#I'm supposed to be over the moon with Din

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Sarlacc: * Swallows Boba Fett * Me: *waits my turn*

[haruchi-slit]

JEALOUS, JEALOUS GIRL!

pairing: true form! sukuna x concubine! reader | synopsis: the king brings a girl and it just makes his favorite so jealous! | warnings: double penetration, sukuna 2pps, creampie (?), teasing, switch, lots of kissing, m receiving (blow job), biting (slight?), porn with plot (?), not proof read properly! chi-list

"I'm a jealous jealous jealous girl, if i can't have you baby, no one else in this world can."

you were trapped in this endless circles of boredom since the king left for a trip to China to meet its emperor, it's been months since he left and you missed him so much, you were left with uraume, they're fine to be with, but they're too busy to talk to you, too busy to make small talks. you were completely bored to death, until one day uraume happily announced that the king is coming back, "really he is?" you asked happily shaking uraume's shoulders. your endless circles of boredom will finally come to an end!

"yes, how many times would i have to repeat it for you?" uraume responds with a frown, removing your hands from them.

you were over the moon! you twirled around like you were a teenager getting her allowance

"the kinggg's finally baackk~" you hummed skipping towards your room.

evening rolls by faster than light, you heard the temples heavy doors creeping open, and the king's sorcerer murmuring "Sukunaa!" you yelp, running carelessly to the main entrance. you saw sukuna being escorted by the gaurds, sorceres and servants, you and uraume bowed your heads as soon as you saw him after passing the two of you, you looked up, with your eyes shining as bright as the northern star, smiling from ear to ear. until, you noticed a unfamiliar face, walking behind sukuna a woman who's about your height, brunette hair tickling down her shoulders, wearing a black and red kimono just like yours, but yours were adorned with gold roses and the red fabrics of your kimono were much more bolder than hers, your smile completely dropped as you saw sukuna's hand resting on her head, ruffling her hair, and she seems to love it, your eyebrows were quick to frown as you saw this gesture, you glared at sukuna and the girl with full of...jealousy. you knew that you weren't in the place to feel this, but still.

you learned that her name was qika, of course from uraume, they know everything about the lord's activities. qika is from China, she used to be the emperor's main whore, but the emperor gifted her to sukuna, because she is the only one who knows how to speak Japanese.

"it's pronounced as: i-ka" uraume says, carrying scrolls full of jujutsu in their hands, "anyways, why are you asking and aren't you supposed to be at the dinning room now?"

you rolled your eyes "I don't want to.." you clicked your tongue, "the lord's gonna be upset if you're-" "i do not care uraume" they raised a brow hearing you raise your voice, "are you jealous?" you rolled your eyes and walked out, striding straight to your bedroom, you didn't ate dinner that night you were too upset that the lord brought a concubine even though he could've just declined the offer.

"bullshit" you sighed softly laying in your bed, as you realized that the lord hasn't called you to get to his chambers. you let out a heavy, heavy breath as you rolled over to the other side of your bed, grabbing the soft pillow close to your chest hugging it tightly with a sour look in your face, when you were about to fall asleep, you heard lewd moans and squelchs from the other room, sukuna's room; your eyes shot open as soon as you heard it, 'fuckkk!', you could only thought to yourself as you sit up leaning on your bed's headboard, while you hear them fucking non-stop. "aaa my-my lord!" the woman yelps, you could only roll your eyes and do nothing about it,

you clicked your tongue; pulling your blanket on top of your body, then falling asleep eventually.

after that you were avoiding him the next day, depriving him even from your glance and presence always occupying your schedule with tons of other activities, you were lonely and fucking jealous, as he spends time with his "new favorite concubine", you could only clench your fist and frown your eyebrows, giving qika and sukuna dirty looks, sometimes even mocking qika for her forced voice while working with uraume "awh thaynk kyu my lowrd" you cursed under your breath, "did you said something?" uraume inquired "huh? no what did i say?" you respond with a defensive tone.

sukuna noticed that you were avoiding him. avoiding him in the hallways, dinning room, throne room literally every where, not batting a care for his presence. though, even if you were a brat, he let's you slide, you're still his favorite after all.

"let's see how long that brat's gonna take it. " he thought to himself. and boy oh boy he didn't expect to see you this fucking desperate. maybe he should make you jealous more often.

you're now on top of his lap, with his half naked body, his broad muscles flexing, as you stare at him intently, you just wanna smack that stupidly handsome smirk he has on his face, for fuck's sake you to do that immediately.

"trying to top me? hah...go on princess, I'd like to see you fail, yeah?" he chuckles leaning on the bed's headboard, as you stare at him with lust and desperation in your eyes, he laughed, "did you heard me and that girl yesterday, are you jealous?", he doesn't even know her name... "were you thinking of me while you were fucking her?" you spat back, grinding on his clothed shaft, he paused, in fact, he was thinking of you- , you glide the tips of your fingers on his markings tracing it gracefully you tilted your head to your left, "I'll take that as a yes. can she take you whole? can she grip your needy cock like i do?", you spoke. "cocky aren't you?" he grunts in respond while clenching his jaw, his lower set of hands creeped to your hips, squeezing it like it depends on his life, you continued to tease him, peppering his chest with sweet kisses, he threw his head back as your kisses travelled down to the mouth on his belly, you gave him a quick kiss as you proceed to his clothed cocks, you rubbed his cock slowly with his undergarment on, you held his clothed cocks on your tiny hands while locating the tip of his cocks, he lets out another grunt, placing one of his upper set of arms on your back as the other covered his face, he might not last long, letting you top him, but he loved seeing you on top of him with your alluring demeanor and dominant side it's just different, he threw his head back once more as you took one of his clothed cock into your mouth, as you circled the tip of the other cock with your thumb.

the king lets out heavy, silent grunts as you gave him an unbearable pleasure- to make it worst the fabric on his dick gave so much friction, enough for him to cum sooner, even though he tried his best to deny his climax, he failed miserably as he paints your pretty mouth with his thick cum, while his other cock spurted cum all over his mattress and yakuta, you snickred "what a mess" you glanced at sukuna with flushed face with his hand on top of his lips "bet she can't do that huh?" , his hands still lingering on your body, you smirked before untying your kimono, letting it pool down on the mattress, "you're such a fucking tease aren't you?" he grumbled, while you took his soaked yakuta off his body throwing it across the room, his cock is still hard, even after cumming, "f-fuck" he murmurs as you aligned his cock on your entrance, while you align his other cock on your ass, "you sure you can take all of me?" he let's out a whimpy chuckle, cupping your waist with his large hands, you didn't respond, you were too focused on proving him wrong and that you're better than qika. she was never better than you. you slowly put his cocks in you, your lips gapped as you take him whole, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you whimpered, your gummy walls swallowing him instantly as you collide your hips to his taking him full, from base to tip sukuna swore you almost made him whimper, you paused for a moment before moving your hips- you placed your hands on his chest as you bounced lightly on his cock, with every bounce sukuna tries his hardest to not let a single whimper out off his mouth, he bit his lips so hard it started to bleed, you watched his blood drip down to his chin, you sucked your lips between your teeth before licking sukuna's blood and latcing your lips to his, before letting out a giggle "ooo c'mon cursed king, don't hide those pretty moans, pleasee. for me?" you teased "s-shut up" he babbled as his hands support your hips from bouncing, you'd giggle on his grumped scowl while he throws his head back on the headboard, you could feel his pre-cum dripping from your pussy mixed with your arousal. you continued to bounce on his dick, you'd whimper every time his dick hits your g-spot you nuzzled on the crook of his neck bitting it, out of pleasure, while his cocks penetrate your tight holes...you can feel your climax brewing in your adomen, your bounce getting sloppier as your cunt drip uncontrollably, "hah-mm fuckk..!" you moan as you feel your climax creeping closer, sukuna's cocks throbs with every whimper that came out off your mouth. "fucking woman," sukuna growled, before pinning you down to the mattress "i should make you jealous more often, huh? "he adds putting you in a missionary before tucking your hair to the side so he could see your beautiful face, "you're so fuckin' gorgeous when your jealous, turns m-me on s-so damn much" sukuna grunts without missing a beat as he feels his climax near.

your gummy walls sucking him in with every thrust, your nails scratching his biceps and back, knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets of the mattress, while sukuna buries his cocks in you- "mfmmgh-" you whined before cumming all over his cocks-

"that's right, fucking cum on my cocks...h-hah-"

sukuna moans softly before nuzzling to the crevice of your boobs, snapping his hips to yours once more before reaching his climax, you could feel his cum oozing out off your pussy and ass, the both of you were catching breaths while sukuna's cocks is still intact, he does his final thrust fucking back the cum that oozed out off your cunt and ass, your toes curled while your eyes rolled to the depths of your skull, goodness...

"I'm getting rid of that girl, I'll get uraume to get rid of her... jealous brat."

a/n: idk lmaoo... Don't ask me why i named the other concubine "qika" i just want it to be different and unique haha, i kinda have a neutral feeling abt this cause whenever i proof read it, it sounds cringe and yuckie I'm not good at writing... anyways does anyone wants to be my anon/mutual?

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

CONGRATS ON HITTING 1K, you deserve all the love you're getting and more <3333 for your celebration could i get a thousand stitches with bill? Your writing of him has been completely brilliant, i love the way you characterise him <333

hi my darling!!! thank you much!! I'm so grateful you're here and I hope you enjoy 🫶

1000 stitches | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x reader

cw: MDNI 18+, injuries and blood, near-death experience, early stages of werewolf!Bill , love confessions

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

The full moon lingered at the edge of the sky, obstinate in its refusal to dip below the trees. You'd begged Bill not to go out while the moon hung bloated in the sky, an unusual, ominous shade of red.

But he'd gone anyways. Which was fair, you supposed; he wasn't yours to order about. You weren't a couple, despite the simmering tension between you, heightened by the deep connection you’d forged through over a decade of friendship and work and suffering and joy.

You'd loved him all your life, and he wouldn't be Bill Weasley, the man that held your heart hostage, if he didn't plunge headlong into danger, especially where his family was concerned.

Always eager for the hunt.

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

“They're right behind us—Molly, you must—Molly listen to me,” Remus snapped, shaking her gently. “Ron and Ginny are fine, but Bill—Greyback got a hold of him.”

You clutched the rusted porch railing of the safe house, limbs going numb as the blood drained from your brain.

“He's alive, but barely,” Remus continued, keeping Molly upright by sheer force of will. “And we don't know if he was—”

“Bitten,” you finished, your voice little more than a whimper. Remus looked up at you, nodding solemnly.

He looked like he was going to say something further, when the others suddenly apparated into the clearing. Ginny ran straight into the house, shouting for the medic assigned to the safe house. Ron and Neville held a body between them, the figure limp as a freshly killed stag and twice as bloody.

Bill.

Your ears began to ring, a monotonous, consuming sound, drowning out all of the shouting. You couldn't breathe.

Was he breathing?

You took a sip of air, lungs burning. You'd breathe for him.

Remus grabbed hold of Molly, keeping her out of the way as they carried Bill into the house. Up the stairs and towards you, five steps away, three, one—Ron caught your eye as they passed, looking for too guilty for a boy of only 18, but he quickly looked away, struggling under the weight of his much larger brother.

More members of the Order ran out to help carry him, relieving the boys of the burden, and you could only stand there, staring down at the twin smears of blood where Bill's feet had dragged across the threshold. Staining the stone forever.

Tonks was speaking to you, her hands on your shoulders, but you couldn't hear her, could only stare at the red, red, so much red. Too much red. How could he have anything left?

“We need more hands!” You heard someone call, the words filtering in through the din in your mind.

Hands, hands. You had hands, you could help.

“Tonks—”

“I don't think that's a good idea—”

“We don't have a choice,” Remus said, gently nudging Tonks aside and cupping your face. You forced your eyes to focus on his forehead, his crooked nose, his scars, his eyes. “Can you do this?” Remus asked.

“I-I can,” you affirmed, your voice sounding far away. Like someone else had spoken through your mouth.

“Good, let's go.”

It took more than five hours to stitch all of Bill's wounds. He'd been savaged, butchered, by Greyback. Almost unrecognizable under the swelling and bruising and gore.

The fact that he survived was nothing short of a miracle.

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

So you waited, and waited, and waited. Four days of burning fever. Four days of changing head-to-toe bandages. Four days of ladling broth between his chapped lips. Four days of praying to anyone that would listen to spare him. To bring him back to you.

You knew he'd be different, no one suffered an attack like that and remained the same, but you knew that you'd love him anyways. The scars on his skin would pale in comparison to the scars left on his psyche, and you would find whatever strength you needed to help him through it.

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

On the fifth day, many of his wounds had finally healed down to pearlescent, puffy scars thanks to the medics magic. Deep gauges littered his torso and arms, creating new dips and valleys along the lean muscles of his body, a topographical map you could study for eons. The slashes across his face was healing better than anyone dared hoped, and he finally was beginning to look like Bill again.

But the wound on his thigh remained stubborn, pulpy as rotten fruit and refusing to knit together, growing more putrid the more magic that was thrown at it.

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

You were in the kitchen, helping Neville prepare the evening meal, when a roar shook the cedar bones of the old house.

You dropped the dish in your hands with a crash, roast and root vegetables exploding all over the grubby tile floor, and leapt over it, flying up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Tonks caught you at the end of the hall, grabbing you by the arms. “He's asking for you, but you have to—y/n, listen to me,” she snapped, and you stilled, coiled and ready to flee. “You have to be careful—that mind of trauma…he might not be the Bill you love.”

“I don't care.” You yanked free from her hold and dashed down the hallway. You burst into the room Bill was being kept in, a white-washed guest room on the quieter, darker end of the house, and found Ron, Arthur, and Remus desperately trying to restrain a frantic Bill on the bed.

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

You shoved Ron aside and flung your arms around Bill's neck, throwing your weight on him in the hopes of keeping him down.

“I'm here, I'm right here,” you soothed, not bothering to hold back the tears of relief streaming down your face and into his ruddy hair.

He groaned low in his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and heaving a deep breath. His knotted muscles immediately went lax, and he looped an arm around your waist, hauling you into the bed with him. You were shocked at how much strength he still had after a week of bed rest.

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Are you alright? You didn't tear anything open—”

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

“Bill,” you argued, a fire sparking in your lower belly. You tried to push back a bit from his hold so you could inspect his bandages, could escape the intoxicating effect of his newfound affection. His grip tightened, bordering on painful, and a rumble resounded from the barrel of his chest. Something carnal, possessive, and you immediately dissolved back into his arms. Helpless to resist him.

