noted that the grounds were kinda gross and kinda clumpy, causing me to pout. “No coffee,” I muttered, tossing the can to the garbage, only to miss and go over. The can landed with a clang on the ground. 

“We can always get some later,” Spencer smiled as he bent over to pick up the can. I raised my eyebrow at him as he tossed the can to the trash, without failing.

“We?” I asked, turning to watch him lean against the counter. He shrugged and smiled.

“Why not,” he shrugged again. I smiled as I looked at him. It was only then that I realized I was burning the food.

“Oh no!” I jumped around to the stove to remove the pan from the stove. “I hope you’re okay with burnt eggs and toast,” I pouted as I looked back at Spencer. He had stepped closer to the stovetop to watch me. He looked very amused with my laughter and urgency with cooking. “Don’t laugh!” I looked up at his face.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you panic over food before,” he pointed out with a smile. I looked down at the burnt food as I carefully moved it to a plate.

“I’m hungry,” I muttered before shrugging. I looked back up at Spencer and shrugged.

“That’s a good thing…” 

“Being hungry? How is that a good thing?” I scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“You have your appetite back,” Spencer pointed out before he lifted me up to set me back down on the counter. It was so effortless as he moved me. I was impressed that he barely strained to lift me (unless, he did and I was just oblivious to it).  We were at the same level now, and I was able to look him in the eye instead of at his chest. 

“Why’d you do that?” I looked at him before looking at the counter beside me. 

“So we can have an eye to eye conversation,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and looked down at the plate of two burnt eggs in a basket. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, watching as I started picking at the food. He smiled as he stood between my legs. 

“You just did,” I smiled, trying to pretend like I wasn’t suddenly anxious. Why ask someone if you can ask a question? Why not just ask the question? That’s like #1 reason why people get anxious. 

“I want to take you to the office, so you can meet everyone,” he whispered as he grabbed some food too. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You want to take me… To the FBI…” I stared at Spencer. I almost relapsed yesterday and had the worst day of the year yesterday... And, he wants to take me to… The FBI to meet his friends… I could feel bile rising from my stomach. It honestly took everything in me to hold back the sick. So, I slowly lowered my hand and food back to the counter.

“Yeah, they’re my family, and you’re my family… So, that also makes them yours,” Spencer smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him. I really didn’t want to argue his logic there, but I understand why he said that. 

“Won’t… They’ll… Spencer, that’s… I don’t think that's a good… They’ll ask how you know me,” I whispered as I looked away from him. He rested a hand on my knee and looked at my face.

“We won’t worry about that right now,” he whispered in a reassuring tone. I stared at him and shrugged.

“What’ll we tell them? When they ask, ya know?” I looked up at him. Spencer stayed silent as he looked around my kitchen. I could only assume he was thinking really hard about what we would say and how we would lie to his family. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer shrugged as he grasped my hands. I looked down at our hands and felt a frown forming. “I don’t know,” he whispered and shook his head. It was obvious for both of us that we would have a hard time being around his friends. Everything about telling a bunch of FBI agents that you’re addicted/was addicted to drugs can be a little (alright, a lot) intimidating. What are they going to do? The worst thing is they arrest me and fire Spencer. “Don’t overthink it,” he looked up at me. I nodded.

“I just won’t think about it,” I forced a smile before shrugging. Spencer gave me a knowing smile. “If they’re your family, Spencer, then they’re my family,” I sighed deeply as I looked down at my legs. I pulled my hands from his before rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. “And, I’d love to meet your family,” I sighed even deeper as I looked up at him. His face lit up a little bit with my words, and it genuinely made me feel happy. 

“You’ll love them,” he whispered before pulling me off the counter. I wrinkled my nose before looking up at him.

“I mean, I’ve already met Emily. And, she seemed definitely cool,” I laughed as I grabbed the plate. I looked at the two burnt pieces of bread. I tossed them into the trash and looked up at him. “I just hope everyone else is just as cool as she is, and even as cool as you,” I cocked my head as I looked up at him. He stayed silent before pulling me into a hug. “When would you even want me to go?” I asked once he released me. My stomach felt upside-down as I asked my stupid question. “Whenever you want,” he spoke softly. I looked down at the ground and nodded.

 “I should let you get to work. I know you don’t like being late,” I pouted, “I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course,” Spencer smiled before hugging me again.

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didn’t work: thatsonezesty13,  mediocrehamiltrash

[babbushka]

Burnt Bridges and Goodnight Kisses

Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren 

5k, cw: ANGST (severe depression, grief, mentions of the war, Flip going away to war, hurt/comfort)

(A/N: This is much more melancholy than my usual sort of writing, so I completely understand if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. No pressure at all to read, I’ve just been Going Through It, and needed to get the sads out of my system. I won’t be tagging anyone because of the subject matter, but I hope that if you read it, it’s cathartic in some way.)

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

It’s a sunny day, and Kylo’s at the shop. Elbow deep in the engine of a motorcycle for a customer that doesn’t deserve it, he huffs and puffs around a cigarette to keep the nerves in his skull from going on the fritz. They’ve got the windows open, too good of a day to be completely holed up in the garage, they’ve got the front door open too.

When a shadow falls over the engine, in the shape of a tall man with broad shoulders, Kylo doesn’t bother looking up to greet him. He’s sure it’s the customer, and he wasn’t supposed to be there until three – it’s not even a quarter past noon, who the fuck does this guy think he is?

