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nightsandrewrites · 7 months ago

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Illyrian Males

Pairing: Cazriel x Reader

Summary: Cassian and Azriel make a bet to see who can get Y/N first. But is she already seeing someone?

Word count: 13k oops

Warnings: M/M before you get to readers involvement, smut, 18+, dubious consent if you squint

a/n: It wasn’t meant to be this long but I couldn’t keep the bat boys off each other so…

———————————————————————

You swirl the last of your drink around your glass, enjoying the cool night air flowing through the House of Wind. The door to the balcony lies open where Feyre and Mor just left with a sleeping Nyx. Mor was escorting Feyre and the Prince of the Night Court back to the River House before returning home herself.

You know the High Lord would have escorted his lady himself had Feyre not insisted. “Stay and enjoy more time with your family, you work too hard.”

Now it was only the Ilyrrian brothers left with you in the small sitting area. You watch as Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel grin at each other like children who are up to no good. It warms your heart to see them happy and spending time together after everything you’ve all been through. You decided it’s time you excused yourself for bed and let the boys have their night together. You down the rest of your drink before standing.

“I’m off to bed, keep the volume down you lot.” You give them a smile and turn, making your way down the hall.

Cassian watches Y/N leave. His initial stare is innocent, noting her stride and balance, indicating to him how much she’s had to drink. But as she retreats down the hall he can’t help that his eyes fall to her swaying hips. The dress she’s wearing perfectly hugging her curves and the thought of tearing it of-

“You’re fucking Y/N” Rhysand states and Cassian whips his head round to him. Rhysand’s expression is relaxed as his eyes flick between him and Azriel. As if he had stated something as obvious as ‘the sky was blue’’.

Cassian looks across at Azriel. He was sure the same confused expression was plastered on his own face.

You fucked her? Cassian asks through their shared mating bond.

Of course not. Did you? He questions back.

Cassian doesn’t bother replying, he knows Azriel can feel his confusion and suspicion all the way down the bond.

“What are you talking about?” Cassian turns back to Rhys who was silently watching their exchange.

“In the hundreds of years I’ve known you, both of you, I’ve never seen either of you look at someone like that,” he nods to the hallway you disappeared down “except each other.” He pulls his drink to his lips, hiding a small smirk.

Cassian wills his cheeks not to warm, having been caught out lusting after someone who wasn’t his mate. But Rhysand had said both of them? Had Azriel also been watching you leave with more than just friendly affection in his eyes? He spares a glance to Azriel who is already watching him, head tilted in consideration.

“Well I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but you need to get your eyes checked old man.” Cassian stands and pats Rhysands shoulder as he moves past him to the small bar against the wall. He really needed to be doing something with his hands right now and pouring another drink was the perfect excuse to get out from under the scrutinising eyes of his mate and High Lord.

“My mistake.” He chuckles and quickly moves on to discussing plans for a boys night out.

————————————————————————

Azriel towels off his damp hair in the mirror. It was now well into the early hours of the morning, Rhysand having only just headed home for the night. He probably should have just gone to bed, but he does his best thinking while soaking in warm waters.

He tracks one of his shadows in the mirror as it swirls up his bicep and curls around his ear, whispering to him.

Cassian leaving his room….

Another shadow brushes the back of his neck

...coming to see us.

Azriel always used his shadows as sentinels, guarding the hallway outside his room. As much as he would like to give Cassian his privacy, his shadows seemed to be just as obsessed with the Illyrian warrior as he was. Often reporting his comings and goings without request.

He wraps a towel around his waist and moves into his bedroom looking for something to wear. With trained Illyrian hearing he could now pick up on Cassian’s footfalls down the hall. They’d kept their separate rooms, as no one except Rhysand was aware of their mating bond. Their ability to communicate silently through the bond was a massive advantage in combat, they didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about it and that information spreading across courts. But they couldn’t have really hoped to keep it from Rhysand with how often he was inside their heads.

Azriel senses Cassian open the door and walk in as he’s pulling underwear out of a draw.

“I’m changing asshole” Azriel glares at him over a shoulder.

“What? Have something I haven’t seen before?” Cassian rolls his eyes and throws himself into the armchair in the corner of the room, letting his head fall back in exhaustion.

Azriel takes a moment to appreciate Cassian’s bare torso and follows the cut of his muscles that disappear beneath soft grey pants. He drops his eyes to the floor noticing his shadows already slithering along to the General. Cassian lifts his head and looks him up and down waiting for him to drop his towel. Azriel feels his cheeks warm under the intense gaze. He racks his mind for something to distract Cassian with, that would allow him to change in peace, and remembers Rhysand’s comment about Y/N tonight.

“So, you’ve finally grown bored of me and have moved on to eye fucking our roomate?” Azriel raises an eyebrow at him. That did the trick. Cassian drops his face to the floor where shadows now swirl around his ankles, slowly climbing his covered calves. Azriel quickly drops his towel and pulls on his underwear. He softly closes the drawer with his hip, he wouldn’t need anymore clothing tonight with the heater of an Illyrian that was Cassian sharing his bed.

“Rhysand definitely didn’t think it was just me.” Cassian lifts his eyes back to Azriel, cheeks flushed with the slightest of pink. Azriel makes his way to the edge of the bed before replying.

“So what if I was?” Azriel leans back on his hands, shoulders flexing under his weight. Cassian’s eyebrows shoot up. He stands and strides across the room, shadows still clinging to him, almost at his waist now.

“Are you saying I don’t satisfy you anymore?” Cassian bends over him, leaning large strong hands on Azriel’s thighs. Azriel feels him squeeze ever so slightly.

“Maybe she’d actually be able to follow instructions.” Azriel smirks up at him. Referencing all the times that Cassian has failed to follow his commands. Hands up, no touching until I say. Stay quiet baby, you don’t want the others to hear you. And Azriel’s personal favourite. Don’t finish until I tell you to.

Azriel leans forward, brushing his lips against Cassian’s ear as he whispers “Or maybe I keep imagining her lips wrapped around your dick as I take you from behind.” Azriel watches the shiver that runs down Cassian’s spine. He slides his hand up Cassian’s inner thigh, scattering the shadows there, until he lands on the Illyrians rock hard length.

Cassian suddenly pushes him backwards and Azriel slides further up the bed. He climbs the mattress pushing Azriel’s legs apart as he settles himself between them. His pupils are blown wide and his wings pump once behind him in a show of dominance.

“You think her tongue, her warm pussy, would have you moaning the way you do when you’re fucked out on my cock?” Cassian growls as he shoves down his pants, releasing himself from their restraint. He pumps himself and Azriel can only bite his lip in anticipation as he watches Cassian’s hand make two long strokes.

Azriel bucks his hips up, pinned under Cassian’s hungry gaze. Cassian’s lips raise in a half smirk and he swiftly removes Azriel’s underwear. His eyes never leave Azriel’s as he slowly reaches out to the bottle on the nightstand and lubes his fingers. Azriel knows he’s doing it on purpose, wants him to squirm for a moment before giving him what he wants. He finally leans over Azriel, reaches down and slowly circles his hole. Azriel closes the distance between them, capturing Cassian's bottom lip between his teeth, a silent plea to hurry up.

Cassian pushes inside him with two fingers, pumping quickly, already spreading him open. Azriel drops his head back into the pillow with a moan. Cassian knows he likes to take his pleasure with a side of pain, so wouldn’t take too much care in opening him up. Azriel shifts his legs up a little giving Cassian better access.