“A ripped stitch isn't going to kill me,” he mumbled into the downy space behind your ear, his voice so much softer than whatever beast had been roused moments ago.

“Bill, we really need to do a full examination,” Remus interrupted gently. “What you've gone through—”

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

You gasped, shocked by his crude language, the aggressive edge to his voice. Bill was hardly the delicate sort, but you'd never seen him be outright hostile. Especially not towards his friends and family.

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

“Please, just let them check you,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “It'll give me and your family peace of mind.”

His eyes fluttered closed as you soothed him, his breathing leveling out. From bestial to docile in the span of a few heartbeats. “Only if you stay,” he answered finally, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you assured, and he finally let you untangle yourself.

The medic came in first, checking all of his stitches and his vitals. Besides the wound on his leg, he was mostly healed, just some soreness and a slightly elevated temperature and heart rate.

His hand only left your body when the doctor needed it for something, otherwise he maintained contact through the entire examination.

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

His family came in next, a cacophonous, emotional ordeal that made your heart ache with relief. With them, he seemed more like himself; the good-natured, charismatic man you'd fallen in love with, and some of your uncertainty ebbed.

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

“Don't go yet,” he said, drawing you back towards him. He was standing, propped against the bedframe for support.

“But you said you wanted to shower?” You blinked up at him, completely perplexed by this dramatic shift in his demeanor. Bill had never been very physical with you, besides platonic hugs and shoulder bumps.

“Help me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your heart stopped. “W-what?”

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

“I'm not sure you're thinking clearly—” you tried to take a step back, but his grip turned to iron.

“Oh, I am. For probably the first fucking time,” he growled, patience wearing thin. “I’ve loved you for ten fucking years, and I almost lost you. So forgive me, darling, I will not be letting you go again.”

You liquified, muscles and bone turning to simpering goo in his arms. You didn't care if it was the pain medicine, or a head injury, or lycanthropy. All you'd ever wanted was to hear those three little words.

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

“I know,” he hummed, the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

Oh, fuck. You swallowed thickly, throat closing as fear pumped through your blood, mixing into a strange ichor with the ever-present desire for him.

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

“No, love. Of course not. I'm still me.” He smoothed the hair from your forehead, palming the side of your skull with his long-fingered hand. “But Remus should be if he tries to get between us again.”

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it, inundated with both dread and delight.

He leaned down, catching your laughter with a lissome press of his lips. The last of your reservation dissipated, dripping out between your thighs as the kiss deepened. His lips were pillowy, tongue tinged with iron and herbs, you leaned into his embrace, content to let him devour you whole.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Law and Order - A Once In A Blue Moon Story

Part I

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: When a blind date leads to disaster, you're almost ready to give up on men. Until he sits down on the bar stool in front of you. This man is different - sensual, gorgeous, confident. He makes you want to live a little on the wild side. What do you do when a night you don't want to forget turns into a forbidden relationship by light of day? How do you cope, especially when he doesn't seem to want a thing to do with you?

Warnings: Rough sex, illicit relationship, dom/sub overtones, toxic relationship, inbalance of power in the work place

Word Count: 5766

Author's Note: Hiya lovelies! It's been a while since I've posted a story on here. I kind of lost my muse and had to find her, and my love for writing all over again.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern for chatting with me about this story and making sure I'm handling all of the things which happen in the best way I can!

This is going to be a multi-part story. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist | Next Part

Part I

The noise washes over you in waves, inane chatter and shrieking from the velvet booths lining the walls, combined with the genteel clacking of cutlery against china in a migraine-inducing din. The bar you’re in is popular, with tables occupied from wall to wall. Normally, you’d consider yourself fortunate to be seated at one of them. There’s one reason why you’re not. Blind dates have never gone well for you. Either your dates are drab and dull, or you’ve been partnered with the worst men on the planet. Rude, boorish, vulgar, you name it, you’ve been on a date with a man bearing the unsavory trait. Tonight’s date isn’t shaping up to be any better.

You’re sitting at the tiny bar-style table playing with the wine in your glass, watching the carnelian liquid slosh as the liquid warms by the second. Your attention is completely on the droplets of wine sliding down the sides of the glass. Your date could care less. He doesn’t seem to notice your boredom or frustration. In fact, you’re not sure he’s even looked at you all night. He’s chattering about something involving stocks and bonds, the details so boring your eyes nearly roll back into your head while peering over the rim of his pint glass at every cocktail-dress-clad girl in sight. Drinks at this swanky bar were supposed to turn into dinner. You’re not sure this date is going to go that far.

Moreover, you’re not sure you want it to. You’re on this date as a favor for a friend. She’d sworn up and down that this guy was a real gem when she was setting you up with him. She’d spent days talking him up, pointing out how kind and hot he was. Sure, he hasn’t been the worst date you’ve been on. He is easy on the eyes, and nice at first impression. But he isn’t anything special. Maybe you have loftier expectations for your relationships than most. Or maybe you just want to go on a date where you can have a conversation, not be talked at in a mockery of one. In any case, you don’t find yourself too disappointed. You’re starting a new job in the morning and you should be fresh for your 8 AM orientation time - an early night would have been your preference. But your watch says it is already past 7 PM and getting later by the minute. This man can’t seriously think he’s so suave, can he? He’s been sending you alluring gazes and smug grins all night long, uncaring of your silence.

“So, whattaya say to skipping dinner and heading back to my place for the rest of the night?”

You’re not sure you heard him right. Mind churning, you sip on the wine, barely tasting the liquid. You’re not sure what he expects. Did he expect you to jump him the minute he offered? You’re resettling your mental estimation of his intellect downwards by the minute.

“I’m awfully hungry,” you demur. “Dinner sounds pretty good to me.”

“I’ve got something that’ll fill you up back at my place.”

His voice is greasy enough that you feel a little disgusted just hearing it. 

“Yeah?” You make your voice breathy like you’re a little turned on by his display. You lean forward, knowing the deep vee of your dress is showing off the slightest hint of the lace edging your bra. He smirks pompously, chest-puffing outward, eyes tipping to your exposed cleavage like iron ore to a magnet. He has the audacity to lick his lips, and while before you would have let him down gently, now you want to hit him where it hurts - his ego.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it all by yourself.” Your grin is sharp. “Like you probably have been every night for the last few years of your life.”

He looks a little like he’s been slapped, this finance bro, with his lips gawping unflatteringly.

“Do you have any idea who I am in this town?” He’s turning red under the collar, eyes bugging out.

“Nope.” You say the words flippantly, sipping on the last inch of the red wine at the bottom of your glass. You may not like the man, but he has good taste in wine.  “Nor do I care to.”

You lean in then, your off-putting grin widening across your cherry lips.

“I have no interest in getting to know a pompous, over-blown man-child who loves to flaunt their success in other people’s faces. So no. I won’t be coming home with you for a night in. I think I’d throw up if I saw the ‘something that fills me up’ you’ve got over there.”

He’s so angry, his face screws up at your words, the flush creeping up to his face.

“Bye-bye, now!”

He nearly knocks over a waitress and two fellow patrons on his way out of the door, sputtering impotently the entire way.

You’re still chuckling to yourself ten minutes later when a fresh glass of wine is set in front of you. 

“That was artfully done.” You startle a little at the words, your head whipping up so fast that your neck hurts at the sudden motion. The new man settling into the barstool before you is a cut above the gentleman you spoke to. Your face must show some confusion because he continues, “I saw you chase that guy away.”

He’s gorgeous, broad shoulders clad in a perfectly fitted suit. Every inch of his appearance screams luxury and class, from his auburn hair to his well-groomed mustache. He’s got long-fingered hands, one holding a cut crystal glass holding amber liquid, the other bearing a signet ring on the index finger as it rests on the table between you. There are eyes on him from all over the bar, and yet he doesn’t seem to notice. His whiskey eyes settle only on you like you're all he wants to see.

“Thank you.” You grin, sipping on the wine, the rich red liquid delicious on your tongue. “But it was necessary, I’m afraid.”

You nearly gag just thinking about the last words that idiot said to you before he left. At least you had the good sense to cut him off before he tried to strong-arm you into getting in bed with him.

“I kind of overheard what he said.” This stranger is smirking, confidence exuding from every pore. You’re drawn by his easy demeanor, as much as you are by his opening words. Hopefully, they’ll lead to an actual conversation. “It’s obvious he has no idea how to get to know a beautiful woman like yourself.”

“Is that so?” You lean forward again, wondering if a flash of your cleavage will take him in. But he doesn’t take the bait you’re presenting so alluringly. All he does is take off the suit jacket he's wearing, revealing the tanned vee of his neck in a white button-up shirt. You have to hide your hungry glances behind the rim of your wineglass when he rolls the sleeves up to the crook of his elbow.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’d much rather get to know you instead.” He leans forward too, and as he does, you see gold glinting from between his pecs.

“I promise I’m nothing like that idiot you chased away with your cherry-lipped smile and acid words.”

You shrug, running a finger over the rim of the glass. “I don’t know anything yet.”

He shrugs then, sipping on his drink nonchalantly. You drag your eyes up and down his person. He lets you check him out with good grace, a smirk tipping his lips up and eyes hot as they return the languid glances. “But maybe, just maybe, I’d like to.”

As he’d introduced himself to you, Bradley is a breath of fresh air. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, hanging on his every word. He’s flirty, kind, yet down-to-earth. He's a professional working in the city, loves his family and friends, and reads actual, genuine books. If only your friend had set you up with Bradley instead. Under his knowing gaze, you find yourself spilling things you’ve never told another soul. 

The crowd surges around you as the night deepens. But still, you stay, sitting on the stool, downing glass after glass of plush, rich reds and fruity, dry whites while wishing Bradley was drinking his whiskey off your lips. With each word shared, each story, the spark of attraction smoulders between the two of you. Between one trip to the bar and the next, he settles on the stool next to yours. 

If you thought he was breathtaking across the table, he's heart-stopping sitting next to you. His effect on you is worse because when he's close, you just have to look down to see the mile-long expanse of his legs, muscular thighs practically straining against the expensive wool blend of his trousers.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, beautiful.” His eyes are searingly hot a few inches away from you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your waist, a big hand splayed just under your breasts. “But I’d very much like to take you home tonight.”

You gasp at the feeling of his breath across your lips. One inch closer, and you’d be kissing him.

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is quiet, a little hoarse from the alcohol, nonstop chatter and laughter. “I don’t usually go home with strange men at the bar, no matter how attractive they are.”

He smiles, tipping his head to the side. His voice is a rumble as he whispers into your ear, tone wheedling, his other hand trailing down the neckline of your dress, fingers hot over the delicate skin of your chest.

“I promise if you want me to stop at any time, I will. I’ll call you a cab and send you home with my number saved in your phone as soon as you say the word.”

You’re losing your words, your arguments at his voice. All the reasons why you shouldn’t go home with a near stranger dissipate with every minute you stare into his eyes. 

“Take me home,” You gasp, sucking in greedy breaths as he plays with your necklace. You knew he was tall when he walked away to get your new drink, but when he helps you off the stool and drapes his suit jacket across your shoulders, he dwarfs you easily. You have a sneaking suspicion you may be in trouble. 

He leads you out of the bar with a steady, warm hand at the small of your back. Despite the crowded streets, a taxi shows up the minute he raises his hand, power and confidence an aura emanating from him. The taxi ride to his apartment downtown is an alcohol-fueled swirl of sensation. Your focus is split between the broad palm splayed over your bare thigh and the filthy litany spilling out of his bitten lips. He keeps the words just barely audible, a placid grin on his face every time the cab driver looks back, and you’re fighting the urge to drag him into filthy kisses the entire way. 

Would you be able to taste the whiskey on his tongue? Or would he taste like the mints, sharp and peppery with an underlying hint of sweetness he’d popped as you left? You can’t know for sure, not until you’ve finally got him behind closed doors.

And what doors they end up being. When Bradley unlocks the doors and ushers you in, your jaw drops to the floor. His living room is a gorgeous, high-ceilinged room, with walls half distressed brick and half grey-toned wood panelling. The floors are soft, sandy wood. While you very much would like to see the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining two of the four walls, complete with a rolling ladder like you’ve only ever seen on television, your eyes are drawn to the massive windows showing off the beautiful San Francisco skyline, lit up in the night.

“Your apartment is beautiful.” 

“It’s not the only thing that is.” 

You whirl around at the words, fighting the heat threatening to overtake your face. If Bradley looked practically edible languidly sprawled over the barstool, long legs brushing against yours, he looks divine standing in his living room with his bright white shirt unbuttoned to his navel.

“I-I don't usually do things like this.”

You curl an arm around your waist, hugging yourself. Standing here in the center of his cookie-cutter-perfect living room, you feel like an outsider, like the speck of lint or dust spoiling the facade. You don’t belong here. You don’t deserve to stand opposite a man this beautiful, be propositioned or devoured by him. Yet when you glance upward, his face shows you nothing but heat and hunger.

“Shh, sweetheart.” The pet-name makes you shiver, gooseflesh forming on your bare arms and pimpling over your collar bones. “I know you don’t. But we have all night to figure out what you like. We'll go as slow as you need.”

You’re not sure what you’re looking for in his face. Reassurance? Compassion? Want? Hunger? You see all those things and more. He lets you stand there in silence, eyes drinking you in, comfortable just watching and being watched. The more you see, the more you can feel your mind change. With the haze of alcohol thrumming through your veins fading a little, your brain is making more decisions. It was lust, pure and simple which got you here. Now your brain has to decide what you want to do here. More and more, the decision seems to be following him, letting yourself fall. You’ve never been impetuous, not where matters of the heart are concerned. Maybe you should be for once. The words end up tripping off the edge of your tongue of their own volition.

“What if I don’t want to go slow at all?” 

You know what it means when a man smiles at you like that, eyes molten, tongue sliding out to wet his lips. He prowls forward then, feline grace rippling the muscles of his torso. His arms feel like silk over steel as they crush you to his chest. Your heart stutters, breath catching as he leans forward. But he doesn’t kiss you. He seems content to breathe you in, foreheads pressed together. His mustache traces ticklish and light over your upper lip with every breath. You want nothing more than to smash your lips to his.

“I bet you don't, beautiful.” His eyes sparkle in the darkness as he traces one calloused fingers over your lacquered lips. “But I get the feeling you don't know what you want. You've spent all night so far telling me you don't let people take you home on the first night. But here you are, practically gasping for every touch of my skin to yours. So what’s going on in that pretty little head?”

The words make you squirm a little, thighs rubbing together futilely.