Against his better judgement, Kylo squints into the backlit silhouette of the man before him, and his brain takes a moment to process what the fuck he’s looking at. The face is familiar, the stature even more so…but this, that couldn’t be…was it really?

“Flip?”

He’s bald, hair shaved down as close to his skull as they were able to get it. His face is bare too. It’s the first time Kylo’s ever seen Flip without his goatee. The man in front of him is Flip, but it’s wrong, it’s not the Flip he knows. Could be a twin brother for all Kylo fuckin’ knows, but that’s not his Flip.

Until this not-Flip sighs, and his shoulders sag in the way that Kylo has seen too many times for it to be refutable, and the not-Flip becomes Flip and Kylo’s stomach clenches, because what the fuck have they done to him?

“Don’t laugh.” Flip says, still standing there in front of Kylo, blocking the sunlight. He’s got his arms at his sides, hands fidgeting. His thumb rubs against the inside of his wedding ring, and it’s only then that Kylo takes in what he’s wearing.

Instead of the flannel and jeans and those cowboy boots of his, Flip’s in a matching green number with black combats on, and he’s bald and clean shaven and that means it’s really happening.

Kylo’s going to be sick.

He doesn’t laugh.

He can barely muster anything at all as he stands up, only able to choke out a pitiful, “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” Flip knows what he asking, knows that he’s asking if Flip’s leaving. There’s a hardness in Flip’s eyes that didn’t used to be there, and the room spins around Kylo.

“I’m sorry.” Is all Kylo can manage, hating himself for not being better at this. He never was good, at this, at the whole talking thing, communication. You had always teased him for that, teased the both of them.

Flip wasn’t very good at it either.

“I uh,” Flip makes an automatic move to scratch at his goatee, but then aborts the mission halfway through when he realizes that there’s nothing to scratch. Kylo wonders when he got that scar on his chin, how it happened. “I came here to say goodbye and...to ask a favor.”

“Anything.” Kylo finds himself breathing around his cigarette. Flip watches the movement, and almost without thinking, Kylo passes Flip the zippo lighter that he keeps in his pocket. Flip accepts it gratefully, lights up a camel and mulls over it in his lungs for a moment or two.

“I need you to take care of her for me.” He says quietly, on the exhale.

“Flip —” Kylo’s eyes widen, his stomach dropping. He has to brace himself, because this can’t be happening, it has to be a dream, some fucked up nightmare. He pinches himself hard on the muscle of his arm, certain that he’ll wake up with your body sandwiched between the two of them but the more he pinches himself the more frantic he starts to get.

“I mean it, Kylo.” Flip steps out of the light, walks around the bike that’s separated their bodies, puts his hands on Kylo’s shoulders and steadies him. Flip’s always been the one to steady the two of you, what the fuck is he going to do without him? “I...I need her to be okay, understand? I need to know she’ll be okay. When I’m gone.”

“You know that she won’t be.” Kylo blinks back tears, furiously denies ever letting them well up in his eyes. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, devastation or red hot anger. He’s not sure it isn’t both, as he clenches his jaw and his hands shake, “Has she seen you like this yet?”

“No.” Flip’s voice is quiet quiet quiet and it freaks Kylo the fuck out, how can a man so quiet go off to fight in such a loud war? Flip sighs, he looks tired already, exhausted. “I said goodbye before getting the cut, I didn’t want her to have this be the last memory she might have of me. Wanted her to remember me the way I always looked.”

“You’re talking like you’re not coming back.” He settles on angry, his voice starting to raise, his cheeks starting to grow hot.

“I don’t know if I will.” Flip responds with a tight pain constricting the back of his voice that has Kylo shouting, has him starting to make a scene.

“Shut the fuck up —!” Kylo throws the wrench he’s holding, throws it hard enough to shatter the one fucking window they left closed, everyone in the garage looking at him.

Flip does the thing he’s always been so good at doing, grounding Kylo. He drags Kylo into a hug, tight and firm and sturdy. Flip’s always been so fucking sturdy, steady. Kylo hates him for going away, he hates him.

“Kylo you have to listen to me. This war is fucked up, and nasty, and some boys don’t come back. Most of us won’t. I’m going to do my goddamn best to come home but there’s a chance I don’t.” Flip tries, but Kylo doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want any of this.

“No you listen to me!” Wrenching out of Flip’s grip, the tears have starting to sting hotter now, and Kylo almost wants to hit him, wants to knock some sense into him as his vision blurs around wetness on his lashes. “You’re not allowed to fucking die over there, okay? You’re not. You can’t.”

“Will you do it?” Flip closes his own eyes, still not having gotten an answer from Kylo.

Kylo’s heart begins to pound, begins to thud dangerously loud in his chest. He can’t say yes, he doesn’t want to say yes, because the second he says yes then Flip will leave. If Kylo can just keep him here, maybe if Flip misses the bus to the airport, maybe if Flip misses his flight he won’t have to go overseas and can stay.

“She doesn’t love me the way she loves you.” Kylo admits, and it’s an admission that hurts. He’s known it for a long time, he’s known it ever since the day you chose him after that boxing match all those years ago. It still fucking hurts.

“But she loves you.” Flip licks his lips, starting to get desperate in his own right, starting to grow tense when he scowls, “Don’t you love her?”