“That smart mouth of yours has nothing left to say?” Cassian murmurs against his skin as he kisses down his exposed neck. Azriel only lets out a soft moan in response.

It’s only a couple of more strokes with skilled fingers before Cassian’s lining his head up with Azriel’s ass. He enters him in one swift motion that has Azriel arching off the bed. Cassian sets an unrelenting pace that has him seeing white behind his eyes. A calloused hand wraps around Azriel’s length and gives him swift pumps that match the deep strokes inside him.

Azriel can barely think straight with Cassian consuming every nerve. Cassian shifts back on his knees a little, dragging Azriel with him.

“You think Y/N could read your body like this?” Cassian continues his unwavering thrusts as his grip on Azriel’s cock tightens. Azriel feels it then. Feels soft gliding strokes across the inner part of his right wing and he can’t stop the whine that escapes him.

Cassian, the cocky bastard, chuckles above him. Azriel reels in the last of his focus to retort.

“I wouldn’t need her to, she’d be riding my face right now.” Cassian’s dick twitches inside him at the comment and the Illyrian above him lets out a low possessive growl. He pulls out of Azriel and quickly flips him on his front, lifts his hips and thrusts back into him hard. Cassian bends over him trapping his wrists to the bed.

“Now you get to cum untouched.” Cassian sneers at him.

Azriel has lost the power of speech, the new deeper angle has him coming undone. Every stroke has Cassian dragging over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. Azriel isn’t concerned how his comments might land with Cassian. Every time he mentions Y/N he can feel Cassian’s lust flaring through the bond.

A few more snaps of Cassian’s hips have them both exploding, Azriel moaning into his pillow before they both collapse in a pile of sweaty limbs.

“Now I’m going to need another bath.” Azriel huffs, rolling onto his side facing Cassian.

“Sucks to be you” Cassian smirks and Azriel punches his bicep before leaning in and kissing him gently.

————————————————————————

Cassian pulls back and speaks into Azriel’s mind, too exhausted for more words.

It’s weird isn’t it, that we both started… noticing Y/N at the same time?

Just noticing? Azriel chuckles. Is that all it is, is it?

You know what I mean. Cassian physically rolls his eyes at him.

It is a little strange. Azriel admits as he rolls on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. Too bad for you she would pick me over you.

As if! Cassian gives his arm a shove with his elbow.

Want to bet? Loser has to go down on the winner for a month straight. Azriel turns his head back to Cassian, eyebrows raised in challenge. Cassian quickly glances down between the Shadowsingers legs. He quickly debates how much damage Azriel’s considerable length could do in that amount of time.

Make it two weeks and you’re on. Cassian narrows his eyes. Are we talking, taking her to bed? He lets his features fall then and lets his wariness flow through the bond. He’s unsure how’d he feel taking someone to bed without his mate.

Let’s just go with getting her to agree on a date. Azriel reaches up and strokes the back of his fingers down Cassian’s stubbled jawline. Pure love vibrates through him from the threads that lay between them.

You’re on. Cassian leans forward and seals the bet with a quick kiss.

———————————————————————

A week passes and Cassian can’t stop thinking about the bet they made. He didn’t want to act too soon, didn’t want Azriel to think him too eager in going after Y/N. But who was he kidding? He found himself back in that sitting room, weekly drinks in full swing, watching Y/N bite her lip, holding in a laugh to the story Amren was telling her about the boys.

You’re drooling. Azriel teases down the bond. Cassian forces his eyes away from her and to the drink in his lap.

I am not. He scoffs. He looks up at Azriel sitting across from him, mischievously staring at him with knowing eyes. A bead of condensation runs down Azriel’s glass and he watches as Az strokes a long finger up the side wiping it away. God those fingers. He can almost feel how’d they brush his skin, how they’d pull at his hair and dig into his hips. How Cassian would take Azriel’s finger into his mouth, running his tongu-

Unless you want me to show you what these fingers can do to you right here, in front of everyone, I suggest you stop. Azriel’s eye’s darken as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Who’s drooling now? Cassian smirks at him.

Y/N’s laughter brings him back to the room. The others are almost doubled over at the story Amren just finished. Rhys starts topping up glasses with the bottle of wine in his hand, but Y/N holds up a hand when he reaches her.

“I think I need some water and maybe a snack.” She explains as she stands and heads through the door and down the hall to the kitchen.

So you haven’t talked to Y/N yet. Worried she’s going to say no to you? Azriel has obviously recovered from the images Cassian had thrown down the bond moments ago.

You haven’t either. Cassian quips back.

Oh no, I’m happy for you to go first. I want to give you a fighting chance. Azriel teases. Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, puts down his glass and makes his way to the door.

As he’s leaving he feels a mix of amusement and curiosity flow through the bond between them. Followed by a small tug of jealousy. Cassian smirks to himself, Azriel should be jealous, he was about to lay the charm on so thick, no fae would say no to him. But as he reaches the hallway he turns and winks.

Fuck me later asshole. And watches as Azriel visibly relaxes at his words.

————————————————————————

You slice the block of cheese in front of you, carefully avoiding your fingers. You can’t imagine the ribbing you’d get from the boys if you turned up to training tomorrow with a bandaged hand from slicing cheese.

Your vision wobbles ever so slightly and you decide it’s probably best not to push your drunken state and carefully put the knife down. You slide a couple of pieces of bread and cheese onto a plate and turn to go back to the sitting room when you find an Illyrian in the way.

“Want some bread and cheese?” You offer out the plate to Cassian.

“Sure.” He smiles broadly. He enters the kitchen completely, pulling his wings in tight through the doorway. He takes one look at the few pieces on the plate and scoops every last one into his hands.

“Cass!” You smack his shoulder lightly as he turns away chuckling, throwing pieces into his mouth.

“Sit, I’ll get you some more. Wouldn’t want you to slice a finger off with that cutting technique.” He gives you a wink as you take a seat at one of the stools pulled up to the high table in the centre of the kitchen. How long had he been standing there watching you struggle?

You take a moment to focus on Cassian at work. Broad shoulders and muscled biceps were on display tonight through a tight black t-shirt. Muscles under the tan skin of his forearms ripple as he makes light work of preparing your midnight snack. Your eyes start tracing the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that cover his arms, you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you could count, so you know where they swirl across his chest. But beyond that, where those lines lead you could only imagine… No you shouldn’t be imagining. You catch yourself having leant forward on the table following the imagined lines and play it off as intense interest in his slicing technique.

You can not be having those kinds of thoughts about one of your best friends. Someone you lived in the same house as and someone who was fucking one of your other best friends. Of course they don’t know you know that. You don’t even know how you’d begin that conversation.

Hey Az, hey Cass. I was heading back from the library late one night when one of your shadows caught my eye. It seemed to be beckoning me and I thought something might be wrong so I followed it. Turns out, when I approached the sound of your hushed voices, they became moans and I thought you guys were either going at it or one you had finally decided to stab the other..

Okay stabbing was not the imagery you needed right now. Regardless, that was months ago and ever since you’ve been picking up more and more on the looks the two Illyrians share throughout a regular day. Something was definitely going on between the two of them and you weren’t going to be the one to bring it up.