“I wonder,” His tone goes soft and contemplative yet light as he slides his hand up the expanse of your soft thighs, tenderly squeezing the muscular flesh. “Were you searching for a man to take you in hand? Someone who would smack that pretty little ass when you're being a brat? Is that why you chased that guy away so easily? Did you know instinctively he wouldn’t be able to do that for you?”

When you moan, it feels like you've lost the game he started playing. But you're not disappointed, not when his lips quirked upwards in a proud grin. And not when you feel his finger sweep over the damp gusset of your panties, teasing and light.

“Fuck, I knew you'd be gorgeous like this.” 

You shiver against him, muscles trembling, fighting against the urge to move his hands where you want them most. But even the slightest motion has those big hands clamping down over your wrists or swatting at the meat of your thigh, just harsh enough that you jolt. Your head is spinning already. 

“You're so quiet, so compliant and obedient, my good girl.” You have to swallow your whimpers at the term of endearment. “I can’t wait to see how good you can be.”

You nod, maybe too eagerly, if the smirk taking over his face is proof. 

“See?” The phrase is almost mocking as he purrs, “So damned pretty and soft and sweet.”

Your voice shakes as you try to collect your composure, breaking despite all the force of your will.

“I'm not that sweet. I can be rude and domineering and brash.”

He chuckles, pointing to a dark hallway, branching off the living room.

“Go to my bedroom, sweetheart. Take that sinful little dress off and sit on the bed.”

You're so gone for this man already. You don’t know his last name, what he does for work, or anything important. But you don’t care. As you trot into his bedroom, all you can think about is how his lips looked as they said, “good girl,” and how desperately you want to be good for him. Your hands are rough as you tug at the suddenly constricting fabric of your dress. You want it off; need the suddenly scratchy fabric away from your skin. When the dress lands on the ground in front of the bed in a bundle of dark fabric, you feel like you can finally breathe.

“Such a pretty girl.” 

You startle at the whisper. You hadn't turned the lights on when you walked in, navigating in the half-light of the streetlights below. A switch clicks in the silence, and you're surrounded by a halo of light. Bradley's in the shadows still, and you can’t see even a glint of his eyes.

“Turn around, baby.” 

You feel exposed all of a sudden, wearing only your lacy bra, barely there panties, and heels. His voice seems to echo around you, muddled and sibilant as they murmur words - orders - your way.

“Hands on the bed frame, beautiful.”

You stumble over your own feet as you rush to follow his instructions. With your eyes next-to-useless in the cool darkness of the room, it feels like your other senses are in overdrive.

“You look hotter than sin standing there like that, gorgeous.” 

You can feel the puffs of his breath over your sensitized skin, the fine hairs covering your arms standing on end at his presence ghosting over you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, so compliant and obedient for me. Keep those legs apart for me, now.” 

He chuckles darkly, the sound deep and velvety soft. You have to fight your whine as your knees nearly buckle at the way he sounds.

“You like that?”

You whine when his big hand smooths over the expanse of your back. 

“I knew you’d like having someone tell you what to do. I knew you’d look delicious like this, spread out for me like that. Pretty girl, my pretty, pretty baby.”

Your brain fritzes out at those words, all higher-level thoughts blanking out at the possessive curl to his voice. Your prior dalliances - you'd never call them relationships because they were too short to be labeled as such - were never bold enough to become so possessive with you. You never thought you would like it. But hearing Bradley call you his, even when you know this is only for tonight, makes your toes curl and your panties uncomfortably wet.

“What happened to that fire, huh? What happened to the feisty little thing who sent a man away for asking you to hop into his bed on the first meeting?”

His words are a little mocking as those big hands smooth over your waist, plucking at the waistband of your panties.

“Bet his eyes would fall out of his head if he could see you standing here, just like this. With your pert little ass on display and your pussy all wet for me.”

You moan at the words, gasping at the feeling of his hands as they tug the lacy fabric down, flinching at the snap of the clasp of your bra as he pulls that away, too. Your skin flushes with heat at the feeling of the soft kiss he presses to the small of your back. But the tender teasing touches disappear shortly after. He leaves you standing there, wearing only your red-bottomed heels, aching for his touch, shivering as the cool air wafts over your heated skin. You have a feeling he’s still there, your ears picking up each infinitesimal rustle of fabric and soft brush of footsteps on the floor. He’s just left you standing splayed out for his own amusement. 

How is it possible for you to feel both turned-on and uncomfortably exposed at the same time? Your fingers ache from holding onto the smooth wooden surface of the bed frame. As your patience wanes, your fidgeting increases.

“Bradley?”

You’ve never heard yourself sound like this, plaintive and strung out, aching for someone else's touch. It feels like you’re breaking down walls you’ve never known you had put up. All you can do is hold onto the bedframe and pray you aren’t vulnerable with someone dangerous.

“Nuh, uh, uh, pretty.” The hushed admonishment comes with the press of lips against your shoulder blade.

“If you want me, then you have to tell me exactly what you want.”

You tremble at the words, grip tightening on the burnished wood until all you can feel is the tug of stressed muscles. You let your head fall until your hair is obscuring everything from sight. You’re not sure you can say these words, not without feeling horribly, uncomfortably exposed. 

“Touch me, please.” 

It’s the barest whisper, but you know he hears you. His hands are hot against your skin as they draw you up. You surrender to the sensations of his calloused fingers trailing over your stomach. They’re teasing and light as they shape your breasts, palms hot as they hold you close.

“Oh, baby, you feel better than I even thought possible.”

Pleasure sinks molten and sweet through your veins at the gorgeously rough purr in his voice. You sag against him, barely trusting in your limbs to hold you. You can feel his smile as he presses hot kisses down the side of your throat. The scratch of his stubble makes you gasp. With every press, the ache between your thighs intensifies even further. But Bradley doesn’t move his hands, no matter how you wriggle or try to push his hands down to where you so desperately need them.

“Please, Bradley.”

It feels like you’ve been begging for his touch forever when he finally moves. His hands twirl you around, and you find yourself crushed to his chest. His eyes are molten, prismatic as he tugs you close. It feels like you’re drowning in him. You curl your arms around his muscular neck, staring deep into his eyes as he peers at you.

“Please, what, baby?”

There’s a mocking tilt to the smug grin on his face as he looks you over.

“I told you what I need from you tonight.” 

You whimper at the words, trying to surge up, aching for some more contact from him.

“Kiss me.” 

“Good girl.” You’re not sure you’re ever going to get tired of hearing him call you a ‘good girl”. But then his lips cover yours, and you’re not thinking about anything but him. These kisses, just like all of the others tonight, are hot and claiming. You twine your fingers into the curls at the base of his skull, gasping at the press of his tongue.

“You’re such a good girl, sweetheart.” His lips slip down the side of your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse in a knee-weakening manner. “Mmmm, darling, do you want this to go any further?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to respond in anything other than a breathless, needy moan.

“Well, you know what you have to do, beautiful.”

You’re growling when you wrench his mouth back down to yours. “I just want you to make me cum.” You say the words between needy kisses, pushing the shirt up until you can finally wrest it off. The heat of his skin feels so good against your own. When you look up, the smile taking over his face is breathtakingly gorgeous, eyes blown wide as he lays you down on the pristine, cool sheets of his bed.

“You’re too beautiful to be real.” 

You shiver as he places a kiss against your sternum, open-mouthed and wet. The shiver turns into a moan when he wraps his lips around one taut nipple and sucks. Each rough pass of his tongue has pleasure coiling in the pit of your stomach. It feels like you’re searching for oxygen like you’ve never breathed it before when he finally pulls away. You’re half expecting him to tease you again, when he laves his tongue over the other, nipping and biting. Your moans spiral through the air. You know what he’s doing when he traces those kisses down your torso, but you don’t have the patience for any more teasing.

You tug him into a messy kiss. Your teeth clash against his somewhat painfully, but when he crawls over you, you can’t find it in you to mind.

“Baby, you have to let me make sure you’re ready.”  

“I don’t care.” You’re aware you sound like a complete brat, but Bradley seems endeared by it. He lets you manhandle him onto the bed, eyes shuttering as you settle on his lap, core settled over the sizable bulge in his trousers.

“I want you,” you’re practically sobbing as you grind down in his lap. “I’ve wanted you since you sat down on that bar stool.”

“Please.” It’s a desperate plea. “Stop teasing me. I’m ready.”

“Shh, beautiful. I’ve got you.” He smoothes a hand over the plane of your stomach, uncaring of all the places you hate about yourself. 

You can’t believe your eyes when he finally pulls the remainder of his clothes off. He’s golden and gorgeous, tan glowing as the moonlight loving highlights every muscle. You’re still not sure why a man like him wanted to take you home, not when he looks like he does. His hands smooth over you, parting your legs as he kisses you. Each press of his lips to yours are deep and tender. You search for his lips every time he pulls away and gasp when he nips at the pout on your lips in retaliation. You can feel the blunt head of his cock against your folds as he grinds into you, the rough slide of skin against skin easing as you grow wetter, needier beneath him.

When he presses into you, you nearly come at the first thrust. He’s big and thick, stretching you in a way you’ve never been stretched before. He settles into a languid pace. You feel claimed with each slow thrust, all friction and heat, pressure collecting at the pit of your stomach.

“Please,” you babble, pleading for him to continue, “Don’t stop, please.”

It feels like there’s lightning in your veins. Lightning which crackles and sparks until it feels like you’re one exposed livewire lying on the bed. He gathers you up then, settles you down on his lap, hands clamped on the corded muscle of his shoulders as you go ragdoll-limp in his arms.

“There” It’s a soft, sub-audible moan as he hits that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars. He fucks you slow and sweet, right there, until you can barely feel your face and your eyes roll back in your head. You jolt when he brushes the pads of his fingers against your clit, massaging the hardened nub until you’re practically screaming his name. That’s how you cum, with soft kisses, shaking in his lap. His hands are big as they cradle your ass. You shiver as he thrusts half-a-dozen more times before finishing, his head resting on your sternum, breath hot against the sweat-drenched skin.

You slump to your side, boneless and exhausted, relishing in the cool press of the sheets. He slumps with you, still buried in you, closer than you’ve ever been to another person. You could drown in the molten sweetness in his eyes, the deep caramel depths drawing you in until it’s all you can see. He kisses you until your lips feel puffy and bruised. When he slips out of you, you ignore the mess, beginning your slow progress as you slide to the edge of the bed. He doesn’t stop you, long limbs sprawled over the sheets of his bed like a Greek god in repose.

He lifts his head, eyes blinking blearily, sleepily as you collect your clothes, pulling on each piece methodically. 

“What are you doing?” 

You flush in embarrassment. “I’m heading home.” 

You can hear the rustle of the sheets as you pull the wrinkled fabric of your dress on. His hands are hot as he turns you around. You’re unbalanced, only one heel on as you look into his eyes.

“You could stay, you know?”

You shiver, tugging him into one final, soft kiss.

“I could. But I won’t.” You step into the final heel before turning around again. His hands are gentle as they tug the zipper on your dress up.

“I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

Bradley nods, curls bouncing, throat working as he looks you over. You’re trying to look at anything but him, not wanting the temptation of his lean, muscular body.

“Be safe.”

Your Uber home is quiet, tense. Half your heart, it seems, is left in that posh bedroom, wrapped in cool Egyptian cotton, drowning in whiskey eyes. Your sleep is just as disturbed. 

You wake in the morning sweetly sore and groggy. But you can’t focus on a mind-blowing fuck, not this morning. Warring with exhaustion this morning as you take a tram downtown are your nerves. You’re nervous. This is the job you’ve been working towards your whole life. Call it fascination from a lifetime of watching legal dramas combined with a love for arguing and here you are. Three years of law school at Stanford and near perfect exam scores and here you are. Standing in a richly appointed conference room with five other rookie law school graduates waiting for orientation to start on your first day.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Law Firm of Kazansky, Mitchell, and Bradshaw.”

Your head seems to fly up at the words, and at first, you’re not sure whether you’re still asleep or drunk out of your mind. Because your eyes have to be deceiving you. There is no way Bradley is standing in the conference room with you. He’s flanked by a tall flaxen-haired man with a cocky grin and a buxom brunette in the snazziest pantsuit you think you’ve ever seen.

“I’m Bradley Bradshaw, senior counsel at the firm. My specialty is contract law. With me are my colleagues and fellow senior counsel, Jake Seresin, with a speciality of criminal law, and Natasha Trace, with a speciality in corporate law. We’re going to be your mentors at the firm. Let’s get one thing clear. We ask you all to jump, you ask us how high. Work hard, and we’ll have you taking cases of your own in no time.”

You feel like your skin is crawling with each word and each elapsed minute. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is racing as you distractedly count each minute until you’re left in a barren corner of the office in front of two empty cubicles with your training partner, a sweet-hearted brunette with a labrador retriever’s friendly personality named, Miguel “call me Mickey” Garcia. He’s already digging deep into the files Bradley handed over while you take a short walk to Bradley’s corner office. It’s just your luck you’d ended up having the man whose bed you were in last night as your mentor. And it’s just your luck that the first file you’d picked up had a post-it note on it asking for you to come by when you could.

Almost all the shades are drawn when you knock.

“Come in.”

He holds one of those long fingers up as he finishes up the conversation he’s having on the phone. You feel like you’re seconds away from being fired with every insolent look he sends your way.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Bradshaw?”

He smirks then.

“Yeah, I did.” He shapes your full name with his pouty, kiss-bitten lips, lips you bit last night, as he looks over you.

“Obviously you know nobody can know what happened between us last night.”

“Yeah, obviously.” You wrap your arms around yourself, pretending not to notice how your body aches at the sight of him, for want of him. “So what do we do?”

“Nothing,” He leans forward with a grin. “I'm not sure what last night was like for you, but for me, it was just like any other. I met a passably pretty girl at a bar and took her home. She left in the early hours of the morning after a mediocre fuck. That's it.”

You can feel rage rising, cold and sharp enough that it occludes the edges of the bleeding wound he’s caused with a few callous words.

“Now, I'm your mentor and boss. Professionalism is everything to me. My mom is the best lawyer I know, and one of the partners. She can’t know I fucked up so prodigiously with one of our rookies. And I will do anything to make sure she never does.”

It’s obvious last night meant little to him, much less than it meant to you. You wanted to track him down tonight, wanted to see if he would want to go out with you again. Obviously that isn’t an option anymore.

“Enjoy the files. Let me know if you or Garcia see something I didn't see in them. That will be all.”