“Don’t you?” Kylo shoots back, rage coming in full force again, a dangerous and nauseating see-saw. Everyone has cleared out of the garage by now, it’s just the two of them. Somewhere in the back of Kylo’s mind he can hear the door clicking shut, everyone giving them privacy, and so Kylo starts shouting again. “She’s your fucking wife! Don’t you love her enough to not go?”

At the insinuation that Flip could be something other than completely devoted to you, he grabs Kylo by the collar of his black-tshirt, shoves him back against a wall, shoves him hard. Flip’s face is two inches away from Kylo’s, and Kylo wants to kiss him so badly that he could cry. Maybe he is crying. If he is, Flip doesn’t say anything, he only bares his teeth in a snarl.  

“Look! I’m sorry that I’m not the son of a senator who could afford to put me through college so I could sit around and fucking tinker in a garage all day. I got drafted I didn’t sign up for this fucking war, I don’t want to fucking go, and I don’t appreciate you making it sound that way.” Flip snaps, shouting back, face shaking from it.

Kylo sees it then, the terror, the sheer and utter fucking terror in Flip’s eyes. Something about that, something makes him break, and suddenly Kylo’s doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to hold himself up with the force of his own fear; because if Flip – sturdy reliable formidable Flip – is afraid, then who among them wouldn’t be?

“I’m sorry.” Kylo cries, and Flip holds him, even though Flip’s crying now too.

“Will you take care of her for me?” Flip asks again, and Kylo’s still not willing to give him the yes, not yet, just a few more minutes.

“What exactly does that mean?” Kylo demands, vision going spotty as he tries to get a grip on himself. He can feel his sinuses going, and he sniffles and sniffles and sniffles until he just fucking wipes his nose with the sleeve of his tank-top, not giving a shit anymore.

“Just...keep her safe. Make sure she’s okay, happy. Love her.” Flip says it so quietly that Kylo thinks he’s imagined it.

“Love her?” He presses, and the two of them look at each other, really looking. Kylo frowns for a minute, before he catches Flip’s real meaning, and he’s afraid he’s going to be sick all over again, this time with shame – because he’s wished for that before, wished that he could have you all to himself late late at night when he was sure no one was listening.

He never meant like this, he doesn’t want it like this.

“If she wants to.” Flip nods in confirmation, “I’m not going to make her suffer and be starved of touch just because I’m gone fighting for Uncle Sam.”

“And what happens when you come back?” Kylo emphasizes on the when, not an if, because he has to believe that Flip’s coming back. He has to, it’s going to break everyone in this fucking town if Flip doesn’t come back.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Flip decides, as the clock strikes one-o’clock. When Flip looks from the clock, back to Kylo, there’s an urgency in his voice as he asks, “Will you do it?”

That’s it, Kylo thinks, he can’t drag it out any longer.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Kylo whispers. He looks down, watches as one of his tears lands on his reflection in the mirror shine of Flip’s boots. He hates them.

With that, Flip’s done what he’s come here for, and there’s nothing left. There’s nothing left but for him to hand back the zippo lighter that Kylo had handed to him, so he does, and Kylo takes it even though his fingers have gone numb.

Flip’s walking away then, and Kylo watches him go, watches him for a minute or two before he’s sprinting out of the garage and into the sunlight, the dizzying bright yellow golden sunlight. It bathes everything in a glow that it doesn’t deserve, the world doesn’t deserve to be so beautiful when it’s taking Flip away.

Kylo sprints, a desperate last ditch effort, asking for something he doesn’t even know he needs, using a name he’s never called Flip before, shouting out, “Phil?!”

Flip stops walking, turns to face Kylo, only to get tackled by the biker in a hug so fierce and tight that it makes Flip grunt. Flip holds him back, the two men clinging to one another in broad daylight, right there in the driveway in front of the shop, out in the open, sun washing all around them.

“She’s not the only one who loves you.” Kylo whispers, face shaking, eyes flicking down to Flip’s lips for a split second.

Flip grabs Kylo by the face, a hand on his jaw, and crashes his mouth against Kylo’s. Their eyes close, and for a moment, Kylo can pretend they’re back at the big house up in the mountain, or in the little motel a town over, or even on Kylo’s own couch. But they aren’t, because you’re not here with them, and the reason you’re not here is because he’s leaving.

Something cold presses into Kylo’s palm – it’s the zippo. They break the kiss, and now there’s tears in Flip’s eyes too. Kylo can only wonder what the conversation must have been between you and him. If Flip’s crying in front of Kylo, Kylo can only imagine he had a nervous fucking breakdown in front of you.

Kylo pushes the zippo back into Flip’s hand and before he watches Flip walk down the sidewalk, headed towards a bus that will head towards a plane that will head overseas, Kylo tells him to, “Give it back to me when you come home.”

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

That had been a week ago.

He feels shitty about it, about the whole thing. He should have gone to you that same day, right after work. He should have gotten on his motorcycle and driven to your house and held you like he knows you need.

He hadn’t done any of that. Instead, when the work day had ended, and that customer picked up the fucking bike, Kylo went home. Maybe…Kylo didn’t know. Maybe he thought he could pretend everything was alright. That it was normal. Going home after work just like any other day.

When Friday comes around the calendar again, Kylo has almost forgotten that Flip’s gone. He had almost forgotten, until he started getting dressed for Shabbos dinner, and then remembered that there wasn’t going to be a Shabbos dinner with Flip for a long long time. And when he checks the calendar, he realizes it’s been a week since Flip left, and he hadn’t checked on you.