Cassian pulls over the empty plate you discarded on the table between you. He piles on pieces of cheese and bread, but instead of pushing it back towards you he picks it up and walks around the table. He stops right beside you and you turn to face him.

He places the plate down beside you and leans on his elbow against the table.

“Sorry I stole your snack.” He pouts jokingly at you.

“Apology accepted.” You say as you pluck a piece off the plate. “Would you like some more?” You offer him after downing two more pieces and picking up a third.

“I’d love some.” He leans forward slightly and opens his mouth for you. His playfulness catches you off guard but you quickly recover and reach out to hold a piece of bread and cheese to his mouth.

He takes them from your fingers and before you can pull away, he catches your thumb as well. Without breaking eye contact his teeth gently graze the pad of your thumb. You freeze a little and let out a small gasp that you hope he doesn’t notice. He smirks and leans back.

“An interesting snack of choice.” He nods down at the plate, a smile still playing in his eyes.

“Uh.” You stumble a little bit, trying to recover from whatever the Hel that was. “It was just what was lying around.”

“The best midnight snack is the one that takes no effort.” He pushes off the table and heads to the next room that holds an ice chest for the cold foods. It gives you a minute to clear your head, you turn back to the plate to determine what exactly just happened when movement catches in the corner of your eye. You turn just in time to see two of Azriel’s shadows cross paths in the darkness of the doorway.

What kind of game do these two think they’re playing? Well if that’s how it’s going to be, then game on.

Cassian returns to the kitchen, a bowl of strawberries in one arm and a smaller bowl of fresh cream in the other. He was about to make this way too easy for you.

He returns to stand next to you, placing the bowels on the table pushing the plate of bread and cheese out of the way. He picks up a strawberry, dips it into the cream and brings it up to his lips.

“See, so easy and I could eat this whole bowel in one sitting.” He places almost the whole strawberry into his mouth and bites it off before the stem.

You follow his lead and bite through a cream dipped strawberry. It really was delicious, you might even make this a new favourite. You both sit in silence for a few minutes, taking turns dipping and eating strawberries.

Azriel once taught you that sometimes all you had to do to get someone to talk was to sit quietly and wait for them to fill the silence. As if on queue…

“So I was thinking.” Cassian picks up a strawberry and rolls it between his fingers. “How about you go to dinner with me and I can show you some of my other favourite food combinations?” He glances up at you. So he wants to take you out to dinner? You might be playing the game now but you still weren’t sure what the end goal was. Had they caught you staring a little too long at Azriel’s chiselled torso during training? Maybe their aim was your total and utter humiliation to teach you a lesson about coveting something that wasn’t yours?

“Oh, uh.” You fake a little flustering. Okay so maybe you didn’t need to fake being flustered when an Illyrian, that literally looked like a winged god, was asking you on a date.

“I’m flattered but I’ve actually been seeing someone recently.” You let the lie roll off your tongue and pretend to be extremely occupied selecting the perfect strawberry.

“Really?” Cassian straightens and you don’t miss the way his wings puff up a little. “Why haven’t you introduced him to everyone?”

You shrug and pick up one of the largest strawberries, coating it in a thick layer of cream.

“Oh you know, it’s not that serious yet. Just a bit of fun.” You bring the strawberry to your mouth and the cream is already beginning to run onto your fingers.

You stick out your tongue and run a long stripe through the cream. You feel Cassian stiffen next to you. Just as you suspected, way too easy. You quickly finish off your strawberry, leaving you with two fingers covered in cream. You suck them into your mouth and turn to Cassian with wide innocent eyes as you pull them out past your lips.

“Thanks for the midnight snack Cass.” You smile and hop off the stool and leave him staring after you in the middle of the kitchen.

————————————————————————

Another shadow slips through the cracked door. It slides its way along to join the others currently swirling around Azriel, slumped in an armchair in the corner of the room. With no candles lit in Cassian’s bedroom, he may as well be invisible.

The newly returned shadow slides around his neck.

Gone, Cassian alone.

Seconds later Cassian pushes open the door and then clicks it shut. He strides across the room, pieces of his hair coming loose of their bindings as he braces his hands on the desk, leaning over the mess of paperwork.

“Didn’t go as you planned then huh?” Azriel speaks up from his shadowy hiding place.

Cassian’s shoulders stiffen in surprise but quickly relax as he turns.

“How many times have I told you not to do that?” Cassian leans back against the desk folding his arms across his chest.

Azriel commands all of the shadows to disperse.

“Just because you got rejected doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.” Azriel smirks at him. Enjoying for a moment that Cassian finally found someone who would say no to him.

“Please, she didn’t reject me, she’s seeing someone.” Cassian rolls his eyes. And fuck the way Azriel wants to bend him over and spank his ass red raw for doing so.

A shadow glides over Azriels shoulder.

Never seen her with a male.

“Do you think she really is seeing someone though? I’ve never seen or scented another male around her.” Azriel crosses his ankles out in front him, chin resting on intertwined hands.

“I don’t know. Maybe she wants to keep it quiet. But one thing I do know, she wanted to say yes. You should have smelt her Az.” Cassian grins widely. Flashes of strawberries, cream and Y/N’s tongue filter through their bond.

Azriel is left stunned for a moment at the images he’s being fed. Cassian pushes off the desk and sits opposite Azriel on the end of the bed.

“Well maybe she was holding out for another Illyrian.” Azriel teases him. “I hope you’re ready to deliver on that bet.”

Cassian scowles and then another memory is bursting through the bond. Cassian has Y/N’s thumb in his mouth, grazing his teeth along it before flicking it with his tongue. Her eyes are blown wide and her breaths are short and uneven.

Azriel growls then, pushes from his seat and is standing in front Cassian in two long strides.

“If you wanted to put something in your mouth baby, you should have just said so.” Azriel towers over him. He watches as Cassian runs his tongue along his bottom lip, Azriel can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, probably weighing up the risks of continuing to be a brat.

Azriel reaches out and grabs his chin firmly before he has time to decide.

“Be good, and open for me.” Azriel murmurs softly.

Cassian drops his mouth open into Azriel’s hand. Azriel strokes along his jaw with his thumb. His other hand reaches into his pants freeing himself.

He rests the head of his cock on Cassian’s awaiting tongue. The warmth of Cassian’s mouth immediately shoots through him and he can’t help the small groan he lets out.

Cassian sits with his jaw slack, looking up at Azriel with round innocent eyes.

“Please, don’t act like you don’t know what to do with it.” Azriel scoffs. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.” Azriel releases Cassian’s jaw and slides his hand to the top of Cassian’s neck.

Cassian’s lips wrap around him then, a calloused hand gripping along his base. Azriel moans as his tongue laps at the precum beading at his head. For a moment he loses himself to the warmth of Cassian’s mouth, letting his head fall back. His focus narrows in on the tightness of Cassian’s grip, on the way his tongue rolls around him.

“Think you can take all of me tonight baby?” He flicks his eyes down to Cassian's head, bobbing up and down his length. The only response he gets is a muffled groan that sends vibrations through his dick, Azriel bites his lip to stifle his moan.

He leans forward entering Cassian’s throat, slowly at first allowing him to adjust and pull back if he needs. But Cassian relaxes and takes every inch that Azriel gives him without complaint. Azriel moves a hand to the front of Cassian's throat, feeling the bulge of himself sliding deeper. He could come undone right then and there but he knows he has a task to do tonight. Knows he needs to smooth over the bruises to Cassian's oversized ego after your earlier rejection.