Your head is reeling when you walk away, and you're quiet, withdrawn. Garcia doesn’t notice how your skin crawls with every footstep walking past the door of your small office or how you flinch at every laugh and loud conversation. Last night you were a nervous professional, worried about the job but hopeful for your date to go well. Now you’re the rookie who slept with her boss. You're his dirty little secret and he's yours. Your career, your life, and everything you've ever worked for hangs in the balance.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl @desert-fern @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @cherrycola27 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989

@eloquentdreamer @redhope446

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[oneglass-zinfandel]

Movie Night, Cuddle Night

Mammon x nb!reader

Rating: fluff

Length: one-shot

Summary: you watch a horror movie with Mammon but he gets to scared and makes a mess so you switch plans and you fall asleep together

Warnings: None

Note: I was supposed to post part 1 of Buddy Daddies Rei x Babysitter!reader today but I had a bit of a block so maybe tomorrow, also don't question why a movies is online right after it has been made instead of being in the cinema first I don't know either

It was a usual day in Devildom, except you woke up to a notification. It was a reminder you set yourself around a month ago about the new movie coming out today! It was a horror movie called "The Walking Bread" (let me have fun with the name). You were excited to see it because you loved horror movies.

Soon you got up and got ready for the day going the dinning room to meet for breakfast with everyone.

Everyone sat at the table, conversations happening left and right until you spoke your head turning to Levi. "Hey Levi we still watching that movie tonight?" He looked at you confused for a second panicking once he realized what you were talking about. "Oh! Right,.. I forgot about that, i was stayed up to see it the second it came out"

Lucifer looking at Levi shaking his head to himself hearing he stayed up late.

Mammon looked at Levi and spoke loudly as usual "HUH?! You made movie plans with the human? Their supposed to be spendin' time with THE Great Mammon"

Levi looked at Mammon annoyed. You spoke looking at them both "well since Levi already watched it we can watch it together Mammon, although this IS a Horror movie so I'm not sure you could handle it" a small giggle leaving your lips.

Mammon waved his hands around sounding offended " Of course I can handle it! The Great Mammon is not scared of some movie! I'm comin' to your room later and provin' it!"

--time skip--

The night fell as the moon stood proud and bright. You were putting on your Pyjamas, a white two piece with golden bears on it. While you were patently waiting he wasent showing up, instead of texting him you went to get drinks as well as some popcorn.

You came back a few minutes later to see Mammon in your room looking thru your drawers. "Your finally here! What took you so long huh? You dare keep me waiting human?" He said trying to sound annoyed. "I was waiting for YOU, but you weren't showing up so I went to go get some food and drinks, and I got your favorite, your welcome oh great Mammon" You said walking past him to sit on the bed. He looked at your hands noticing the drink you mentioned blushing very lightly by the fact your remembered.

"Whatever, let's start already"

--small time skip-

You two sat the the bed shoulder to shoulder with your laptop on your lap and the food on his. Your drink on the bedside table and his on the bed because he swore "I won't spill it".

The movie was only 20min in but Mammon already got shaken a bit by the light scares.

30minutes passed, the popcorn long gone.

40minutes, you saw a spoiler before watching about a big jumpscare happening some time soon moving the mouse to "check how much is left" but looking at how much longer till it happens. 30 seconds, a small smile crept on your face. "If your Scares Mammon you can cling to me, I will protect you little Demon"

He looked at you for a second with a loud "HUH" and back at the screen saying " I'm not scared, if anything you should cling to me because this is way to Scary for a hum-" He was cut off by a jumpscare as he let out a girlish scream, even you flinched.

You heard a glass fall. Pausing the movie you looked at Mammon's side, the drink got knocked over by his jump on to your bed.

Great.

Mammon looked at the drink and back at you "oops.." You simply sighed putting the laptop down from your legs onto the other side of the bed getting off yourself.

"Yeah this movie is way to scary for you" you said looking for a new blanket in one of your drawers. "…" He didn't try to deny it this time feeling about about spilling the drink.

You cleaned up the mess putting on the new blanket leaving the dirty one on a desk to put to wash tomorrow.

"You know I can watch this alone later, if you want to spend time together so bad we can watch something more your style and maybe you can sleep here for the night" you say hopping to make him feel better about the situation.

"…can we watch that one action movie with the racing you were talking about some time ago?"

"Yeah of course" you said, he leaned his head on your shoulder. Putting your arm around him you petted his hair.

Sure he was a tsundere all the time but he has his soft moments, moments where he stops the act and shoes you how much he truly loves you.

He put his arms around you leaning in,his eyes focusing on the show, but the feeling of tour touch never leaving his mind. 'Warm' he thought to himself.

Somehow he feel asleep even thru the loud sounds of the movie he picked. You noticed eventually, carefully closing your laptop as you moved him to lay in bed with you, spooning him while petting his head.

Your head was on top of his, his face meeting g your chest he brought you closer even in his sleep.

You mean a lot to him.

Anyone else would have yelled at him for that accident but you didn't, you even offered to watch something you probably weren't interested in. You were to kind for him.

A mere human.

His human.

[sunlightbabe]

Hi Emily 💕

Congrats on the 1000 followers, you deserve every one of them.

I won't annoy you with my terrible taste in music ... But I love the idea <3

And I'm torn between please make me laugh and break my heart .... So ....

List 1, number 15 and with Thomas. Please and thank you 🥺💕

hi foxy 💛 this is super late but i've always promised to write all the things i have asks for hehe. i hope you enjoy the angst <3

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

It's quieter out here on the back porch. Behind you, back inside the house, you can only faintly hear the ongoing party- the din of people talking, people laughing, music blasting on the speakers, too faint to know what song but loud enough that you can still hear the bass through the glass sliding door separating you from all the noise. The view out here isn't so bad, you suppose. The grass is a little overgrown and it looks like the flower beds could use a watering, but from here you get a decent view of the night sky. The stars are nearly twinkling and there's a story-book-esque wispy cloud drifting in front of the full moon. It's relaxing. You're grateful that you're alone-

But as soon as the thought enters your head, you hear the door slide open behind you and the relative quietness of the moment is ruined as the noises from inside filter out and disturb your peace.

Sitting on the steps of the back porch, you close your eyes and inhale slowly. Maybe it's just someone out here for a quick smoke. Maybe soon you'll be alone again-

"Got a light?"

Who knew three simply words would jolt down your spine like an electric shock, stomach dropping. You would recognize that voice anywhere. You've spent enough nights falling asleep to it's late night ramblings, a familiar warmth pressed along your back, a wandering hand trailing lightly down your side and easing you into sleep.

Ignoring the sudden ache in your chest, you turn to look over your shoulder. Thomas is standing there in the moonlight, his slightly too large shirt slipping a little off one shoulder, his fingers nervously tapping against his thigh where his arm hangs loosely by his side. His back is to the door and so it's hard to see his face, to see what he looks like. Maybe it's better this way.

"No, sorry." You can feel the weight of your lighter in your pocket.

You turn your head and focus back on the yard, on the wilting flowers around the porch, on the scattering of trees and bushes at the end of the yard. A moment passes. You don't hear the door open again.

You do hear the creak of wood as Thomas walks towards you and sits beside you- a respectable distance away, as if you were strangers. As if you didn't know how nasally his voice got when he was sick, as if you didn't know his comfort foods or how engrossed in his work he could get, as if you didn't know he was so laughably bad at directions but it didn't matter because no matter where you went, there was always fun to be had, always an adventure waiting for you, always something new and exciting and-

You stop your rambling brain. There's no point in treading such familiar paths, not when you know what lays at the end.

You sit on the steps. Thomas sits on the steps. No one makes a move until-

Until.

".. how have you been?" he asks, voice a little quiet, a little unsure. As if he maybe shouldn't be asking you this. You wish he wouldn't, truthfully, but just hearing him against makes you shift a little more towards him. There's always been something within you pulling you to him and you fucking hate it.

"I'm alright," you lie. "You?"

A moment of hesitation. You refuse to look at him but from the corner of your eye, you see Thomas slump a little, elbows against his knees. You want to reach out and smooth your hand against his back, maybe scratch a little at the back of his neck and into his hairline just like you know he likes.

Your hands clench in your lap instead.

"I'm... busy," he says with a shallow chuckle. "Feels like I can't catch my breath, you know?"

You do and you don't. You haven't been in his place, but you've traveled alongside him. You remember the jetlag and visiting places you can't actually see before heading off somewhere else. You remember the late nights and early mornings and all the work between them both.

Thomas continues.

"I'm grateful, of course. For the chance to... to live out my dreams. I can't imagine me doing anything else- can you?" he asks with a little scoff. He fiddles with the rings on his fingers and you watch him. "It can just be a lot, at times. It's thrilling and I never want it to end but..."

He trails off. He doesn't finish the thought, but he doesn't have to.

It's stressful. You remember the nights where he couldn't sleep, working too hard, putting himself so fully into the music. The closer the deadline, the more stressed he would get. You remember arguments, harsh little comments thrown at each other- Thomas stressed about the music, you stressed about juggling your own life while juggling his, making sure you went to work on time and called your mother and paid your bills while making sure Thomas ate and got enough sleep and-

In the end, it hadn't felt much like a relationship. You had become a burden to each other and resentment had blossomed between you. Neither of you addressed it, not until it was too late, and you wondered how things would have turned out if you had. If you had taken a moment to talk about your feelings, taken a chance to hear each other out, to listen and grow.

There's a cricket somewhere in the backyard, chirping quietly. The song inside changes and you ca hear the party whoop excitedly at whatever song is now playing.

The silence between you grows.

"I shouldn't be here," Thomas says after a moment. "I should be sleeping. We're flying out first thing tomorrow, so..." He shrugs a little and you fight the urge to shift closer, to rest your head on his shoulder.

Things had fallen apart at the end but looking at him still hurts. Being so close to him makes your chest ache and you remember all the laughter and smiles, all the kisses and touches, all the joy between you two.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

"Just another thing to regret, yeah?" he asks with a sad little laugh.

You bite your cheek harder. What else do you regret? Do you regret letting us end? Do you regret letting me go?

So many things you wish you had said, when you could have said them. But that was months ago and you should know better than to dig up the past.

Thomas looks at you, and you look at him. He's waiting for you to say something, you know it. It almost looks like he's desperate for it, desperate for you to actually talk to him, to hear your voice, for you to open yourself up to him, even if it's just small talk at someone's party.

You look away and stand up, wiping your sweaty palms against your thighs.

"... go home, Thomas," you say, fighting the urge to look at him. "Go home, get some sleep."

He says your name, hardly louder than a whisper, and you can feel his fingers brush against yours. You take a step back, then another, distancing yourself from him.

"Leave. Leave before you have something else to add to your list of regrets."

The noise he makes, small and wounded, follows after you as you head back inside. Even the music blasting from inside isn't enough to drown out the way it echoes in your head.

[vellhighbandi]

what is your favourite poem (yours or someone else's)?

also guess whoo!!!

Like how am I supposed to choose one from these awesomely amazing poems I have read over time... Maybe if I hadn't come on Tumblr and my world was confined to books and irl friends I might have a had a favourite. But like. Nikamma Bhai ke baare me to hum bol hi nhi rhe vo alag league me hai apni. And Lilac, Nyx aur Simran sabdo ka kya trishul chala ke ghayal kar jaati mere paas sabd hi nhi bachte. Aur humare kavishab bhaiiiii have you read something from her. Agar inna kaafi nhi tha, to randomly koi aur mutual kuch Aisa likh jayega ki phir chaar din Tak dimaag me kuch sujhe hi na. Favorite kaise chunu yaar main. Okay so there's this child. Like adorable baby (almost 17) that wrote a poem about me. Like she wrote it on my shirt (last da jo shirt pe likhate hai) and it's bloody emotional. Like I know it is not a literary masterpiece, but emotionally that broke me. She barely.knows anything about me outside of school but that girl wrote such a beautiful journey of my school life. Imma have to give it her that poem has to be one of my favourites.

And then one of mine, me konsa mera favourite. Bhai mere saare poems meri zindagi ke kisi na kisi part se inspired hote hai. Like till now all of them have a part of me in them. Slight exaggeration, thora change in story telling but the fact of matter is everything in these poems is me. Like I wrote उमीदें when even with 98% no one in my house was happy. I wrote Lost Soul about the time in 2019 where I honestly was so lost that nothing felt right. किलकारियां was about leaving friends behind andthe friends I had made a long the way. There are like pieces I wrote about when I was suicidal and didn't see a way out, but had to persevere cause I couldn't justify my selfishness in quitting. Ghastly Men was written about an experience almost every female goes through unfortunately. Pain My Partner is a pretty self explanatory title. The Single Leaf was the story of how everyone actually goes through a similar life told in metaphor. Destiny is about my childhood dream of being an adventuring protagonist. Beautiful Right was just me simping over the idea of love. My heart shattered glass was about realising I might never be loved again. And then there was two pieces I wrote about a friend being in a toxic relationship forgetting and worth and finding it all over again. (I'm proud of that one, she cries reading that) Perfect Child is just he Burnt out kid in me venting wishing for something I'd never have. Scars are beautiful is again about scars physical or metaphorical changing how everyone perceives you as. अपना पाओगे the pessimistic in me revealing itself. Kubool ho was a collection of couplets I wrote on demand. Choices is about friendship and the worth of relationships in a world where the concept of it is foreign again a metaphors representation of a part of my life. My Beloved Moon is just be thanking all my people for inspiring me everyday in ways they didn't even know... And Crimson Mistake and The Lunar Loon was all thanks to these two kiddoes I have sort of adopted on here. So all my poems have something about them and I can't exactly choose from them all. Although I gink the first ones I wrote will always be special in some way.

(PS I'm a dunderhead at guessing. Please tell me who are you enough though I wrote a whole damn novel in lieu of a simple question)

[ooops-i-arted]

whichever question you most want to answer for each of them: Alanne, Brizsa, Ika’ika

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Alanne grew up in a reclaimed Mandalore, safe and happy without knowing the loss of culture or fear of genocide that her parents and Grogu experienced. To them, Mandalore was won with blood sweat and tears, a precious treasure to be protected and uplifted. But to her, it's just home. She doesn't have the baggage they do: Cara seeing the garden of lost Aldereaanian flora attempting to be regrown, Din seeing statues and art honoring former heroes, Grogu participating in a Jedi outreach program - to them, all of that is something that was hard-earned and could so easily be taken away again because they've experienced it. She sees it all with unfettered eyes; she's not unaware, but she didn't experience the loss like they did. She just sees beautiful flowers and pretty art and a cool place for her big brother to show off his skills. It makes her feel warm and happy and safe inside with no tinge of bittersweet feelings. She's the kid that always calls home or scrolls the HoloNet for updates on her favorite places when she's been away for too long.