So he’s furiously ripping through the streets, half-dressed and terrified of the state he’ll find you in, blowing red lights and cutting around cars like the asshole he is, hating himself for not even so much as giving you a fucking call. The trip up the mountain is the same as it always is, but it’s different at the same time, different because he keeps expecting to see Flip pass him in that truck of his and it doesn’t happen.

The truck is under a tarp, when he finally makes it to your drive-way, the mailbox is filled with letters that you haven’t brought in. That’s not a good sign, none of this is a good sign.

There’s leaves on the porch, they crunch under Kylo’s heavy footfalls as he makes his way up to the front door. Knocking once, twice, three times in the little pattern that’s all his, Kylo tries not to chew his lip until it bleeds.

“Sweets? it’s me. Can I come in?” Kylo stands outside the front door, tries jiggling the handle. It’s locked, no give.

Kylo knocks again, this time a little harder, even goes so far as to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N?” He calls, this time a little louder.

Still no answer from you, and he begins to panic. Your car is in the driveway so he knows that you should be home, you should be. You didn’t like to go for walks by yourself in the woods, always worried about mountain lions, always teased Flip that one day he was going to get eaten. They used to tease you for your fears. Kylo wonders if Flip getting drafted had ever been one of them.

Kylo breaks into the house, breaks the window on the side of the house that he knows leads into the living room. He doesn’t break the glass, just the latch that keeps it locked, and manages to shove himself through the small square opening, crawling through the space headfirst, toppling onto his chest as he pushes himself into the living room.

“Fuck.” He sucks in a breath when he sees how much of a mess the place has become.

It looks like everything that was once on a bookshelf, table, credenza, desk or counter has been shoved to the floor. There’s boxes all around the living room, stacks and stacks of case files, of clothing. It smells like camels, there’s one smoldering still in a little ashtray on the coffee table. It doesn’t look like it’s been smoked once, just simply left to burn steadily, the ash long and undisturbed.

You’re on the couch, face tucked against the cushions, facing away from him. Despite it being bright outside, the living room is pitch black, all the shades drawn.

“Oh sweetheart.” Kylo sighs softly, as he very gently so as to not scare you, sits down on the floor next to the couch.

He switches on the little lamp on the side table, and you wince against the light, curling in on yourself. Kylo begins to rub soothing circles to your side, and you let out a shuddering sob, something wordless that catches in your throat. Kylo hates himself for not coming to see you sooner, he wonders how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve been on the couch like this.

“I know baby, I know. I’m here.” Kylo whispers, before trying to coax you up. It’s telling that you let yourself be manhandled without much resistance, too out of it to care. It breaks Kylo’s heart, he’s never seen you like this, not even when you were sitting by his bedside in the hospital after the big crash. A stab of guilt rings through him; you had sat by his bedside every night for a month then, and it had been a full week since he had even called you. “Baby we gotta get you put together, okay? C’mon.”

Kylo swallows the guilt, and stands, guiding you up up up with him. The moment you’re on your two feet, your arms cling to Kylo, your face shoving itself into his neck. Kylo just holds you, kisses the top of your head, tries not to wrinkle his nose at how your hair is in desperate need of a wash.

“I — what day is it?” You shiver around a hiccupped sob, red hot sorrow branding his throat.

“Friday.” Kylo responds, wondering what day you think it is.

“Oh, shit.” Is all you say, and that’s all that Kylo needs to hear.

“C’mon, we’re going to shower.” He tells you, but when you try and take a step forward it’s hard for you to stand up without his help. He makes the mistake of not supporting your weight and you go teetering over to the side, stumbling out from under yourself like you’ve forgotten how to use your legs. Kylo catches you, holds you close close close, deciding, “Fuck — okay, bathtub instead.”

You sit in the dark, in the bathroom. Kylo goes to turn the light on but you panic and stop his hand, not wanting him to see you, the state of you. You don’t say it, but Kylo thinks you’re more afraid of you seeing yourself. He doesn’t say it either, but the both of you know it. Kylo keeps the light off.

He sits behind you in the bathtub, your face away from him, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. You brush your teeth, and Kylo doesn’t even care when you spit the toothpaste out.

Carefully, gently, he washes your hair, uses all the products you’re too sad to even think about right now. Carefully, gently, he listens to your sighs as he washes your back, your arms and legs, soapy hands sudsing up the water. Carefully, gently, he cradles your body as you lean back against him, his legs bracketing your sides.

He tries not to scream.

You try too, but you fail.

He’s got his arms wrapped around your chest as your head thunks back against his shoulder and you wail wail wail. Your body shakes and trembles until you have no more tears, until the water’s run cold, until you let out a sigh that sounds like you’re done. Kylo unplugs the drain.

The two of you sit in the tub for a long time still, long after the tub has drained. You’re both too scared to stand, unsure if your knees will hold you up.

Kylo doesn’t know how much later it is when the two of you get up and get dressed. Kylo ties the sash of your robe tight enough but not too tight. He puts himself in a pair of sleep clothes that he’s left at your house for impromptu sleepovers like this, even though this isn’t nearly as happy of an occasion as the sleepovers usually are.