“Look at you Cass, no one else could take me like this.” Azriel murmurs. A tear breaks the corner of Cassian’s eye at the strain of taking his length. Azriel swipes out a thumb, smoothing it over. He starts rocking back and forth down Cassian’s throat.

“Keep those eyes on me, want to see how beautiful you are.” Cassian eyes flick up to Azriel through damp lashes. “Fuck you were made for me baby. Your body is perfect, your mouth, those hands, that ass are all for me.” He growls. In response Cassian tightens his throat around Azriel and that has him coming undone with a moan. He shoots white strands down Cassian’s throat and coats the inside of his mouth. Cassian laps at Azriel’s over sensitive head, cleaning every inch as he slowly pulls out.

Azriel leans down and kisses him deeply. He can taste himself on Cassian’s lips. He drops to his knees between Cassian’s legs and finally releases Cassian’s dick. He gives it a few quick pumps to relieve him of the building tension.

“Fuck, Az!” Cassian’s moan is scratchy, his voice wired out after having Azriel down his throat. And damn does that have Azriel’s dick throbbing again.

“Lay back, let me take care of you.” Azriel pushes gently on Cassian’s abs, but he needs no encouragement to fall back onto the sheets.

Azriel leans forward and runs his tongue from base to tip. He quickly works Cassian to the edge, he knows every nerve, has them mapped out in his mind and traces them with ease. When Cassian is bucking up into him, forcing him to relax his throat, to focus his breathing, he reaches up and strokes that place on the inside of Cassian’s warm leathery wings.

“Azriel!” Cassian cums through clenched teeth. Azriel is sure to suck him dry, before stuffing him back into his pants.

He rises and leans over Cassian, wings splayed.

“Now let’s see what that pretty mouth craves.” Azriel smirks. Cassian closes his hazel eyes, focusing. Racing down the bond, Azriel catches a montage of all the times Cassian has knelt before him. His own cock down Cassian’s throat or in his hands and Azriel’s heart pounds at how beautiful Cassian makes him look in his memories. Azriel crashes his lips into Cassian's, breaking the flow of images. He sends his own thoughts down the bond.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Cassian’s response is singular.

Mine.

————————————————————————

Two weeks later you're in the training ring with your favourite Illyrians. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a little extra swagger to your step these last weeks. You’d beat the boys at whatever game they had tried to play with you. Hadn’t let yourself be caught out by your little fantasies that they may have started suspecting. It gave your ego a much needed boost.

You refocused on the Shadowsinger just in time to block the blade that came swinging down at you.

“You’re distracted.” Azriel says straightening. “Do you need me to ask Cass to leave?”

You both look over to Cassian’s slumped form against the far wall. He was sitting shirtless, legs stretched out in front him. You’d all stripped down layers during the heat of training, it left the Illyrians shirtless and you down to a sweat soaked singlet. Your eyes followed sweat beads rolling over heaving muscles as he caught his breath.

“Please the only thing he could distract me with is his overinflated ego taking up too much space.” You wave your hand around gesturing to the air.

“Ha ha you’re both very funny.” Cassian says dryly. He picks up the towel next to him, pushes off the ground and walks out of the room without another word.

If you were being honest it wasn’t the general who was distracting you today but rather the Illyrian right in front of you. If Cassian relied on glowing looks and charm to win him affection then Azriel relied on broody arrogance and touch. From the moment he walked in this morning he’d been upon you. Small brushes of a calloused hand correcting your grip, taps to your side to widen your stance, a hand held out and gripped just a little too long as he helped you stand from a fall.

You returned to your combat. Making quick slashes forcing Azriel onto his back foot. But he was far more skilled than you were and you weren't stupid enough to think you’d won the upper hand. You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for him to make his move when you felt the cool whisper against your skin. A dark shadow curls around your neck and slides along your collarbone. It’s quickly joined by another sliding around your ear. You don’t flinch. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. You respond with a thrust of your sword which he easily dodges with a small pivot. Before you have a chance to retract your arm a shadow curls around your wrist and squeezes.

Your breath stutters and then your cheeks flush, because you know how closely he monitors an opponent's breathing. Suddenly his leg swings out and catches the back of your knee. You drop your blade as you fall backwards trying to regain your footing but a muscular arm catches you before you hit the ground.

Azriel holds you up a foot from the ground like it’s nothing, grinning at you. And suddenly you realise maybe the game wasn’t over after all. Maybe Azriel, the cunning spymaster he is, was just lying in wait for the right opportunity to mess with you all this time.

“Cheater” you glare up at him.

“You should expect an opponent to use every tool in their arsenal” He chuckles softly.

He stands up, rightening you both but keeps an arm wrapped around you, a hand resting at the small of your back.

“I guess you need to resort to that if you’re worried you’ve lost your touch and were about to lose to little old me.” You grin wickedly, folding your arms across your chest.

You catch darkness flash across his features and then you see nothing at all as a shadow wraps itself over your eyes.

You drop your arms to your side, your body automatically preparing for a fight that isn't coming. You never feared Azriel, only left awed at what he was capable of. You feel a brush of air and then the fan of his breath on your neck as he leans in from behind you.

“Wait until you have to fight me blind sweetheart, no one’s ever walked away from that.” He whispers softly.

You work to calm your stuttering heart, with your vision gone you’re forced to focus on the sound of his voice and the movement of his body with a new found intensity.

“Even Cass?” You question, hoping to distract him from your compromised position.

“Ha, I guess Cass has come close.” He chuckles and allows the shadow to fall away from your face. He steps around in front of you again.

“Only Rhys has ever bested me in a fight of total darkness, but who would expect anything less from the High Lord of the Night Court.” He shrugs in acceptance.

“Well how about a heads up next time you bring shadows to a sword fight?” You bend down, scoop up your fallen sword and start to make your way to the weapons rack.

“Let me make it up to you, have drinks with me tonight?” He follows closely behind you.

“Like a date?” You ask. This was starting to drive you mad. Were they really so cruel as to torture you just for having a little crush. What you wouldn’t give to have either Illyrian be genuinely interested in you. Azriel had to be asking you out. If it was any other day it would just be a casual; Drinks tonight, you in? not the mystery riddled Have drinks with me tonight? in that low sultry tone of his.

“Why not?” He asks. You can feel him standing right behind you as you secure the training sword on the rack.

“I’m actually seeing someone, but thanks.” You parroted what you said to Cassian a couple of weeks ago. But it doesn’t have the same gusto, instead you can hear your own voice laced with defeat.

“Really? Because I don’t think you are. I think you’re lying.” He teases. Your back stiffens, you can sense that he’s still only a step behind you. Did he, did they, really think that no one could be genuinely interested in you? Of course he wasn’t wrong. It had been an age since your last real date but you hadn’t really made yourself available. Preferring to throw all your energy into your work, your training and your family.

You decided then you were going to do something that would probably be considered dangerous. But it was time you got back at Azriel for all the touches; from him, from his shadows, during training. You quickly turn around to face him before you lose your nerve.

“Sorry to burst your bubble then, obviously you're not the great spymaster you think you are.” You give him a smile and go to leave the training ring. As you step around him though, you intentionally don’t leave enough space, forcing your bare shoulder to brush against the warm leathery surface of his wing.