26. What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Once Brizsa got a jetpack she was never going to put her feet on the ground or a train or anything else EVER AGAIN. It doesn't matter she was supposed to accompany Mom and Dad to a Senate hearing and look extra nice and presentable, JETPACK. Grogu has an upset stomach and needs a quick trip to a medic? JETPACK and don't you DARE throw up! Point A to Point B are less than fifty yards away? JETPACK. Mom and Dad grounded me? LOL, JETPACK. Finally got a proper suit for under the armor that seals and is safe for space? I'M GONNA JETPACK TO THE MOON, LEWZERS

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Ika'ika's most favorite way to go to sleep is nestled in a scarf at Dad's neck, soothed by the sounds and physical vibrations of Dad humming. (Din does not mind the tiny claws that leave the tiniest barest scratches all over his neck.) If that is not an option, a vibrating toy and the noise it makes in his crib will also help. He will also accept being curled up in Dad's palm or nestled in blankets (though Din is so afraid of him being smothered this only happens when Ika'ika can run away and find his own blanket nest).

[odetodilfs]

What I write for:

This post is supposed to be for my masterlist, but it needed remaking and the link stopped working anyway.

I will write:

Male reader (and characters obviously) Gender neutral reader Ftm reader (and characters)

I write smut, angst, fluff and drabbles!! (I'll write hispanic reader as well, but 99% of my works don't mention reader's race, but if you wanna request hispanic reader go ahead, I'm hispanic myself :) ) Fem readers can I guess see the fics as long as you don't fetishize the.... though I doubt why you'd wanna read them anyway? (This stops with Silva fics... please don't go on those!!)

Requests:

I'll signal if they're open or closed, but I'll prioritize my own ideas over them.

Please, I beg you on my knees that you say who tops and who bottoms if you do smut, I'll also write switching.

And PLEASE reblog my fics!! It takes two clicks, thank you.

PLEASE use your common logic and don't request disgusting kinks like piss, shit, etc

Kink list here

Fandoms:

Finally, onto what characters and fandoms I'll write for...

Joel Miller (TLOU) (No longer writing for) Agent Whiskey (Kingsman) Javier Peña (Narcos) Javi Gutiérrez (TUWOMT) Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier)

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble) Pero Tovar (The Great Wall) Dio Morissey (NYPD blue)

Marcus Moreno (We can be heroes) Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones) Ezra (Prospect)

Silva (SWOL) Steve Murphy (Narcos) Namor (Wakanda forever) Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Santiago García (triple frontier) Steven Grant (Moon knight) Marc Spector (Moon knight) Jake Lockley (Moon knight)

Miguel O'Hara (ATSV)

Jake (SWOL)

Non reader Pairings

Silva/Jake (Strange Way of Life) Poe Dameron/Finn (Star Wars) Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth (The Mandalorian) Frankie Morales/Santiago García (Triple Frontier)

[kittlesandbugs]

BG3: The start of something Characters: Dark Urge (Nox) & Enver Gortash Warnings: Canon typical hints of Durge violence Word Count: 1212 Summary: After being badgered for almost two months, the Chosen of Bhaal agrees to meet with Gortash and find out just what he's about.

"Well. I'm not sure what I expected, but I won't say I'm not pleasantly surprised."

Your eyebrow creeps up as you glance over your tankard at the tall foppish man. His fine leathers declare he'd be more at home with patriars in the upper ring, but the ease of his stance suggests he's just as at home in a dive like this. You give him a wry smile as you rise to greet him, more than a little gratified to find you're half a head taller. When he takes your hand, he doesn't flinch from your dark gaze, and his grip is firm and strong. But there's something about him that makes your hindbrain itch with Father's displeasure. 

Despite the misgivings, you wave the serving girl over to bring him a pint of the same piss you're drinking. She's quick to dart over, flushing at your thanks and coin. You'll have to remember her for later.

"What did you expect?" you drawl as you retake your seat. "A man?" 

"Oh, nothing so droll," he says with a negligent wave of his hand as he slides into the booth across from you. "You know, terrifying horned helmet, spiked plate mail, something to strike fear into the hearts of all who stand before them." Then his voice lowers below the din of the tavern for your ears only. "Someone like Sarevok Anchev."

You chuckle and take another swig of your rotgut ale, giving him a toothy grin in response. Mareth was right. He does know who you are, even if he didn't know what you looked like until now. "Grandfather is not well-known for his subtlety."

His eyebrows raise in surprise and no small amount of awe. "He's your grandfather? Truly?" 

"Not exactly, but..." A shrug as you shake your head. You suppose technically he'd be something more akin to a half-brother? Uncle? Centuries and impurities muddle your relations. Father's lines aren't exactly known for their clarity or linearity. You respect the specter of the past enough to use his chosen title for you and your dear "little sister." But that's nothing this stranger needs to know. 

He huffs little breath of a laugh, dark bottle green eyes crinkling with mirth that ends as soon as he drinks. He winces at the acrid cheap ale. "Gods, next time we meet, I'm choosing the venue."

"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" you ask, amused by his assumption that this is anything more than a satisfaction of curiosity for you. He's been attempting to get your attention for the better part of two moons, leaving messages with your people. More recently on their corpses, which is what finally prompted you to respond. Killing the congregation is your job. "I don't even know who you are. Or what you want with me, given that you seem to know which master I serve."

His face scrunches up like a fresh worg pup's, offended by the call out of his presumptuous familiarity. His brows knit in consternation, and then he sighs and nods. "Of course, that was quite rude of me."  He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders, offering his hand again. "Enver Gortash. Artificer, entrepreneur," his voice drops again to the level of conspiracy, "and Chosen of the Black Hand."

Bane. That explains the strange feeling that's been crawling under your divine flesh. Your lips curl instinctively in distaste matching Father's, your fist curling around the dagger at your hip as the image of his blooded corpse at your feet fills your mind. He'd make such a pretty one, too. 

Rather than be offended by your reaction, Gortash give a nervous laugh and raises his hands, entreating and placating. "Please, before you cast your full judgment on me, I did not seek you out to rehash a centuries old feud." He's quieter, serious in his claim to neutrality. 

"Then what have you sought me out for?" you growl low, a panther poised to strike. 

"Partnership," he says simply, not balking from your baleful gaze. "My master is almost as reviled as yours, staving off any kind of cooperative endeavors with most other sects. I believe that together we can achieve more than either of us could alone."

Your hand stays and you force yourself to relax. To sit. To breathe. To let him finish his proposition. 

"As a show of good faith, I have some information you may find most interesting, regarding some relics of your bloody sect." The smugness in his voice has returned, now that you've sat back. He fishes a sheaf of parchment from his pocket and unfolds it before sliding it across the table.

An advertisement for a new exhibit in the House of Wonders.  Not a place you generally think about, much less visit, lurking in the under reaches of the as you often do. Your eyes dart across the page, taking in the information. The dark side of Baldur’s Gate.  An anniversary of the Bhaalspawn crisis two centuries prior.  And on display… torture racks retrieved from a Bhaalist coven led by a human Bhaalspawn, Eler Had.  And the bones of a Bhaalspawn kobold, Toop.  You’ve heard tell of both of them, from Sarevok and your butler.  

“How dare they?” you hiss, your fist clenching around the parchment, hard as the set of your jaw.  “We are not some spectacle to be gawked at by cattle.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” he says with a sympathetic tone, nodding his understanding.  “And I would like to assist you in retrieving these artifacts.”

"And you're just telling me about this? Just offering to help me recover them because…?  I have trouble believing this is just about making friends.” Your eyes narrow as you meet his gaze, trying to peel your way through the onion of his confident facade. "What do you hope to gain from this alliance?" 

"Well…" He gives you a conspiratorial grin as he leans in close enough for you to smell his sandalwood cologne over the unwashed stink of the tavern. "Let's just say I have some rather lofty political aspirations that would be greatly assisted by the judicious removal of several individuals.  And who better to assist me in this endeavor than one so very versed in the art?"

There's a low thrum of approval deep in your bones. Political upheaval is nothing but beneficial to the Lord of Murder. You feel your lips curl in sync with your toes as you imagine the blood sure to follow. The ruling class of this city is as insular and inbred as your own cult, much as the patriars pretend otherwise. They will not take kindly to this usurper wheeling and dealing his way in. You give him a decisive nod, extending your hand to seal the alliance. If the heist you’ll be planning at the House of Wonders ends up being a disaster, you can exact your retribution later.

He grins as he returns your grasp wholeheartedly with both hands. "Now that we're friendly, what may I call you?" 

"Nox. Just Nox."

"Quite poetic for a Bhaalist," he says, staring into the abyss of your gaze as his grin widens. "I can tell already. This is going to be the start of something truly great."

[shirozora-draws]

Round 2 of the weekly sketchdump! God, I feel so incomplete if I don't draw Din at least once every 7 days.

I feel so bad to myself because I'm not bothering to attempt polished art pieces, and then I have to remind myself I'm not even supposed to be drawing right now. These sketches are a compromise, and by golly I need to keep doing sketches in this style. The thought of doodling Mando and OFMD things in grayscale with splishsplash colors is making me feral and I'm supposed to be writing right now.

I've been going feral all day over the helmeted Din with the red scarf doodle, like jfc I love this character way too much. Also, this is the best Luke face I ever drew and I'm so angry because that happens just once in a blue moon.

[townofcrosshollow]

COAGULA - CHAPTER 2

Genre: Post apocalyptic, queer horror

Content warnings: Body horror, PTSD, violence, sexual content

Word count: 1,333

CLICK HERE TO START AT THE BEGINNING

Sloane gathered her meager posessions and told her landlord to fuck off. It was time to enter the city market for hopefully the last time to stock up on supplies with this stranger.

In the harsh light of the desert sun, she finally got a good look at them. Their skin was pale beneath the layers of black fabric that pooled over their bony body. They had these long, well maintained fingernails painted a bright white with black lines down the center, and those lines continued down the fingers as tattoos before meeting at a crescent moon on the back of their hand. Their cracked lips were curled into an almost imperceptible smile- not a sinister one, although it was hard to tell with black cloth draped over their eyes. Layered over the loose mask was a beaded cord with dangling threads along its length, wrapped through holes punched in old world coins. There was a slight jingle while they walked. Like change in a pocket.

Walking down a rickety staircase from the precariously perched building with the stranger in tow, Sloane set off towards the market. The stranger followed her as she weaved between scrap metal buildings and groups of people, climbing up sets of concrete steps and jumping down from platforms. They didn't struggle to keep up despite their unweildy robes. The bullet wound in her side probably didn't help. She could have lost this person in a heartbeat before, but now she was only barely maintaining a pace ahead of them.

As the two ventured through the city, the person shrouded in dark clothing proffered a question. "What is your name?"

"Couldn't figure that one out?" Sloane slowed down a bit, allowing the stranger to overtake her so they could speak more easily. "It's Sloane, no last name. You?"

"I am called Whisper." The stranger paused for a moment, and the rustling of coins clicking together rose over the din of the streets. "I also have no last name, I suppose."

"That a nickname? Or did your mama really name you Whisper?"

"Yes." Whisper did not clarify further, and Sloane did not bother to ask.

The market in here was often crowded, perhaps because it was the only place within half a day's travel to get food and water. Sunlight beat down on the exhausted people, only shielded from it by clouds of dust kicked up in their wake and tattered cloth stretched between tall poles. It shaded the outdoor stalls where folks stood but did little to protect crates full of sub-par looking produce and salted meat from the intense heat. They were all arranged on raised platforms that descended into the center like a bullseye, and Sloane made her way around the outside of the uppermost ring to one store in particular.

The vendor here was a little better protected than the average, his counter formed from a window cut into one of the wooden buildings on this level. An awning in red and white striped cloth stretched out beyond it to shield him when the sun rose. Inside, it was hard to see the stock through the relative darkness, but Sloane knew what it was- all sorts of supplies, everything from fabric to food to weaponry.

Tom was leaning out over the wood counter, giving her a nonchalant stare and barely glancing at the person she had in tow. "About time you showed back up, beautiful. Missed me?"

She rolled her eyes. Every week, this song and dance. It was sarcastic, of course- with her dark skin cracked and mottled with scars and her body stocky and functional, Sloane wasn't winning any beauty contests. Not that she particularly minded. And he was well aware that he wasn't her type, so to speak. "Don't be a smartass. You know I'm not here because of your personality."

The man put on an exaggerated frown. "You only want me for my body?"

Flipping him off, Sloane gestured with her head to her confused companion. "I've got a charge who's in need of some supplies for a pretty long trip. Hoping you can convince us not to shop elsewhere."

"Hello, stranger," Tom called over to Whisper with a salute and a nod. "I am at your service. Your wish is my command. Depending on the wish, of course."

"Do you take shiny objects as payment?" Whisper asked, their head cocked to one side.

Before Tom had a chance to respond, Sloane cut in, shooting him a knowing look. "Yeah, he does."

Tom knew well enough to trust Sloane not to screw him over. "I take whatever's worth money. Whatever I can resell, of course." That didn't stop him from raising an eyebrow at his customer, unsure what exactly her payment was meant to be.

"It'll take a couple days worth of rations to get down to the next reliable market," leaning against the wooden counter to sneak a better look behind the shopkeep. Sure enough, it was still there- gleaming bright in the sun and left in a place of honour on a high shelf, a mahogany and gunmetal sniper rifle. The adjustable bipod, the incredible scope, the suppressor that wasn't shoddily put together out of scrap metal. It was untarnished, like it had been manufactured yesterday and placed up there to be admired. She knew how much Tom was asking for it, because Lord knows she'd asked about it more times than she could count. "How much for the rifle," she muttered again.

He didn't even bother to answer, instead countering it with a fair question. "How much is that charge of yours paying you?"

"They are paying what I charge," she responded. Not inaccurate, but certainly not truthful.

Whisper, hearing this, walked up a little closer to join the conversation. Standing at that counter right across from him they were altogether too close to the shopkeeper for comfort, prompting him to take a step or two back. They reached beneath their robes again to demonstrate the riches they were sitting on- that flickering cracked screen prompted a wide eyed expression from Tom as the stranger muttered, "I am paying her with these. I can do the same for you. They are of no use to me."

Sloane raised her eyebrows at Tom, proposing a sort of 'you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours' arrangement. Get her that rifle, and she'd ensure he got paid adequately. After a moment he piped up, waving the woman back into his shop. "C'mon, show me what you're looking to get and we'll discuss the price once I've got it all together for you." It was a transceparent farce, although Whisper didn't seem to notice. They had started fiddling with a pendant hanging around their neck, ignoring Tom and Sloane completely.

As soon as she stepped through the door back into the shop and out of earshot of the client, Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her close. He hissed in her ear, "What are you doing, taking a job for just a couple? They don't even know what those things are worth. Let's just take 'em all."