When the two of you are dressed, he takes you by the hand to your bed, tucks you in. It’s bright, in the bedroom, the late afternoon sun dipping behind the mountains. It’s golden hour, Kylo realizes, and once again everything is too bright. In the sunlight your face looks…awful. You look like you’ve been crying for a week straight, and Kylo knows it’s because you have been.

Your stomach rumbles, and you look sheepish about it, which worries Kylo. Everything about this worries Kylo.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” He asks, not accusatory, just concerned.

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, voice just barely above a whisper. Your hair is wet, and in the moonlight, he can see your eyes shining.

Your stomach growls again.

“I’m going to order something from the deli.” Kylo announces, and you nod, a small good sign.

Kylo knows your order like the back of his hand, always brings you over a big hero when he passes the deli, likes to bring you and Flip things. It’s only after he hangs the phone up that he realizes he ordered Flip’s hero too, wonders what the fuck he’s going to do with that.

Flip’s sandwich has extra pickles.

Neither of you like pickles.  

You burst into tears then, because you’ve just realized it too, and your face is buried in your hands now, and Kylo feels like he’s going to scream. Maybe he does, this time. Maybe he takes one of the pillows on Flip’s side of the bed and shoves his face into it and screams. He doesn’t know, he’s so out of his fucking depth.

Not for the first time, shame bubbles up inside Kylo’s chest. He remembers an argument that he had once had with Flip about his late undercover nights, how you had been so worried about the danger he puts himself into when he goes out like that. Kylo remembers shouting red in the face, veins popping out of his neck, that if you had picked Kylo, if you had been Kylo’s girl instead, if you had married Kylo instead, then maybe you wouldn’t be so worried all the time.

He remembers Flip throwing it back in his face that you hadn’t. You hadn’t picked him, and Kylo had to deal with it. Kylo had been bitter for a long time about that, he thinks. He’s not so sure now though, he’s not sure now what would have happened. There isn’t a man alive who loves you more than Flip, and not a woman who loves Flip more than you. Kylo sees that now.

You had picked Flip, and now Flip is gone, and Kylo is filled with shame, and you’re miserable.

“I’m sorry.” You’re crying crying crying, and Kylo doesn’t even know what you could possibly be sorry for, when all of this is his fault.

“Don’t you dare,” Kylo shakes his head, pulls you against his body because you’re shivering, and you’ve always teased Kylo for being so warm. “Hey, hey look at me. Don’t you dare apologize.”  

“I just miss him so much.” There’s a tremor in your voice, and your pitch goes higher and higher that way it does when you’re starting to spiral, as you shake harder and harder, “He’s out there alone, and god knows what he’s doing, if he’s okay, if he’s going to come back — fuck what the fuck do we do if he doesn’t come back? How do we live without him?”

“He’s okay.” Kylo cuts you off, because that’s a line of thinking he hasn’t even let himself go down yet, and he can’t deal with that, not right now. So instead he wills it, he puts it out into the universe, “I promise. You have to breathe, stop holding your breath.”

You shudder out a breath, not realizing you’d been holding it until he said something.

“You can’t know that.” Your chin wobbles, and Kylo envelops you, smothers you with love. He’s not sure it’s the right thing to do, but he hopes that if he just…if he just holds you tight enough, it’ll be okay.

“I do though, I do know. I promise you, he’s going to come back. I’ll go over there and get him myself, if I have to.” Kylo tries to joke, but it falls flat.

You’ve stopped crying, at the very least.

Kylo doesn’t let himself think about how he’s going to keep this up for as long as he might have to. It’s only been a week, but what happens when you’re still sad a year from now? What happens when Flip isn’t back in two? What happens if he really doesn’t come back at all? How do you move on when your entire world is built around the one person you love more than anything?

Kylo doesn’t have you the same way that Flip gets to have you, but at least Kylo gets to have you in some way. At least you weren’t taken from him and put on a plane, taken far away, not knowing if you’ll ever return. How does anyone ever recover from that?

They don’t, he supposes.

But he can’t think about that that, not now. Especially because you’re turned towards him, and for the first time Kylo sees something other than misery in your eyes.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” You ask, voice soft, apprehensive and hopeful.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.” Kylo promises, knowing that at the very least this is one promise he can keep.

“Will you kiss me?” You whisper, and Kylo’s heart breaks. You never used to ask before, would just pucker your pretty lips and smile at him and he’d give you one without thinking.

You pucker your pretty lips now, but there’s no smile, and Kylo’s heart breaks. He presses his lips to yours, and the sigh that pours out from your chest has Kylo guilty all over again – he knows for a fact that Flip kisses you at least a dozen times a day, and because Flip was gone, because Kylo was too terrified to do anything about it, you’d gone a whole week without them.

The kiss isn’t heated in a passionate sense, it’s longing, yearning. Kylo’s mouth opens and his tongue slides against yours, tastes the minty toothpaste that lingers there. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Kylo wraps his arms around your middle, and you kiss and kiss and kiss one another, until your breathing evens out and you’re no longer taking those shuddering shivering gasping breaths.

“He asked me to, you know…” Kylo smears the words against your mouth, smudges them with his lips, making them all fuzzy.

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing what he means.

“Yeah. If you want.” Kylo swallows around a lump in his throat, unsure of whether he wants you to want it or not.

“I don’t think I do.” You say, hushed hushed hushed like he can hear you, like someone is listening, “It doesn’t feel right without him.”

“I know. I just thought I’d mention it.” Kylo finds himself relieved, he doesn’t know why. He does, but he doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to say how much he misses Flip too.  