He growls, a low feral sound that rolls from deep in his chest and for a second you think you might not actually make it back into the house alive. You don’t stop walking though and you don’t look back as you head inside.

————————————————————————

The bedroom door slams back against the wall with a crack and Cassian freezes with a spoon halfway to his mouth.

“She should be fucking dead.” Azriel snarls as he strides into the room. Cassian wondered how it was going up in the training ring, had waited in Azriel’s room to find out and by the looks of the spymaster, not very well.

“Did she insult your shadows?” Cassian smirks, placing his bowl down and standing from the armchair. It wasn’t often that something or someone got Azriel this worked up. Cassian couldn’t wait to hear exactly what Y/N had said.

Azriel glares at him and then suddenly Y/N’s face is flashing down the bond. Cassian sees through Azriel’s memory how she secured her sword to the rack, turned and insulted Azriel’s skills as a Spymaster. Cassian chuckles, he’s going soft if he’s getting that worked up over that little comment. But then she brushes past him and he feels it like he’s actually there in the moment, she…

“Your wing?” Cassian stands gaping at him. Even though Y/N wasn’t Illyrian herself she knew how they were affected by their wings. She knew that outside of healing, and training to fly as a youngling, nobody touched an Illyrian’s wings except their most intimate partners.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “Well she’s not afraid to break the rules is she.”

“I almost broke something.” Azriel grumbled.

“I’m surprised you didn’t retaliate, you could have had her pinned, cowering on the floor in two seconds.” Cassian shrugged.

“Slight problem.” Azriel grimaces and motions to his hips. Cassian can now make out the bulge straining Azriel’s leathers. He doesn’t let Cassian respond as he storms for the bathroom. “Shower. Now.”

Cassian follows him into the bathroom and leans against the door, watching Azriel’s back as he practically tears his clothes off.

“You better be undressed by the time I turn around.” He says over his shoulder. Cassian rolls his eyes but starts striping down. Y/N really managed to get him in a mood.

“Roll your eyes again and see what happens.” Azriel growls and then steps into the shower, steam already filling the small room.

Azriel likes to be in control. And as much as Cassian likes to push his buttons, to force him to let go sometimes, he can’t help the small thrill that runs through him at the thought of his mate in his most dominant state.

He steps into the shower and Azriel has him pinned to the wall in an instant. Azriel’s mouth is on his, then on his throat sucking and nibbling and then he drops to Cassian’s chest swirling his tongue around his nipple. Cassian lets out a soft moan and drops his head back against the wall. His hips make an unintentional thrust, silently begging for Azriel's mouth elsewhere.

Azriel straightens, sliding a hand up Cassian's chest and wrapping it around his throat.

You’ll be good for me, won’t you Cas? Azriel’s dark voice whispers through Cassian's mind. One hand still wrapped around his neck the other trails down the broad muscles of his abs and grips his cock.

You’ll let me take you. Let me fill you and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow?

For a second Cassian considers a snarky response but he sees the shadows swirling in Azriel’s eyes. He knows what Azriel wants from him. Not to be Cassian the battle worn warrior or Cassian the Illyrian General, but the Cassian who would drop to his knees and do anything for him. The Cassian that exists only for the Shadowsinger.

Yours Az. Cassian practically whimpers back. Always need you. Please.

Fuck Azriel’s barely touched him and he can hardly string a proper sentence together.

Good baby. Azriel practically purrs in his mind and then steps away from him. Instantly Cassian wants to reach for him, to feel Azriel’s body against his, but he resists.

Turn around, hands on the wall. Azriel commands him.

Cassian obeys. Placing both hands to the cool wall as warm water rushes down half his body.

He only just settles his stance when Azriel suddenly enters him with two fingers causing him to cry out in pleasure. He’s not given time to adjust as Azriel begins moving, stretching him.

That’s it, let me hear how much you like it baby.

Cassian bites his bottom lip attempting to stifle his moans. Azriel removes his fingers and Cassian whines at the loss of contact and starts to turn to face him.

I said hands on the wall. Azriel's sharp voice winds through his mind.

Cassian obeys, forcing his palms firmly into the wall and gritting his teeth. When it came to intimacy Azriel couldn’t be more different to Cassian. He was all about the pleasure of delayed gratification but Cassian wanted everything yesterday. He hears Azriel shifting behind him, he leans his forehead on the wall for balance as he drops a hand between his legs.

Hands. On. The. Wall. Azriel’s voice growls and Cassian quickly returns his hand.

Suddenly Azriel enters him in one swift motion, forcing Cassian’s hips to buck forward. He groans at the intrusion and tears prick at the corner of his eyes as Azriel begins quick thrusts.

Look at you. The Great Illyrian General becomes a whimpering mess when he’s getting fucked on my cock.

The instant fullness is almost too much, he feels his feet slip along the floor. But he’s surprised to find that Azriel isn’t there with a steadying hand. Now that he thinks of it, the only point of contact is Azriel’s length sliding in and out of him. He needs more, he always needs more.

“Oh god, please” Cassian moans “Please touch me, let me move.”

“It’s not the gods you should be begging to.” Azriel growls.

“Please Az…” Cassian begs. Azriel hasn’t paused his quick thrusts once and Cassian can barely string a sentence together. A dark chuckle enters Cassian's mind.

Oh no, what was it you said? “Now you get to cum untouched”. Memories from weeks ago flood his vision when he had Azriel flipped over on the bed. He should have known the bastard would take his revenge for that sooner or later.

When Azriel thrusts forward again he brings his body with him, forcing Cassian flat to the wall, trapping his wrists with his own hands. Cassian’s cock is aching for attention and being pressed between the wall and his body is enough to have him on the edge.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.” Azriel whispers into his ear and Cassian’s vision goes white with pleasure as he releases his load onto himself. Azriel is right behind him as Cassian’s ass squeezes him to his release. There’s a moment when the only sound is their heavy panting and then Azriel grips Cassian's shoulders and spins him around. Suddenly Azriel’s lips are on his.

So good baby, always so good for me. Azriel’s voice purrs in his mind.

For you Az. He replies. Too exhausted to open his eyes just yet. He feels a cloth being dragged along his front, cleaning him.

You’re okay? I didn’t hurt you? Concern and fear floods down the bond from Azriel. Even as one of their tamer love making sessions, Azriel is always worried he’s pushed too hard, taken things too far.

Give me some credit Az. He flicks his eyes open and meets the intense gaze of the shadowsinger. You know I’ll take whatever you give me. He lifts a hand to brush along the Illyrians' chin. And I’m more than okay.

————————————————————————

The next day Azriel has laid out his knife collection on the dining room table for polishing. You hate when he polishes weapons where they eat. He doesn’t want you to know how worked up he got about the wing incident yesterday and this is a perfectly indirect way of getting back at you. Of course Cassian is sitting at the end, swinging in his chair with his feet on the table, not wanting to miss a second of the inbound confrontation.

Azriel doesn’t need his shadows to alert him to your footfalls in the hall as you approach.

You let out a small huff and he smirks softly before raising his face to meet you.

“Good morning Y/N” Azriel greets you cheerily.

“Why are you polishing on the table again, Spymaster?” Your eyes narrow at him.

The use of his formal title spurs something inside of him. His retort is on the tip of his tongue when Mor waltzes in.

“Morning!” She announces to the room but strides to your side. “You ready to go?” She holds out a bent arm to you.