There was a long pause, long enough to get awkward and step back and eye each other up. Sloane finally responded. "That's a little fucked up."

"If we don't take them, somebody else is going to."

"Yeah, that's fucked up, man." She eyed the rifle again, stepping a bit closer. "You don't just steal shit from people. Even if they're... weird."

"How is it any different from what you were going to do? Charge them double or triple or who knows how much extra? Is it fairer because you're lying to their face?"

Sloane pursed her lips. She reached up and plucked the rifle from the shelf, hefting it over her shoulder with a defiant glare. "I'll get you one. For this." Turning to walk out, she muttered, "You ain't doing a very good job convincing me not to shop elsewhere."

[idjitlili]

W-wait you kidnapped, Jareth?

Obi-wan x reader

(Not my image)

Summary: Dropped into a strange world, pretty much on to a Obi-wan's lap, only for him to take pity on you. What a pity...

Word count:6237

Warnings: Kidnapping of a non-starwars character, tight pants wearing person.../ tight pants/ references to something under tight pants. Post Padme and Anakin reuniting. Some language. Age gap.

Okay, so maybe you had been in another dimension, with no intention,with a bit of a mind flip, you're into the time slip. You don't know how it happened one minute you was  sleeping, having one of those dreams when you are falling but you couldn't wake up, until you had shot awake from painful landing.

Well, the landing wasn't painful, two points of impact, under your legs and on your shoulder blades. Opening your eyes suddenly, to see a auburn haired man, his eyes bright, as they starred into yours, yes he was handsome. Some sort of cream wrap tunic, dark brown shirt underneath, hiding his chest. It was hot, very hot, how was his face no sweating, your arm now around his shoulders to prevent you from falling. No doubt your face showed shock.

"Who are you?!"

What else was you supposed to say, other than 'where am I?' It was not long at all before 'Obi- wan' the man who had caught you had taken you to some green guy called Yoda. Aliens, you would not have guessed it, well most people know there are actually aliens, there are so many galaxies. There was no earth in the place, so they had concluded it be some sort of bigger power had brought you were.

Yoda seemed nice enough, basically the Lady Galadriel of this place, insuring you that no harm would come to you. Of course, he had put the top Jedi on the job, Obi-wan, why did you have to put with the handsome ones, you'd end up red faced even if he looked at you. If he wasn't a nice person then he would've just dropped you.

In the short time you had been in this place, you had wondered why you had fallen in this place in your shoes. However, that is irrelevant, you had learnt about Jedi and siths, typical good guys versus bad boys. Not bad boys...not yet, of course I'm thinking about Din Djarin,well he's not evil.

Yoda did have a lot to say, except oh yes just so you know you've just been dumped into a foreign universe and now you are going on a space ship. You had been given a bag, with sets of clothing for you as well as some other supplies. Obi-wan being himself, not that you knew his regular behaviour, took your bag, when you were both walking towards the ship. Not that it was in view not yet.

"W-wait, so we are going into space?" Your voice laced with panic, as you speed walked next to Obi-wan to keep up.  He had let out a deep chuckle.

"Where else would we go, little one?"

"Uhm, literally anywhere else, do I not get food before we leave? I just got here! I'm starving."

The ship, now in view, was it floating? Was it just on a platform? Nope it was floating, did you just the force to do that, like an elevator? Looking at the Jedi, grinning as you both got closer and closer to the ship.

"It's not that bad, I won't let anything happen to you, nothing will if I am the one steering it anyways..." Obi-wan whispering last bit, but you still heard him, brows scrunching toward, who else would be piloting the ship? You? Never.  That when you saw him, stood on  ramp of the ship, assuming he was waiting for you and Obi-wan. His hair short, light brown and spiked. Was that a rat tail? Oh gosh. He was cute, but you could tell he was trouble.

"Oooh, Master, I thought you said no attachments." Obi-wan had scoffed at the boy, as you both got dangerously close, the boy looked at you with a smirk, his cheeks bunching up like a clown. That he was indeed.

"This is Anakin, Anakin, Y/n, she will be coming with us,"  Obi-wan looked at Anakin who still was looking at you, only at his master briefly. When he did Obi-wan's face could only be described as that face off Zoolander, Blue steel. Why was he pursing his lips, was he expecting a peck or was that just his stern face?

Of course when you held your hand out to shake his, he had took your hand in his pressing his lips to your knuckles. You looked at Obi-wan wide eyes, was this legal? Was Anakin even an adult? Only just, but still, he was not your type.

"Anakin, that's enough, what have I told you?" Pulling Anakin from you , pushing him into the ship, Anakin turns his face to you sending a cheeky grin. Only for Obi-wan to give him another shove out the ship. Obi-wan gesturing you for you to get on before him, with a small smile. "Thank you."

You weren't sure where you were going, hell, you didn't even know what planet you had just been was, but now you say in a seat gripping it, as Obi-wan began to pilot the ship, is that what it was called? Was called something different? You weren't sure, all you knew is this was scary. If you crashed there was little chance of survival, there's no oxygen in space.

Anakin sat next to Obi-wan, both focused on the darkness in front of them. You sat on seat that you could only describe as one of those joint seats at the back of a bus, an British bus. Maybe it's the same for different countries? The chair against the wall, you had strapped your bag down in the seat next you , as well yourself.

You had completely forgotten that you were wearing a baggy t-shirt with trousers, and shoes. That night you must've been so tired that you didn't change, you don't know what happened that night.  You must've looked very out of place, especially with what you had seen everyone else was wearing. Why were they all dressed as Jesus? You were surprised they were surprised they weren't wearing sandals.

"So, where are you from?"  Anakin had spoken gently not taking his face from his position, had made you snap out of thoughts.

"Y/h/c." You weren't sure if he meant planet, you had just stuck with your home country. Anakin had clicked his tongue, thinking, before he could say anymore Obi-wan had stopped him.

"She's not from this galaxy, Anakin." Obi-wan spoke like Anakin was supposed to know that, well you was wearing a shirt that literally had Keanu reeves face on it.

"Well then, how did you get here?"

"I was sleeping in my bed, and then I was falling somehow, whoa Obi-wan happened to be standing below me, and caught me, the end." Anakin had let out a loud snort turning to his master.

"No attachments, well, Master, if I didn't know better, I would say this was the beginning of something that was meant to be."  You swear you saw Anakin raise his eyebrows at Obi-wan, though you couldn't see properly from sitting behind.

"Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth." Why did that sound so familiar... Obi-wan was harsh to his Padawan, he didn't seem to be repulsed by you, maybe he felt uncomfortable by the tone of Anakins voice. W-wait did he just quote Gandalf?

After that everything was silent, for a while anyways, Obi-wan soon told you to go to the bathroom thing in the ship, you had already forgotten what he called it. Informing you that you should change into a set of clothes you were given; so that you would not stick out.

Clothing choice was good considering; you didn't know where you were going but you were glad you were given trousers for walking. Especially what you had been heard, you did not fancy being killed because you had tripped on the dress you were wearing.

The only reason they had took you to this planet was for them to negotiate with someone,  you could swear you saw one of them talking to someone on a hologram, why didn't they just do that. When you did arrive, you had to walk far into town. Security reasons, but the ship stood out more on it's own.

You were definitely not expecting to end up in pub, where else would they find a bad guy. It wasn't high tech like you had thought, it was a tavern, old fashioned. For a hot climate the bar was quite cool.

Strange that Obi-wan had made you sat at a table alone, there was a open space, you assumed for dancing, sat at a booth, you had perfect view to the little stage. Though there was no one there. Obi-wan and Anakin had went searching in the bar for the man or woman , or them, you weren't sure. You didn't understand how it was safer for you to be alone.

Twiddling your thumbs bored, the chat of bar was considerably low, it had already began to get dark. Soon enough the pub would be packed. You hadn't seen the man make his way on stage, standing in front of a microphone, while a couple of other people set up behind him. He did not look the band sort, but those other men were there to play the instruments, since there was only one mic.

It was only when the music began to play did you look up, a skinny man, stood at the microphone, his eyes the brightest blue, though his left pupil bigger than the right. His eyebrows had no ends, eyeshadow flicked up into an wing , the end facing his hairline, his cheekbones clearly highlighted. His hair huge , blond, long as well as being a mullet.

His shirt crisp white,with a leather brown vest, his sleeves puffy. The vest only went above his hip bones, beneath that was some very tight pants. They were almost leggings, the grey clearly presented his package. The boots what a slight heel on them reaching up his calves.

This man was clearly handsome, but he reminded you so much of Bowie, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

"There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed

Within your eyes

I'll place the sky

Within your eyes."

His gloved hands on the microphone, as your eyes were glued to him, his eyes gliding over the bar before meeting yours. His eyes eyes latching onto y/c ones, a grin spread across his face, showing his slightly croaked teeth. You quickly looked around making sure he was looking at you, glancing at Obi-wan and Anakin who were busy arguing.

"There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast

In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon"

As your eyes went back to the man, his position now moved, instead of a microphone, he had a mouth piece, a few people waltzing together on the now on the empty space from earlier, but now it wasn't empty. Your heart raced as the man continued to sing, heading your way slowly, dancing with others as he did so.

"Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all"

You don't what possessed you to stand up, but you did. Your feet pulling you towards the dance floor, a smirk upon the mans face as he saw you approaching him, you had blinked and with that he had disappeared. Your eyes searching the crowd, he was still singing.

"But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love."

You were feeling embarrassed when you could not find the man, especially being on the dance floor alone. You had almost had a heart attack when someone had placed their hand on your arm. Turning around you were face to face to the grinning man, offering you his hand. Your hand in his gloved one, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now

We're choosing the path

Between the stars"

Smiling up at the man, you felt like nothing else matter, as you waltzed with him, your movements so smooth that his hair didn't even know. Maybe he wore a lot of hairspray. Your eyes never leaving his, you couldn't remember knowing how to waltz.

"I'll leave my love

Between the stars

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling-"

What you did not notice was the two Jedi's calling your name, as they searched for you, only for Obi-wan to lock eyes onto you, getting Anakins attention, as he sighed. One rumb of the moustache and both of them started heading your way.

Jareth at eyes finally left yours, he had stopped singing, he had not let you go though.

"What are you doing, Y/n?" You had instantly unlaced your hand from the man, turning to face Obi-wan's disapproving glare, Anakin sniffled under his hand, glad he wasn't getting in trouble...again.

"Dancing?" You had even had a second to react when Anakin had stroked his moustache again, and the man was cuffed. Pulling you gently by the arm, you all made your way out of the bar, no doubt that was embarrassing. You had accidentally gotten the guy captured because you danced with him. Then again, Obi-wan would've spotted him singing as well, so maybe it wasn't your fault. Little nervous to why they wanted him, hopefully not for murder.

Once you did make it back to the ship, Anakin was to fly the ship, while the strange man  sat next to your bag, and you next to Obi-wan across from him. 

"I don't understand, I'll did was dance with him, he didn't try to kill me, so what's the problem?"  Obi-wan scoffed, staring at the man, not turning to even look at you.

"The problem is that he kidnaps children."

"No, I take the unwanted ones, those that are wished away." That sounded familiar, the hair, the pants, the David Bowie everything, it was clear who this man was.

"Ben, you can't speak him like that, do you not know who you have captured? He's Jareth, the goblin king!"  Jareth had just smirked at Obi-wan, quite frankly the outburst had made Obi-wan jump. No one called him Ben.

"W-well, I've heard stories of The Labyrinth."

"I'm sorry, how did I not see it before, the hair, the music, the very tight pants , the-"

"Why were you looking at his trousers?" Obi-wan now had turned to face you, his eyes eyes searching your face for answer, his voice stern, your face blushed. You really needed to stop talking about pants all the time.

"Do you want her to look at yours instead,Master?"  Obi -wan had choked his bearded face reddening. His eyes now off your face.

"Oh, I've already looked, what about some tighter pants , I must say you have lovely arse though." Placing a hand on Obi-wan's lower thigh, if his face was red before it was now, he couldn't look at you. A gentle squeeze of his thigh, and he had to excuse himself.

Once Obi-wan was out of ear range, the three of you laughed, though Anakin hadn't seen nor knew what tipped Obi-wan over the edge. However, Jareth had smirked at you, he knew very well what you had done. You had barely had known Obi-wan for four days, and he already felt like he was breaking the rules.

It was very clear why Obi-wan actually left the room, his trouser were now tight on him.

"So, love.."  You were surprised, obi-wan had taken the cuffs off Jareth in the ship and left him with you.  One of his legs , thrown over the end on table, as if it was an arm of a chair.

"Stop that." Anakin's voice stopped Jareth saying anymore.

Before you knew it, you had been talking to to Jareth the whole journey back, Obi-wan had came back shortly after; sitting next to Anakin. 

It was not like you had anything better to do other than speaking to the fae, Obi-wan just criticising Anakin. 'He's overly critical.' What do you want Anakin, a kiss on your cheek, oh sweetie you are doing absolutely amazing at killing the guys on our side.

Stepping out of the ship, Jareth now singing another song, like he was in a movie or something. You had caught eyes with about her man in robes, another Jedi. Hold on, that couldn't be Samuel L Jackson?

"Hey, Jareth?"

"Yes, love."

"Can't you just magic yourself out of this situation back to the your castle?" Jareth's hands weren't cuffed still, he had turned his face towards you with a grin, looking back at him, you felt bad he was only helping he wasn't killing people or anything. He was a lovely guy.

"Yes, I can, I was just waiting for a kiss goodbye." Pointing to his cheek, your pinks slightly pink as your pressed a kiss to his soft skin. With that you had pulled away, one last smile, he had turned dramatically, spinning his cape with him, glitter flying everywhere. Off flew a a light brown owl. He was gone.

"Mother fucker." Your lips turned up slightly trying to prevent a grin, as you turned back to the Jedi's that did not look impressed. Well, Anakin he did not care he just smiled, knowing you were probably were going to get in trouble. You literally didn't even do anything, all you did was kiss the mans cheek.

"What did you do?" Obi-wan eyes on you , his words  like a sharpened butter knife, you could say unnatural...even supernatural. This hands on his hips, pushing his robes back.

"W-what? Me? I told you he was bloody magic ;but no, you didn't listen."

"Control yourself, now come, Master Yoda requests all of you." Did he just tell Obi-wan to calm himself , he just called Jareth a motherfucker. 

The meeting with Yoda, Windu  and the three of you, wasn't with the Jedi republic. According to Yoda, this matter wasn't of importance, he didn't expect You'd been able to hold Jareth for very long. Master Windu, didn't give no shits, he was disappointed.