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and Kylo shakes his head, telling you not to be with another small kiss. This one feels closer to normal, and even though there’s food on the way, you’re starting to fall asleep. Kylo wonders if you’d been awake this whole time, waiting and waiting for a goodnight kiss. Your grip on him begins to loosen as you mumble out, “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.” He promises, and this too is another one he can keep.

He doesn’t know how many others there will be, but he knows that at the very least, this is one that he can keep. You fall asleep in his arms, your hair on the pillow, shining in the last of the sunlight. Kylo lets one of his big scarred tattooed hands rub against your back, and he begins to hum out a little tune. Something soft, gentle under his breath, hoping that wherever you are in dreamland, the music will soothe you.

And if, when the delivery guy leaves the food out on the porch some time later, when Kylo extracts himself from your arms to bring the heroes inside and pay the kid, if he brings Flip’s hero into the kitchen and eats it so he can start getting used to the taste of pickles so that you’ll have someone to give yours to, then that’s his business.

And if, when he strikes up a cigarette and finds that he’s missing his zippo, wishing he had it back again, wishing he had Flip back again, wishing and wishing and wishing, wishing so hard that you must hear it upstairs because you come down to hold his hand and rest your head on his shoulder as he lets big fat tears slip down his cheeks, well.

Kylo decides he’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

[tsuki-sennin]

Uekara takakitsukeru rakuin Aw yeah!

You'll never run from run from cheap na ranking!

Image senko regulation

Sokode nani o handan?! Soko ni nani ga?! Aw yeah! So uh... THE FULL VERSION OF LIVEDEVIL IS ABSOLUTELY THE SOUND I'M ENDING 2021 ON. Shit's running circles around me! I hope you all had a lovely holiday season! I've been busy these past couple days for pretty obvious reasons, and also playing Pokémon Brilliant Diamond. A bit too faithful a remake, but otherwise a very fun nostalgia trip! Now, back to your regularly scheduled Spoilers, I guess...

-Oh yeah, Ikki destroyed the giant cyst UFO that was apparently Gifu.

-Man, I have to hand it to Kinoshita. He really knows how to make Olteca as punchable as possible.

-Speaking of villainous squid guys, as a minor addendum for a previous entry in this series of liveblogs, I recently skimmed through the original series again, and I'd like to retract my comment about Dr. Shinigami being "some guy", because he's honestly such a great villain who deserves to be homaged with the (apparent as of this writing) acting main antagonist of this season. He's charming, intimidating, and the events leading up to his death is a spectacular bit of early Rider storytelling. While I maintain that Colonel Zol is infinitely more evil than Shinigami, I found him kinda underwhelming, since he doesn't really bounce off of anyone not named Taki or Hayato all that much. That's kinda my problem with a lot of the "executive" villains in the franchise's early days, they don't feel all that connected as villains.

-Now, to bring myself fifty years forward in time back to the present and away from that tangent, I'd like to say that Julio's a pretty keen-o character. It's easy to see him as only a sadistic thug like Zooous or Rook or Kitazaki before him, but he was a pretty fun and charming presence all through Revice's first quarter. His devotion to Aguilera gives him a lot more definition than I thought it would, and gives him a lot of dramatic weight. ...SO KICK SQUID MAN'S ASS WOLF BOY DO IT DO IT DO IT

-You say she "saved" you, huh buddy? Given what I know about the Deadmans' practices, I can't help but wonder if they manipulated those events too.

-OH FUUUUUCK AGUILERA'S TRANSFORMING

-Queen Bee! I was kinda hoping she'd be a snake or an eagle, but this fits well too! The first female Rider monster was a bee, after all.

-Damn, girl! You punch good!

-Conglaturation!!! You have completed a great game. And prooved the justice of our culture! Now go and rest our heroes!

-At least we won one thing today.

-Oh no, we're bringing the Gifu vagina statue back?

-I can only assume smashing it is a horrible idea, so I think maybe we should just lock it the fuck up.

-I guess even if Kudou was a bastard, he was still a human being. Ironically, he got much swifter and fairer justice from the Igarashi siblings than he likely ever witnessed in court, so I guess that's fittingly tragic. I have no such nuanced thoughts for Amahiko though, he's just a straight up creep and he had what was coming to him.

-P... Papa Jeanne-

-C'mon Hiromicchi, get this man to a doctor!

-This show is so fucking good you guys oh my god

-So, it doesn't seem like Aguilera's using the Vistamp to transform between Queen Bee and human form. That... brings up a lot of questions. Are Vistamps even necessary for Aguilera to transform?

-Since Julio says "Gifu-sama is safe" and that Aguilera says that having her human form is enough, does this mean Giftex transformations are permanent?

-Seems like she's out for blood now.

-At least Julio respects her privacy.

-I can understand having a poor image of your own body and wanting to change that, but I don't think identity theft is the way to go about it.

-OH THAT'S A WHOLEASS HEARTBEAT THAT'S CREEPY

-THAT'S FROM THE OPENING

-M e a t

-Back pain sucks, don't joke about it :c /lh

-Oh, here's the Sussy Baka himself! ...I'm just gonna end up calling him that all the time, since I don't think we're ever gonna get a name for him aside from Wakabayashi or Chameleon.

-Man, instantly finding good deals like that, I wish I had that kinda power.

-Oh yep, immediately trying something stupid.