“Where are you going?” Azriel tilts his head slightly, caught off guard in his lack of knowledge. There was no indication until now that you had any plans today.

“You didn’t tell them?” Mor looks to you in surprise.

“It’s none of their business.” You smile softly at Mor but hope she catches the wicked glint in your eye that begs her to play along. Thankfully she doesn’t elaborate any further about today's plans.

“Well Windhaven awaits.” She offers you her arm once again and you take it. You both hurry from the room but not before you hear Azriel's quiet questioning,

“Windhaven?”

And the snap of Cassian’s chair returning to the ground.

“Why didn’t you tell them about visiting the female Illyrians?” Mor whispers as you descend the stairs of the House of Wind far enough to pass the wards that restrict winnowing.

“You know they’ll assume the worst, probably worse than the worst.” She giggles at the realisation.

“Good.” You exhale. “They’ve been getting on my last nerve, they deserve it.” You join in with her soft giggles before darkness consumes you both.

“Why is she going to Windhaven?” Azriel turns on Cassian.

“I don’t know you’re the Spymaster, you tell me.” He snaps back.

“I’ve not heard anything. Rhys hasn’t mentioned anything, surely he would send one of us if anything was required there.” Azriel stands and paces along the room.

“Then maybe she wasn’t sent.” Cassian slumps back in his chair and stares absently at the ground. Azriel freezes and spins on his heel.

“If she wasn’t sent, why would she go?” He slams scarred hands down on the dining table.

Cassian flicks his eyes up to Azriel, a look of defeat flashes across his face.

“She did say she was seeing someone.” Cassian murmurs and the room becomes frighteningly still.

“There’s absolutely no way she is seeing a fucking Illyrian.” Azriel stands to his full height, wings shooting wide as he stabs a finger at the doorway you had disappeared through.

Cassian stands and gestures down at himself. “Az, we’re Illyrians.”

“You know what I fucking mean Cass” He strides forward and grasps the war lords shoulders “These are our Windhaven Illyrians, theres no civilised courting, there’s barely civilised conversation. Whoever it is, is going to tear her apart.” He moves his right hand to rest on Cassian’s cheek, letting the panic show on his face and flow through the bond. They’re going to tear our Y/N apart.

Cassian's eyes widen in realisation and fear now flows freely from both ends of the bond. There’s no conversation then, just the scuff of knives being sheathed as they prepare to leave for Windhaven.

————————————————————————

You appear in the middle of the Illyrian war camp and immediately bundle your cloak closer. The wind and snow were so harsh here you don’t know how the Illyrians could stand it. Squinting against the wind you can make out the small cottage that was your refuge just down the path. You give Mor a small nod of thanks and hurry on your way.

Your task today was to try and convince more female Illyrians to step into the training ring. To convince them that even if their wings had been clipped, and they could no longer fly in the legions, it was still worth knowing how to defend themselves. Many of them across the camps were still concerned about backlash even though their High Lord had been personally seeing to anyone who went against his rulings.

You almost reach the corner of the building when you hear the jeers.

————————————————————————

Azriel winnows them onto a small rooftop of one of the dozen semi permanent buildings in Windhaven. They immediately spot Y/N hurrying down the road. They were only a few moments behind her and Mor, as they had the advantage of quickly flying through the ward barriers of the House of Wind before winnowing.

They duck low to remain out of sight and watch as Y/N almost makes it to the small cottage on the outskirts of the camp before the jeers ring out. A group of four Illyrians jostle each other as they make their way over to where she has halted.

Cassian clutches at the metal roof causing it to groan as a low growl rips from his throat.

“If they touch her I’ll carve their hearts out of their chests myself.” He snarls.

Azriel firmly grasps the back of Cassian’s leathers to stop him from taking off.

“Calm yourself, they might be who she is here to see.” Azriel hates that he has to admit it. But now that he is here, has eyes on her, he’s in his element. Lying in the shadows, watching, waiting, that was his forte. Unfortunately Cassian was more act first, ask questions later.

Y/N stands stiffly as laughs ring out from the group. She looks comfortable enough. Her arms relaxed at her side, a soft smile on her lips. But in a moment everything shifts. The male at the front of the group reaches for her and she twists, drawing a blade in the same moment.

Azriel releases his grip on Cassian and launches for the group drawing weapons at the end of the road. He doesn’t know if Cassian has even left the rooftop yet as his fist collides with a stubbled face.

————————————————————————

You twist around, shove a small blade into the side of the Illyrian who lunged at you and stomp a heel into the back of his knee, causing him to fall forward. You catch the blur of another pair of black wings and your heart freezes for a moment. Four young, barely trained Illyrians you had a chance against, but another larger Illyrian joining the fray slashed your chances drastically. You almost fall to your knees when the glint of blue sirens catches the sun. Azriel was here, you don’t know how, but he was here. Suddenly the Illyrian at your feet is ripped from the ground and tossed down the path. Cassian stands in his place.

He reaches tentatively to your face as his eyes scan you widely.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He growls. You blink at him in surprise before replying.

“No, I’m fine.” You confess as Azriel expertly takes down the Illyrians that have turned on him. Cassian’s red siren’s are flaring, his chest heaving in deep breaths and you recognise the panic in his eyes. The panic for you.

“Cassian. I’m okay. You’re here with me.” You reassure him. He begins to relax and gives you a short nod.

“CASS!” Azriel bellows as the last of the group charges directly towards you. Cassian shoves you back and takes the brunt of the hit. Sending both Illyrians crashing through the wall of the cabin.

Suddenly a loud crack rings out across the camp and you swear time slows ever so slightly as Rhysand steps out of the darkness. His deep violet eyes hold none of their usual sparkle. He takes only a moment to assess the situation and strides towards you. He gently takes up your hand like he’s done many times before and nods once to Azriel as darkness consumes your vision.

You land softly on the plush carpet of Rhysand’s study. Seconds later Azriel appears with Cassian.

“Care to explain why I’m about to pay for repairs in Windhaven?” The cool stare of the Night Court’s High Lord falls upon his Illyrian brothers.

Azriel’s wings flare in challenge but you step forward before he can get out his first word.

“Actually, that might be my fault. I got into a little… altercation with some of the Illyrian trainees.” You play down how dangerous the situation really could have become.

“Little?” Cassian questioned. “It was four against one, you were lucky we were there!”

“I had it under control!” You ball your hands into fists at your side. “And why were you even there?”

But it’s Rhysand who replies first. “You went alone?”

You lock eyes with him for a moment, before turning away. You didn’t feel like trying to explain how hurt you had been by Azriel and Cassian’s games lately, that you had just wanted to get a little space. It felt like they were laughing at your poor love life at every turn and just for a moment you wanted them to assume you may have had a suitor. Even in a place like Windhaven.

“You sent her?” Cassian takes a half step forward.

Rhysand’s eyes flick quickly between the three of you. “I need to get back, make an example of these trainees to assure this doesn’t happen again and repair yet another building.” His gaze settles on Cassian. “You three stay here until you figure this out.” He’s gone by the time you turn around.

————————————————————————

“What were you doing in Windhaven?” Azriel folds his arms across his broad chest and leans against the wall.

“Why were you tailing me?” You answer with a question of your own.

“We thought…” Cassian shifts his weight uneasily “We thought you might be meeting with someone who wasn’t… safe for you.”