It wasn't like he killed a bunch of kids, not like Anakin was going to. Not just the men, but the woman and the children too. Jareth basically had loads of Goblin children living their best life's in the goblin city, that wasn't threatening. So, the Goblin king got away, why don't you go kill bloody Palpatine.

The next few weeks were not as eventful, stuck in your room bored, it was awkward to go out you didn't know anyone. Especially not Obi-wan you were pretty sure he hated you at the moment. You did not want to have to get involved with him and Anakin training. Exercise...no thanks.

You really did feel bad for how you acted towards Obi-wan, he was a Jedi you couldn't touch him like that. So, when he turned up at your room in the evening, with your dinner, it was surprising. Normally you'd get brought to dinner by one of the younglings.

Obi-wan stood in front of you with a small smile as he held the tray. The tray with two plates of dinner.

"O-oh, hi," pulling the door open with the door handle allowing Obi-wan into your room, before shutting it behind him.

"I thought maybe you wanted someone to eat with you," He did not expand further. Obi-wan was a kind man, he took a pact basically to have no family no nothing, just to protect the galaxy. With a high chance of death, he was a noble man, you couldn't think of anyone you knew from back home that would do that. You should not have gave him a boner.

Placing the tray on the table within your room, but instead of sitting down, he had lifted the whole table towards the balcony. Obi-wan has , went to Yoda before coming to your room, stating this was strictly professional nothing more. Yoda had just laughed. "Dine with her , you will."

Seeing what Obi-wan was doing, you had grabbed a chair too, onto the the stone of the balcony. The view of the planet, Coruscant was not the best, but it was better than looking at a wall. Ten again you'd be eating in a moment so you wouldn't have to look at either. Fresh are was good though.

Sitting down at the round table with Obi-wan was weird, you really felt guilty for your behaviour it was eating you up, whilst you both ate your dinners up. Looking up to Obi-wan, his eyes fixed to his plate as he struggle to cut a potato, his golden hair tucked behind his eyes.  Orange light from the setting sun shined into his hair, as well as his cheeks, his eyes glistening.  

"The way I acted on the ship, was completely inappropriate, I am so sorry, there is no excuse for my behaviour.  I admit I'm glad you are here now. I don't expect you to forgive me."

Obi-wan's eyes now looking back into yours, his eyebrows frowning together slightly, his knife and fork on his plate, as he lent back in the chair. Rubbing your sweaty hands along your trousers roughly, a small laugh let his lips.

"I must have missed something, you complimented my behind and squeezed my knee. That's hardly anything to apologise for, if anything I would've expected an apology for not listening to my orders."  That guilt did seem to fade away, mostly. Your cheeks reddening, as Oni-wan continued to look at you.

"I'm sorry for not following your orders, especially when in a pub on a strange planet."

Smiling at each for a moment before going back to your dinners before they got cold.  Not speaking fully until you had both finished eating.  

This became a daily occurrence for weeks, then months. You were still not returned home, you were stuck. You didn't feel alone not like you did when you first arrived. You did miss home very much, but nothing could be done about that. 

Sometimes, sorry, every time Obi-wan went out of Coruscant you went with. Even if it was dangerous, either you'd stay in the ship or simply go wherever with him.  It wasn't hard to see how close you had gotten to Obi-wan, the Jedi council did not like it one bit, not that you knew that.  Obi-wan had insisted that he had been assigned to protecting you and that was what he was doing. Not that was far from the truth.

No attachments, Kenobi? Okay.

What makes matters worse you had no currency, it wasn't hard to guess who would supply you with clothing's such. Obi-wan would take you to the market to buy you anything you needed. In return, well, there wasn't much you could do, certainly wasn't safe for you to go off on your own, especially not being from this universe. So, you just kept him company.

Anakin being Obi-wan's padawan he came along too, not to the market but on missions, but that was obvious. You had felt like a burden , you really did,  being reassured you weren't, Obi-wan had given you a role. A purpose. You were their healer.

Not Obi-wan purposely getting small injuries, he'd argue wit himself and sometimes Anakin, that it wasn't on purpose and if it was it was only to make you feel like you part of their team. Not that Obi-wan longed for the soft touches of your skin on his.

However, he was not expecting you to get hurt, no he would not have, he had sworn to protect you and he had failed. You had arrived on this strange planet for 'negotiations' for this clan to basically team up with the republic, but Darth Maul had gotten there first. Of course, you had been kidnapped, since Obi-wan told you to stay in the ship.

Darth held you off the floor by the back of your neck, holding the lightsaber out ready to kill you, not really just leverage. Obi-wan and Anakin in front, they really had no plan. Well, Darth Maul almost stabbed you, but you had the higher air and took a blade from your pocket and stabbed yourself. Blood pouring out of your Abdomen, as your eyes watered, your throat blocked up.

Dropping you to the floor, Darth Maul had laughed. "Oh, I like her." Obi-wan did not like that at all, seeing you face down on the cold floor him an Anakin activated their lightsabers.I could describe the whole fight sequence, but you already know Darth Maul wiggled himself out of that situation back to the Sith, not surprising, you wouldn't remember anyways, you had passed out.

The clan now on the republics side,  only because the Jedi's had saved them and promised protection.

Obi-wan had carried you back to the ship with Anakin, who began to start the ship. He felt guilty to wake you up, he would rather stitch you up when you were unconscious.The thought of hurting you plagued his heart, maybe he should get Anakin to do it. No, he couldn't go through with someone else hurting you.

Grabbing the medical kit, Obi-wan had made his way back to the bed, your body still, he would've been happy if this was Anakin. The thought crossed his mind, to stab Anakin, so he'd bloody shut up. Our tunic now drenched with blood, he could clearly see the tear in your shirt. He was not going to wake you , deciding just to cut a square out of your shirt.

You wouldn't be surprised if that shirt wasn't fashion back home, you know people wearing bandanas as shirts, here's what hot now, reveal your hip and your abdomen with a square hole! Who knows, I don't know anything about fashion, except I dress like David Bowie. Shut up , no one cares.

Your face was already laced with cold beads sweat, like Obi-wan but he felt like furnace, his long hair pushed back, his lips squished together as he grabbed the anaesthesia, pulling up your sleeve carefully before injecting it quickly. Then he had gotten to work, soon enough, you was stitched up.

Only problem was, that Sith had damaged the ship, so Anakin only got the three of you so far before having to land on freezing planet. But, it gets better, Anakin being really great, and supposedly a great pilot had hit the side of a mountain. Snow had covered the ship, you were trapped by an ocean of snow.

Of course, R2 hadn't came in this trip, just luck, only thing that was working was the heating and lights, the signal had gone. No way to contact anyone, however, someone was bound to notice in a few days something had gone wrong.

This was not going to be like without a paddle, where you'd all be in your underwear and spoon. We do not shaggy here, um? Get it before Shaggy is in that movie? 

Eventually, you had woken up, a little dizzy, probably would not have if Anakin wasn't having a tantrum. You didn't even question how you got back to the ship, your shoes tapped quietly against the floor , as you made your way to the cockpit.  Both Obi-wan and Anakin were stood in the centre of the room, Anakin point and clenching his fists, Obi-wan just stood there.

You got a feeling that Anakin was not good at keeping his emotions in check, why was he always so emotional. Obi-wan was now sipping juice, no blue milk, yuck, Anakin still shouting.

"You're jealous, master. You're afraid I am getting too powerful, you want me to fail!"  Placing his drink down, Obi-wan had caught your eyes,  his face lightened into a smile from his frown. "Mum,  you think I am ready to be a Jedi Master, right?"  His eyes soft on the sight of you, coughing slightly, you had looked back at Obi-wan who turned to you in a swing, now amused by his Padawan.

"I'm sorry, aren't I a similar age to you?" The cold temperatures from the snow, had transferred into the ship, but Anakins cheeks still burned. He just stood looking at you unable to speak, Obi-wan had laughed patting his Padawan on the back once.

"Don't worry about it; he does it to everyone. When he was younger, it was difficult to convince him to stop calling me father. Sometimes, he still does." 

"Liar, I do not. You treat me like a whore ; calling everyone my father. I do not, it was mistake!"  Anakin was overwhelmed, his voice defensive and loud as he left the room, leaving you with Obi-wan, who's lips were twitched into a large smile , as he stroked his moustache.

For a few moments you both stood in silence, before you had looked down to the ache and coldness on your lower abdomen. A hole on in your shirt where you we're stabbed, now stitched up.

"Oh yes, sorry about your shirt." Your finger tips tracing the fabric, then touching the wound, pain shot through your body, letting out a welp. Obi-wan eyes had widened, stepping close to inspect the wound again, why would you poke it?

"It's just a shirt, it's not like you don't buy them all anyways, thank you for that again, also thank you for stitching me up ,  that was you?"  Your voice quiet, under his gaze, a deep chuckle had left his mouth.

"Yes, I did, I hardly trust Anakin's flying, how are you feeling? That was very well done back there, but I do recommend you don't do it again." You had scoffed, letting out a short laugh after, Obi-wan looked at you rising his eyebrows, to warning you.

“Oh, yes, I plan on stabbing myself again, who do you think I am? Loki? Okay, maybe I’ll fake my death for attention too.” Obi-wan’s hands gently placed on your shoulders, squeezing lightly , as he looked into your eyes. His blue orbs intensely on yours, his hair neatly tucked back.

“I wouldn’t allow that, from now on you don’t stay in the ship alone, If something happens to you I’d never forgive myself, and I believe that you were sent here for a reason. Not to die.” His hands had left you , smiling at you once more, before leaving the cockpit.

Not only after that you had retired to your bed, in clothes without holes, your now many blankets covered you. Thanks to Obi-wan again, since you all spent so much time on the ship, it was necessary for situations like this. Of course, as long as the ship wasn’t blown up again.

Though the heating was working, it didn’t stop the cold from the outside. Curled up so tight in your blankets, trying to retain heat, you could not get comfortable to sleep. The cold nipping at your feet and cheeks, your nose was probably red too.

Only an hour or two from when you first got into bed, sighing , all your blankets wrapped around you, stepping out of bed. Quietly, making your way around the ship, just to tire yourself out, or to make yourself really cold. So, when you would get back into bed you’d be like ‘oooh warm’ and fall asleep.

You had meant to wake in on Obi-wan sat in his chair in the cockpit, wrapped up in his robes, seemingly fast asleep. His arms crossed, his auburn hair covering his face , neck cranked forward. He was going to have a sore neck in the morning.

Turning on your feet, slowing walking out of the room, pulling your blankets tighter. A sigh had left Obi-wan’s mouth, not loud but you heard it. Your movement now softened, you continued with tiny steps.

“I know you are there, Y/n, come back.” No doubt you almost peed yourself, hearing Obi-wand raspy voice, he had been a sleep, you felt horrible. Walking back from the door way, Obi-wan had turned to chair to look at you.

“I didn’t mean to wake, I didn’t know you was even in here.” Obi-wan opened his mouth yawning loudly, before looking back at you, snorting a laugh, at your choice of clothes.

“What are doing up?” Shifting on your feet, covered with socks, the icy floor numbing them.

“Can’t sleep, aren’t you cold?” You wondered if Anakin was having trouble sleeping too, he must’ve been fine, since he left Obi-wan in here. Obi-wan probably never meant to fall asleep, waiting for anyone to contact. Shaking his head, he had opening his arms up gesturing you over.

“Come here, darling.” Not sure on what he was going to do, yet you still walked towards him, you trusted him. You were glad if you were stuck you was stuck with the Jedi. Pressing his palm around your clenched hand that held tightly onto your blanket. His hands were really warm, like had them between his thighs. His lips moulded into a circle shape, inhaling sharply.

“Oh, I should’ve brought you more blankets.” His hand still on yours, looking up at you, a small smile on your face, your teeth felt like ice cubes, a few moments went by, you weren’t sure what he was waiting for or what you were waiting for.

“ Do you think I could stay here...with you?” Your cheeks now felt hot, the words barely a whisper, you shouldn’t have asked, it’s completely inappropriate. “I-I can go back to bed-“

“Nonsense.” Obi-wan had pulling you into his lap, okay, so maybe you thought he would’ve been like yeah and you would’ve sat in the chair next to him. You head resting against his chest, his stubble tickling upon your head. Obi-wan’s arms wrapped around you tightly, sealing the blankets. Yours around his waist, feet tucked up on the chair, as well. Obi-wan warmth surrounded you with his scent, the soft touch of his lips against your temple.

“Am I allowed to love you, Ben?” Your eyes fluttered closed, your voice barely above a whisper, Obi-wan’s heart hitched into his throat. He flirted too often and he knew it, and he knew that his feelings weren’t platonic either, he wouldn’t have spent dinner every night alone with just anybody.

“No, I suppose you’re not.” What would the council feel about this, he wished he could blame Yoda for making him guardian over you and that first dinner with you.

“If you aren’t supposed to have attachments, then what am I? You promised Master Yoda to protect me, isn’t that an attachment. Would anyone be able to tell? You have to be with me pretty sure all day anyways.”

Your words made him ponder for a moment, he knew you were right, you had already acting like you were together for a long time, not directly in front of council though. It was clear Anakin saw it too, he wouldn’t have called you mum, that was weird though. Maybe he has a kink think because he hasn’t seen his mum since he was 9.

Obi-wan looked over you all the time, brought you everything you needed, ate dinner with you, kept you warm, stitched you up, protected you from strange people. There were times where you’d turn up to his room crying, or upset or missing home, he’d comfort you. Similarly to this situation, you’d end up in his bed, not like that, you in his arms stroking your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple as you fell asleep. It was not new.

“You are right, I love you.” Looking up to the Jedi, as he smiled down at you.

“You do?”

“I do.” He may not have kissed you then, but you had time, you weren’t about to let Anakin take him from you. What mattered was you were together, even being away from your home, you had another. With Ben and a ‘son’ that was older than you.

Oh , Anakin was so cheeky when he had awoken in the morning seen you against his masters chest.

“I knew it.”

[chaoticgeminate]

*flails wildly at all your wips*

What to pick?!

*flails again*

Okay-

Dreamwalker Dio?

Omega Din?

💚

Hazel I love you so much, you always make me smile huge. Here's what I got and they're kind of long because I'm feeling stupid excited about them both.

Dreamwalker Nico (Iridescence-verse obviously 😘):

He was almost ethereal, a slow grace to his movements like he was drifting, and you couldn't help but keep glancing at him while gathering the pieces of his order. Dried lavender, silver powder, and sage sachets for protection in sleep were set carefully into the custom wooden chest; the locking mechanism was a puzzle style lock that only he and you knew how to open.