-Ikki-nii, now you're *really* gonna have to pay for that!

-Man, having your one trick exposed like that must suck lmao

-Wow, Hiromicchi's the real MVP. We stan.

-Kick that bitch to the curb, kids!

-OH? IS THIS FINALLY OUR FIRST INSERT SONG!?

-OH FUCK YEAH

-This is some killer choreography btw. I don't really talk about a lot of the technicals, but the shot composition, the impacts, the creative use of our abilities, it's just... chef's kiss.

-DON'T HIT THE SNEK SHE IS FRIEND

-YOU TRIED TO EAT HER DON'T BE SO SURPRISED

-LIVE JACKAL YESSSSS GAMER TIME

-God, I LOVE THIS GODDAMN SHOW SO MUCH

-Aw c'mon, you ain't gonna pay attention to that awesome ice egg shield with the beautiful color palette? You have no eye for detail, I swear...

-Fuck man, he knows exactly what Ikki was hoping to do.

-...that's who he was, huh? He's not some big shot lawyer man or respected counselor guy or cult leader, or a government commander... he was just some guy who got more power than he deserved.

-Well, Ikki did kinda rob him of revenge, so I can't really blame him for being out of it. ...oh, he's sick, that's not nice :(

-Demons Die, I Riot. Just throwing that out there.

-Hey, Georgie, what're ya doin' with that Vistamp? I don't think I've seen that one before, it looks important.

-...WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

-Oh

-I guess "what the fuck ISN'T that is a bit more appropriate".

-WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE

-Earlier in this very episode, we've established that the Gifu effigy has a heartbeat, and since Papa has no heart, then THAT MEANS-

-That's some good meat right there, I want it so bad...

-Oh yeah, the Ushijima family. I forgot they were characters for a moment.

-Thaaaaaat's creepy.

-Oh c'mon Sakura, don't do it!

-Well... our Vistamp 50 collection is complete, I guess!

-Oh boy, preview! ...I mean, I kinda figured his real name wasn't Julio, so that's not especially "trailer worthy", but THAT AGITO REVI THO-

-IS THAT BARID GENOME VICE TOO???? Is George done being a little bitch (affectionate)?

-Ok, I did a little research, and apparently that's the Volcano Rex Genome for Revi. It looks very cool, I really wanna see it in action soon.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

NSFW (whole alphabet) for Captain Rex? 🥺🥺

A/N: Hell yes! Sorry this took so long for me to get to. I love Rex so much, words cannot describe. I hope to do my favorite Captain justice. And as a reminder, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!! These take just as much time as drabbles and the tags hate me.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Can you say, soft? Because Rex is soft. He’ll do whatever you ask; run a bath, rub your sore muscles, hold you close, whatever you want.  He is the sweetest man after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Rex honestly has a hard time picking his favorite part about you.  His first instinct is to say your legs, but then he thinks about it and say the part where your legs meet your back.  Actually, that whole area.  That, and above it...

For himself, Rex is actually really proud of his back.  You’ve playfully giving him a few wolf whistles when you’ve seen him doing pull ups without a shirt on.  He knows he’s strong and if the way your nails dig into his back when he takes you against a wall is any indication; you appreciate his strength too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He always ends up leaving a mess whenever he cums.  From lack of experience, he hasn’t quite got the timing down on pulling out and so it often spills half inside you, some on your skin and some on the mattress.  There are times you wonder if he does it on purpose. There have been a few times he openly moaned at the sight of his cum dripping down your inner thigh.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He does cum in a mess on purpose. He apologizes every time and helps clean you up.  However, that doesn’t stop him from getting hard all over again at the sight of you blissed out of your mind and stained with his cum.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We’re going to say none before you.  Like seriously.  I don’t know where is Dom-Captain Rex came from in the fandom, but that is not this man’s M.O.  His devotion is 110% to the GAR and we see how awkward he gets in social situations outside anything having to do with the army or his brothers.

So, yeah, Captain Rex is a virgin the first time you have sex.  You cannot convince me otherwise.  Luckily for you, he’s also a man who learns and adapts quickly. ;)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You on your back with your legs draped over his arms as he pounds into you.  He gets a perfect view of everything; your bouncing tits, your eyes, the way his cock slides in and out of you, plus the option to grab hold of the headboards and really go to down.

A close second is pinning your back against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. He loves the feeling of your nails down his back as he fucks up into you.  And gravity does the work for him when he pulls out and sees his cum going down your leg.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It takes him a while to loosen up in bed.  When you guys first start having sex it’s like he’s on a recon mission; what works, what doesn’t, testing his own endurance as well as yours, that kind of thing.  It’s only when he gets a full inventory on how to make you feel good as well as himself does he start cracking jokes. It’s not the norm, but it reaches about 30%.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t really do much down there until he meets you, besides keeping it clean.  After you guys start sleeping together, he starts to trim it down and experiment a bit.  He even shaved all the hair off at one point, but you assured him he didn’t need to.