“Safe for me?” You could feel your blood begin to boil. First the games, now they want to directly meddle in your love life too?

“They’re Illyrians Y/N! They don’t care about you! You're seriously delusional if you think anyone in that camp is worth your time!” Cassian furiously points back towards the mountains outside the study window.

“Right because Illyrian brutes are only good for fighting and fucking!” You throw back at him. Azriel narrows his eyes understanding the insult that was just thrown at them.

“That camp is full of dangerous males! They’d love nothing more than to discard of you when they’re done! If you’re seeing one of them, it's over.” Cassian growls and you see red.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see!” You storm towards him and jab a finger into his chest.

“So you are seeing one of them!” He steps back and throws his arms up. You turn on your heel, heading for the door ready to be done with this conversation for good.

“What does it concern you if I see an Illyrian?” You snarl as you head back towards the door.

“Because it’s not us!” Cassian chokes out and the room immediately stills.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cassian’s thoughts rush down the bond. The fear of his confession mingled with the fear that he’s messed things up with Azriel. That he’ll lose two of the most important people in his life in one fell swoop.

Never. Relax. Azriel tries to soothe him but his heart is also racing out of his chest. Cassian’s confession may as well have been his own. The reason he couldn’t stand to think of Y/N with an Illyrian, or any male for that matter, was because it wasn’t him.

“I’m done with these games.” Tears threaten to prick your eyes but you fight them back. Your heart feels like it’s shattering. You glance over your shoulder, afraid that tears will begin to fall if you turn to face them completely.

“Just because the two of you are happy together,” You see the surprise ripple through them “Doesn’t mean you get to mess with me for fun.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble but you lift your chin in defiance.

“I’m packing my stuff. I’m going to go stay with Mor for a bit, just… leave me alone.” You sign and reach for the door handle.

————————————————————————

As you begin to pull the door open Azriel can feel his heart crack and splinter. The pain and sadness that they have caused you struggles to consume his chest and he doesn’t fight it. He lets it wash over him.

“No.” he gasps, squeezing his eyes closed against the sharp pain that rips through him. As he blinks them open he notices Cassian has stumbled to Rhysands desk doubled over in pain. But when he looks across at you standing in the doorway he sees it. A golden thread splits away from you, towards them both. Glowing just as bright as the one that connects him to the Illyrian warrior.

You stand frozen and wide eyed across from him.

Y/N Azriel takes a tentative step forward, testing the connection down the bond. Cassian straightens but remains silent.

I don’t understand. You blink back and forth between them. You two are…

We are. We have been mates for centuries. Azriel explains as he moves closer.

We can’t lose her Az. I can’t… Cassian’s voice waivers in the back of his mind.

I know. Azriel agrees. You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to unravel this mess, unaware of their private conversation.

Sweetheart, we never meant to hurt you. We were competing for your attention for our own gain and I’m sorry. We never thought for a second that it was the chaffing of a mating bond. I never thought the Cauldron would find me worthy enough of a second bond, they are so rare. Especially with you. I’m so sorry Y/N. If you let me, us, we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Azriel confesses everything he has as he stands before you. He feels like he just placed his heart in the palm of your hand and is waiting for you to crush it between your fingers as you remain with your head down.

The Cauldron has blessed you with a mate after all… two mates. Males that you have been through so many ups and downs with during these last few years. And surely those years could trump the last few weeks of misunderstandings?

Okay. You lift your eyes to his as tears begin to spill over.

Azriel envelopes you first in his arms and then his wings. It wasn’t the confession he gave you but by the Mother he would take it. He meant what he said. He would do anything to mend what they had broken before they even knew they had it.

————————————————————————

Azriel winnowed you and Cassian back above the House of Wind. The three of you spent the rest of the day and evening discussing what had happened over the last couple of weeks. You confessed how you knew about their relationship. They confessed to their bet. They apologised over and over again. You confessed to catching on to their games early on.

“So you were never actually seeing anyone?”

“No, I haven't even been on a date since before the war.” You laugh and shake your head a little. A wave of jealously rolls down the bond and your eyes flick to meet Cassian’s.

You’d forgotten, for just a moment, about the mating bond. Well mating bonds. Lounging in the sitting room of the House of Wind with Cassian and Azriel felt like any other evening. The same usual banter flowed between you, but now when you took in their breathtaking smiles and low rumbling laughs there was no guilt to chase down your thoughts. You took in Cassian’s leathery wings stretched wide behind his low backed chair. You slide your eyes over his broad shoulders and the corded muscles of his exposed arms, landing on those Illyrian tattoos that you followed in the kitchen all those weeks ago, realising you might get the opportunity to finally follow their full trail across his skin.

Sweetheart Azriel shifts in his seat as his purring voice enters your mind. You might want to work on putting some shields in place. Your focus is pulled back then and you realise Cassian is gripping the armrests of his chair, his chest heaving in deep breaths, pupils blown wide with arousal as he pulls up the side of his mouth in a smirk.

Don’t listen to him baby. He’s just jealous. I was quite enjoying the appraisal. You blink in surprise as Cassian’s gruff voice enters your mind, startled to find that communication could flow openly between the three of you. That would be something you would have to delve into more later. Right now you could only focus on the Illyrian war lord across from you who had hunger rolling off him like a man who hadn’t eaten in months.

At Cassian’s words you realise you haven’t felt anything from Azriel’s side of the bond. Ever the cool, calm and collected one he was probably shielding everything from you right now and you found that it rubbed you the wrong way. You let your eyes fall on the Shadowsinger then, determined to have him drop his walls for you.

His deep black wings rise and fall behind him as he notices your attention. Your eyes trace along the top of his right wing until your attention falls to his throat, the way his adam's apple bobs has you swallowing dryly. You imagine placing your lips to the skin there and a shiver rolls through you. A shadow slides over his shoulder and curls low around his neck, almost vying for attention. You imagine what it would be like to not only have calloused hands pawing at you but smooth shadows as well and that’s when he snaps. His wall drops and his arousal twists and mingles with Cassian’s down the bond.

I thought you might be… opposed to my shadows in that scenario. He admits quietly. But having the bond so open you could easily read between the lines. He thought you might have been afraid of them. Of him.

You don’t scare me, Shadowsinger. You let admiration flow through the bond along with your words. In a blink of an eye Azriel is crowded over you, arms braced on the sides of your chair.

Really? He smirks down at you in challenge. It takes you one breath to recover from his sudden appearance, then you lean forward and place your lips to his neck in a featherlight kiss.

He groans and leans heavier into his arms.

Y/N we want to do this right. The normal way. Take you on those dates we asked you on. Cassian pleads with you. Interesting that when one loses their restraint the other finds it. You wonder if that's the bond at play or if that's just how Cassian and Azriel have always been.

Which part of this has been normal so far? You question as you send memories to both of them down the bond. Flashes of Cassian flirting in the kitchen and Azriel’s lingering touches during training. You also add some moments they’d never seen before; your lingering eyes catching on straining muscles as they spar shirtless in the training ring and the moment shadows led you to the sounds of them together, arousal shooting through you.

The world shifts beneath you then as Azriel lifts you from your chair. You wrap your legs around his waist and then his lips are on yours. There’s no delicacy to the kiss, it’s forceful, bruising, claiming. Soft sheets meet your back and you open your eyes to find Azriel has laid you down in his bed. His mouth moves to your neck, trailing kisses down to your chest before rising off the mattress. Shadows begin to swirl up your arms, replacing the touch of their master, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go for even a second. He turns to Cassian who has taken up residence leaning against the doorway.