Tucked beside the sachets were the braided cords of winter widow silk, in a variety of pastel blues and violets, and lastly were a half-dozen candles made of dwarvish glowfly wax. You glanced at the name on the top of the order form.

"Nico? Your order is ready."

His smile set your heart thundering in your chest as the man drifted his way toward you, it wasn't too wide or too shallow and looked so sincere. His hands skated over the box you'd left open, carved to his exact specifications by hand during the full moon, and his voice was somehow firm and soft at the same time.

"Such quality and beauty."

"You designed the chest."

"I wasn't talking about the box, sweet thing."

Omega Din:

"I didn't realize you were an Alpha."

Din's voice was gentle and you turned your head to glance at the armored warrior, his tall and broad frame with muted colors screamed Omega louder than his protective and nurturing instincts for Grogu did. You supposed he wasn't actively trying to hide his nature, it wasn't like anyone would be stupid enough to challenge an Omega with a child to a fight and expect to win.

"You weren't supposed to find out."

Admitting it out loud felt strange and you hastened to make sure he didn't think the wrong thing. Didn't think that you were hiding it from him for any reason other than the truth.

"I was raised to blend into the crowd, to go unnoticed, so aggressive posturing and wearing bright colors were sort of counter-productive to that. I spent basically my entire childhood having any of the instinctive Alpha reactions to posturing and challenges beaten out of me. Until you came and bought my freedom I wasn't allowed to be an Alpha."

A large hand settled on the back of your neck, his thumb brushing right over your scent gland under the high-collar armored vest you wore and you knew he could feel the suppression chip embedded under your skin.

He moved behind you and covered your eyes with his hand, making you raise your brow carefully, but the soft hiss of the pneumatic pressure being released followed by the flood of his scent shot a ripple of something down your spine.

WIP Title Game

[dindjarindiaries]

Am I don't know am "I'm sorry but... who are you?" "I'm sorry if I give you the wrong impression" and "I've got you" with Din? Maybe something like Din finding out he has a lost child?... I'm sentimental with fathers and children relationships ok?

character: Din Djarin

prompts: “I’m sorry, but... who are you?”, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” and “I’ve got you” from a prompt list that’s since been deleted!

warnings: mentions of death

rating: PG

masterlist

It’s been many moons since he last saw you. Din tries not to think about you anymore—but sometimes, he can’t help it. He wants to know what happened to you. If you ever made it out safe. If you were living a happier life now, like he wanted you to. He never wanted to force you out of his life, but it was too dangerous. Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to him, but at least he knew that you were going to be in a safer situation.

The thought of you came up when Din arrived to the marketplace here on Vallera, aiming to pick up some quick supplies for the Crest. He’s returned to his life of bounty hunting after he found the child’s home—as hard as it was to leave him. He only works for Greef, who he knows is reliable and won’t mess with any other Imperial warlords. Din’s still not used to having to cut the amount of supplies down, now only having to fend for himself like he used to. He wishes it felt more natural. Instead, he finds himself feeling as if he’s always missing something, like he’s never quite complete no matter where he goes or what he does.

Din left you here on Vallera, which is why you’ve come to mind. He wonders if you’re still around. He won’t let his hopes get up—he never does. He knows you probably wouldn’t want to see him anyway. The decision for you to be left here wasn’t a well-received one by any means, and Din will never forgive himself for not trying to leave on better terms. But in the moment, his care and concern for you conquered all else, and he was able to get away fast. He knows there were still tears running down your cheeks as he turned on his heel and left. Din wanted more than anything to run back to you and wipe them away, to tell you that everything’s okay and that he’d never really leave you. Instead, he did just that. It was the best option for you and your safety.

Din lets out a soft sigh, hoping the noise doesn’t pass through his modulator as he walks through the various booths. He can hardly remember what he’s supposed to be getting, now. The thoughts of you have consumed him whole. He curses to himself, attempting to swallow back the painful feelings as he presses on. Din observes the booths as he passes them, trying to get his focus back on track. Fruits. Meats. Cloths. Health—

Suddenly, there’s a tugging on his cape. Din immediately stops, his hand brushing over his holster as he turns around to face whoever’s standing there. He sees a young girl cowering away at his rash actions. She can’t be older than eight, and instantly Din softens as he releases his hand from his blaster. He’s blown away by how familiar she looks—and his heart aches upon realizing that he’s recognizing you. It’s almost as if her face is yours but with more childlike features. Now I’m seeing her everywhere, Din thinks to himself. It’s gone too far.

“Can I help you?” Din asks the child, trying not to let his voice be too harsh nor too soft.

The child’s hands clasp nervously behind her back as she looks up at him, and Din’s heart softens upon seeing her innocence. He’s always had a soft spot for children, knowing how he ended up himself—alone. After he took the child under his wing, that softness only grew. “Are you a Mandalorian?” she asks, keeping her voice gentle. Din’s once again reminded of how much she sounds like you.

“Yes,” Din answers simply.

The little girl smiles, her dark eyes lighting up. “It’s you!” her small voice exclaims, almost cracking a bit in her joy. “Mommy told me to find you.”

Din feels confusion fill him immediately, and he bends down closer to her level as he tilts his helmet at her. “I’m sorry, but... who are you?” he questions softly.

The girl’s face falls, and Din’s heart almost shatters upon seeing her evident disappointment. “Oh,” her voice says, sounding distant. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. Mommy must’ve been talking about a different one.”

Din knows there wouldn’t be another Mandalorian, and so before the little girl can turn to leave, Din reaches forward to place his hands on her shoulders. His visor meets her eyes as he addresses her firmly. “Who’s your mother?”

When the little girl says your name, Din feels his heart practically launch into his throat. This is your daughter. Having a piece of you in his hands again makes him want to collapse with relief on the spot, but he knows he has to continue his investigation if he wants to find anything out.

“Where is she? Is she safe—are you safe?”

The little girl’s eyes start to tear up already, and Din’s heart begins to crumble inside his chest. “No.” Her small voice is a ghostly whisper, and Din’s protectiveness instantly starts to kick in. “Mommy is... gone.”

“Gone?” Din can barely recognize his own voice through its sheer emptiness.

“There were bad people,” the little girl starts to explain, swallowing back her tears. “Mommy told me to go. She said they were going to hurt us. She told me to find you.” She stops, her dark gaze looking at Din with sadness and desperation. “I’ve looked for you here everyday.” Her gaze falls again when she adds her last bit. “I went home once, but Mommy was...” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to.

Din hadn’t saved her. He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check for the sake of the last piece of you he has left: your daughter. “Why did she ask you to find me?”

The little girl’s gaze goes back to Din, and he sees a warmth there as she answers. “She said you’d help me find my Daddy.”

Din furrows his brow beneath the helmet. How could he help her find the father? Unless... Din freezes completely. The last time he was here was all those years ago. Nine years ago. He remembers that night before he left you. He remembers all the other ones just like it before that.

He can see it clearly now. The fact that this girl’s gaze looks just like his own. The brown locks that match his own untamed mane underneath his helmet. It makes sense. He’s the father.

Din feels as if he can’t breathe, but at the same time, he’s never felt so full of life before. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Ad’ika?”

His daughter’s eyes start to fill with tears again. “That’s what Mommy used to call me.” She then stops, her eyes widening as realization fills them. A smile grows on her lips as she looks at him. “D-Daddy?”

Din nods, kneeling down and opening his arms to her as she practically runs into them. She starts to cry with joy into the cloth of his shoulder, and Din holds her as close as he can manage. He closes his eyes and feels them tearing up, thankful for the helmet that hides such an emotional reaction from the people around them. “I’ve got you,” Din coos to his daughter. He feels a tear escape his eye. “You’re safe now, ad’ika.”

“I missed you, Daddy.” She grips the cloth beneath his armor tighter.

Din swallows back his emotions, instead pulling her even closer. “I missed you too.” Both of you, he wants to add—but somehow, he knows you’re here, even if he can’t see you.

[melancholicillusions]

How you two meet.

Tuesday, January 13 2018

"We are expecting a rather violent snow storm this evening. Its suspected to last a good three days. Infact its suppose to drop below freezing tonight and its expected to stay that way leading into tomorrow morning..." The women on the small television exclaimed.

"Ugh.. Of all days She could have made me work..." Y/n sighed, looking out the window which reflected no other color but white.

"Well what can you do about it?" You coworker Dokyeom chuckled, mixing the batter.

Rolling your eyes you walked over to the oven placing the empty pan inside and pulling out the cooked bach, setting it on the table turning off the oven.

"Well I could go home b-"

"Then go home, ill cover for you."

You smiled. "..but! You didn't let me finish. I was going to say.. I need this job."

Cocking his brows he reminded you, "y/n you dads a billionaire, you said it yourself he's given you more than enough to buy a nice car, house, and then just sit on your ass all day, for the rest of your life."

"Yes but he's also only a billionaire because of his father and his fathers, father. Should i go on?"

Dokyeom quickly declined your offer waving you off with his towel. "Blah blah blah."

"Haha very funny. Hey can you go tell them they need to leave? Its a minute till closing time."

"What?! Why can't you do it?" Dokyeom complained.

"Because, one I have to stay late anyways remember? Im on clean up duty. Also I dont like kicking people out.. Besides, I think they're homeless.." You trailed off.

Dokyeom sighed. "Fine. But you owe me.."

"대박! 감사해요." (Awesome! Thank you.)

"I see you've been practicing." He commented.

You smiled.

He made his way to the simi-empty dinning room where a young man and a child sat. The man had a smile on his face as he listened to the small child, who from what I could understand was telling him about her day at daycare. I couldn't help but feel guilty. Trying not to think about it, I began throwing out old samples and displays that once sat in the display case, though I over heard Dk politely tell them they had to leave.

"Excuse me, sir.." He started.

Trying my best to make it seem like I wasn't there I slouched down behind the case. Listening to the small conversation between the two men, peaking around the corner. The male looked up at Dk, worry on his face as he pulled the small girl closer. she looked to be around three while the male looked to be in his late twenties. He had short brown hair and what looked to be a faint beard growing. He was wearing an old torn-up off white sweater, ripped black jeans, and a gray scarf. The girl on the other hand had oily black hair that was pulled into a ponytail. She was wearing a hoodie that was three sizes too large for her, an ankle length navy blue skirt, and a red bennie.

"...I'm sorry to say that's its closing time and you'll have to leave." Dk finished.

"Ah, I'm sorry. We hadn't realized what time it was. haha!" The man said. Standing up to pick up the small child only to sit her down and begun putting her winter attire on.

"Okay. Stay safe." Dk smiled and started walking back to the kitchen putting the freshly made batter into the fridge for early shift staff tomorrow and begun washing the dishes.

"Daddy, are we gonna sleep under the bridge again?"

My breath hitched, and i slowly stood up looking at the child who was now putting on gloves while he wrapped the scarf around her neck. As she looked up to him warmly.

"N-no sweetheart we'll find somewhere."

Once his stuff was on he picked her up and made their way out into the harsh weather with one last glance into the kitchen, making eye contact with me for the first time.

_________________________

"Welp that concludes our shift.. I owe you one Dk. Again."

Dokyeom chuckled putting his coat on. "You sure do. Now if you'll excuse me I have a wife and daughter that are waiting for me. The wife especially." He winked.

"Gross, really Dokyeom? Really."

He smiled before clocking out, telling you to drive safe and walking out the door. I followed his steps only there was no one to tell drive safe and I had the extra step that included locking the doors.

"Shit, it really is cold out here... Doesn't help that my car is halfway down the fuckn' street." I muttered to myself.

Sitting in my car I couldn't help but think back to the man and his child. What she said to him specifically.

'Daddy, are we gonna sleep under the bridge again?'

Resting my head on the steering wheel I sighed. "Why didn't i say anything..."

Once I was done pondering and beating myself up about the past I started on my way home. Though the road I usually take was blocked off so I had to take the Sketchy way, through the alley and under the bridge. When it was in sight I calmed my nerves with some low-fi music my friend Yoongi produced. As I was driving through I saw someone- no someones. A familiar red bennie was huddled into something. I couldn't help but pull up next to them, driving slowly. Rolling my window down only to be greeted by snow and cold air assaulting my face.

"Excuse me. Do you need somewhere to stay?" I had to yell just to be heard over the yelps and roars of the winter air.

Man stopped and so did I, the little girls grip remained tight on her fathers arm.

"Uh. No, thank you we'll be fine.." He responded looking down.

"Daddy I'm cold.." She said and as a response he begun taking off his coat only to wrap it around her small frame, because she had one of his arms he could only use one to keep himself warm.

"Come on, its suppose to drop below freezing tonight, and if she's gonna have your coat.. You'll freeze... You'll both freeze."

He sniffled before telling her to get in the car.

"Come one Haru, get in the car... Hurry sweetie."

You smiled unlocking the doors, he sat in the back with her.

"You can get in the front."

"No, its fine." He quickly responded.

_________________________

"Here, I'll go make you two some hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate! Yay!" The child now known as Haru yelled in excitement.

"Here let me help you princess.." He said taking her shoes and wet clothes off.

When you came back you set the three cups on the table and warmed up some left over egg soup.

"Do you have some dry clothes? Haru's are wet.." He said sounding timid and a bit hesitant.

"Uh ya.. Um, can you keep an eye on the food? You know to make sure it doesn't boil over."

"Sure.. Come here haru, and stop bouncing around on her furniture." He said sternly.

You chuckled walking to your room looking through your night gowns looking for one that was, shall we say appropriate for someone of her age.

"Finally..." You sighed.

'to the moon and back.' It read.

You started looking through the stuff your late husband left behind, and came up with a shirt that said 'proud husband of a kick ass military wife!' And some sweats. Quickly folding them you made you way into the kitchen where Haru and her father waited.

"Oh you could have made yourselves a bowl.."

"Oh, sorry we didn't want to touch anything..."

Making your way to the cabinet s to get them a bowl. "No no its fine im sure you two are starving anyways.. Here are the clothes. I found some for you to..."

He smiled slightly, "I'm Jeonghan by the way.."

"Im y/n. So that's your daughter?" You smiled as he picked Haru up and begun to dress her.

"Y-yes, her mother died at birth and things went down hill from there.."

"Oh, I'm so sorry.."

Jeonghan looked at you "I saw a picture of a man.. Assuming by the shirt you cave me your married?"

You cleared your throat. "Um no he died 2 years ago.."

He stared at you before apologising profusely.

"Heh.. No its fine, I guess I'm over it anyway.. I didn't stop and cry when going through his stuff.." You chuckled.

"No one ever truly gets over the loss of a loved one..."

He looks at you. You shake your head. "That makes two of us.."