Also, he had dark hair down there.  No, he is not bleaching his pubic hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Rex is focused on you the entire time.  He wants you to know he’s paying attention to you and listening to your wants and needs.  It’s more a sliding scale of how emotional it can get, often depending on how much of his own emotion and tension he’s keeping bottled up.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s done it plenty of times before he met you and continues to do it after you get together; his fantasies now just focus on you and you exclusively. Privacy is an issue in the GAR so often he has to wait late at night to get the showers to himself.  However, he prefers it when he gets a chance to take the time alone in his own bed. It’s really the best way he knows to fully relax without you there beside him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Rex is still exploring his kinks, but he’s finding he gets a certain thrill out of cum play.  Eating you out with his cum still in your pussy is not something he’d ever thought he’d enjoy until one night he couldn’t help himself and ended up cumming on the mattress while you came again on his tongue.

And, I’m just going to put this headcanon to bed. CAPTAIN REX IS NOT A DOM, HE IS A SWITCH!!!

Yes, he likes it when you call him Captain or Sir in bed.  Yes, he likes giving you orders and having you obey them to the letter.  But if you’re telling me he doesn’t get off to the idea of you riding his face and using his body in any way you choose to find your own pleasure; then you and I are not talking abut the same character.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your apartment  Like I said, privacy is an issue on more GAR ships. The Clones have quarters on Coruscant, but it lacks the personality of your place, not to mention you have thicker walls.  It also means he’s off duty and doesn’t have to be worried of being call to the bridge at any given moment.  He can fully relax and focus on you and himself.

Now when it comes to where in your apartment, literally anywhere to a flat surface. He’s not picky.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You calling him “sir” or “captian” in public.  To give him some credit, it’s not only the words, so much as how you say them.  If you say, “yes, sir” like you’re out of breath or worse, if you look up at him through heavy eyelids, he’s going to need a minute to straighten himself out.

There’s also this spot just on the edge of his hairline on his neck that melts him.  All you have to do is brush that spot with your finger or your lips and he’s going to groan.

And cliche, but I have to say it; any time he sees you kick droid ass or even just verbally destroy somebody in a debate.  Your his cyar’ika and he’s going to let you do whatever you want to him that night.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Water play.  He found it by accident when researching different stuff to try.  He thought it would be like shower sex and it’s...not.  The moment he realized what it was he was disgusted and told you immediately that was going on the “no” list.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Split 50/50 between preferring to give or receive. God knows how many times he’s gotten himself off to the image of your lips wrapped around his cock.  He loves how your fingers dig into his thighs as you take him all the way into your mouth.  And seeing cum drip down your lip is enough to get him hard again in seconds.

On the other hand having your perfect thighs wrapped around his head as you fuck is face is as close to heaven as he can imagine. He can stay inbetween your legs for hours reveling in your taste and the way your tremble around him every time he makes you cum. His current record is making you cum three times in the row with just his tongue and fingers before you pushed him away just so you could breath.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can do either or, but he leans more on the rough side. No matter how slow he might start, by the end he’s gripping your thighs like a vice and pounding into your cunt as he loses all sense of control.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Only if he knows he’ll get to have you all to himself later that night.  He thinks of quickies as just a preview of what’s the come, rather than a done deal. 

That all being said, he’s not keen on them.  For one, he doesn’t want to risk getting caught. Two, he would never, ever, have a quickie while on duty.  Which leads to three, if he’s already off duty he might as well take you to bed right now.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like I’ve said, Rex lacks a lot of experience, but he’s adaptable and a fast learner. You guys have a list of different things you want to try and are slowly working your way down, checking what you like and crossing out ones you don’t.

The only thing he won’t risk is getting caught in the act.  For one, he would never hear the end of it from the rest of the 501st.  And second, he thinks it would reflex negatively, not only on himself as a solider but on the rest of the GAR.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As a genetically enhanced soldier, his stamina is insane. Granted, it takes him a while to hold off his own orgasm the first few times you have sex.  But, his recovery time is amazing.

He’s good for about three rounds on an average night and once he gets the hang of things, he can make those three rounds last hours.

Your current record is him cumming five times in one night while you lost count once you reached the double digits.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Captain Rex would not be caught dead having any toys with him.  Not in his bunk, not in his apartment on Coruscant, not anywhere.  He cannot imagine how he’d explain that to anyone if they found out.

However, you have a perfectly nice little collection at your apartment.  You guys have been experimenting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He tries, but he’s not good at it. When he gets into his, “Captain” mode, he does like the idea of keeping you on the edge, but it never lasts.  As soon as you buck your lips and the first little, “please” leaves your lips, he’s done. He has to give you everything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not quiet, but he’s not going to scare the neighbors.  He’s a talker, surprisingly.  It’s like whatever filter he has as a commander just slips away the moment he buries himself inside you. He praises how you feel.  He mumbles curses and promises until they turn into delirious grunts and groans just before he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Everyone in the 501st knows you guys are fucking the moment you start, even if Rex never tells anyone anything.  He is terrible at hiding his feelings toward you.  Add that to the fact both Fives and Jesse noticed the not so subtle hickies all over his body, and it’s not hard to guess where he got them from.

Rex denies it whenever it’s brought up, but everyone knows the truth.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; EVERY SINGLE CLONE IS HUNG WITH A THICK EIGHT INCH DICK! And since all of them don’t really have a frame of reference as to what’s “big” or not, they all assume they’re average size (at least until they get someone in bed).

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not crazy high, but after he meets you it’s like his sex drive just triggered into over drive. It could also be because you guys are apart so often.  But, either way you’re having sex almost every night you’re together.  Maybe after the war things will calm down, but not before then.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost as soon as you guys finally decide to call it a night.  He’s fallen asleep a few times while in the bathtub with you, is all I’m saying.