“Nice of you to remember that I exist.” Cassian smirks at him. Any guilt you would have felt is quelled as you notice some of Azriel’s shadows linger around the Illyrians wrists and collarbone. Azriel strides across the room and grips the back of his neck.

“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Azriel whispers against his lips and kisses him. The kiss is gentle at first and you can’t help but feel the happiness that radiates from them. You’ve never seen them so open, relaxed and just… them.

Cassian is the first to push it further. Their lips still connected he shoves Azriel back into the room and kicks the door closed with his heel. There are hands in hair, gripping hips, mouths tugging on bottom lips and a soft whine escapes you as you watch your two favourite Illyrians devouring each other. Suddenly two pairs of dark eyes are on you.

Don’t worry baby, we haven't forgotten about you. Cassian's voice enters your mind as he moves towards the bed. He reaches back and pulls his shirt over his head, then climbs over you. He leans down and captures your mouth with his, taking his time to savour the moment. Then he spins, pulling you above him and props you up so you straddle his lap.

Wasn’t there some tracing you needed to do? He grins broadley up at you. You flush slightly at his reference to your errant imaginings but take in the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that wrap around thick muscles. You feel Cassian stiffen and then relax with a sigh as your tongue meets tanned skin. You trail across his shoulder, down his broad chest, pausing only to flick your tongue over a stiff nipple. He bucks up into you with a small moan. You continue down past chiselled abs as you move further down the bed finally reaching the line of muscle that disappears behind his waistband.

He watches you carefully as you begin to untie his pants. Finally you free him, curling your fingers around the velvet wrapped length. Suddenly a memory is forced into your vision. Cassian’s view in the kitchen, watching you devour strawberries dipped in cream. His focus is singular as he watches your tongue swipe up through the cream.

The room comes back to you and you smirk up at him laid back against the headboard before dipping your head down and running your tongue up the underside of him and flicking at his head.

Fuucckkk his moan reverberates in your mind as he throws his head back on the pillow. I’ve been imaging that for weeks and nothing even came close.

His reaction spurs you on and you get to work sucking him into your mouth, exploring with your tongue. You experiment with how deep you can take him and allow your hand to cover any part of the shaft that's not in your mouth. He continues to make small noises as the bed dips beside you. You look up to find Azriel already undressed, Cassian leaves your mouth with a small pop as your mouth falls open.

Oh please, he already knows he’s pretty. We’ll never hear the end of it now. Cassian teases.

Azriel leans forward and grips your chin gently forcing you to sit up.

As much as I was enjoying the show sweetheart, you are wearing far too many clothes. His hand trails down your front and rests at the hem of your shirt.

May I? He cocks his head in question. You nod silently, all words lost to you as your brain swims with arousal.

Words baby. Cassian props himself onto his elbows. There’s so much we want to do with you but we need to know you want it too.

Your eyes flick between Cassian and Azriel. Again surprised to find that Cassian was the one with more control. In the ring, on the battlefield, on a mission, it had always been the other way around. You pull your shirt over your head and reach back, releasing your bra, letting it fall into your lap.

I always thought actions spoke louder than words. You finally reply.

There’s my girl. Cassian reaches out, gripping around your hip, pulling you on top of him once again. And don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough why I’m left in control here. I don’t want to release Azriel onto you just yet. A shiver runs down your spine at the promise behind the words.

Azriel lets out a soft growl behind you as Cassian finds your lips. Suddenly there are hands everywhere. Cassian paws at your chest and rolls your nipple between his fingers, swallowing your moans in his mouth. Azriel positions himself behind you, quickly removing the rest of your clothes with a moan.

So fucking pretty. He runs a calloused hand up your inner thigh and you flush at the image he must be seeing of you bent over Cassian. His fingers run through your folds and settle on the bundle of nerves. You can only focus on not collapsing on top of Cassian under the assault of both Illyrians.

Azriel shuffles behind you and you feel his tongue flick against you and then swirl around you. He gently explores with his fingers, slipping a finger inside you as Cassian begins sucking marks on to your neck, your chest, anywhere his mouth can reach.

As quickly as Azriel’s tongue was on you, it vanishes and it's when Cassian knits his eyebrows together you realise, Azriel is using his mouth to pleasure you both.

While Cassian is briefly distracted you take the opportunity to return some of the marks to his own neck. Azriel then changes tactics and rubs Cassian’s head, slick with precum, against your clit as he adds another finger to the first, stretching you open as he pumps them in and out.

Please. You whine, already so close to the edge. Need you.

Azriel wastes no time as he sits up and lines Cassian up with your entrance. You slowly sink backwards feelling Cassian stretch you open until you sit flush over his hips.

Ride me baby girl, I’m all yours. Cassian purrs and you begin to bounce on top of him. Soft moans escape his lips as you move and you feel like you're glowing from your ability to bring him so much pleasure.

You lean over him, deepening the angle when the room darkens. Azriel leans over you both and whispers in your ear.

“Do you trust me?” His breath tickles your skin.

“Yes” You moan as Cassian slides deep into you again.

Azriel grips your hips and stops your movement as Cassian's length slides out of you, his head hovering at your entrance. Azriel enters you with a snap of his hips. You were glad you were stretched already as you take his large thick length in one quick thrust. He pulls out still holding you steady as he allows Cassian to buck up and enter you again.

They find a rhythm so quickly that you think must only come from being connected for so many centuries. You moan and whimper into the space between Cassian’s shoulder and neck. It feels like there isn’t a moment when you aren’t filled by either of them as they both fuck you hard and fast.

Cassian reaches up and pulls you away from his body so you hover above him.

Want to hear you baby. Want to see you as we make you fall apart. Come for me Y/N.

Your body obeys without you even thinking as you clench around them as they continue to enter you over and over again. When you’ve ridden your high, Azriel backs away enough for Cassian to pump into you a few more times before finishing himself, seated deep inside you.

There’s a few moments to catch your breath as you sit up and then Azriel is back, one hand your hip the other softly wrapping around your neck.

Do you have another one for us sweetheart? For me? The deep rumble of his voice raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

Always. You whimper as his hands trace circles across your sensitive skin. He pulls you off Cassian and leans you back against his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He lifts you to enter you from behind again-

No Azriel freezes as soon as the thought enters your mind. You panic realising he thinks you want him to stop. No, Azriel. You lean your head back on his shoulder to meet his eyes. I want to see you, want to touch you.

Azriel’s eyes soften and he lays you on the bed next to Cassian.

Both so pretty. He murmurs as he lines himself up with you, appreciating the view of you and Cassian laid out before him. And mine. A darkness swirls in his eyes at the claiming and a thrill runs through you. Cassian trails his fingers up your thigh as Azriel enters you.

His thrusts are quick and hard. You let your hands explore up his stomach, across his chest and down his arms as sets an unrelenting pace. It isn’t long before you’re on the edge again but Azriel doesn’t give any indication that he’s anywhere near finished with you.

You drove him near mad that day after training. Cassian whispers into your mind. He’s sensitive to touch, I’ll show you where it affects him the most.

Cassian settles in the back of your mind then and gently instructs you to reach out for his wings. You do as he says and brush a hand along the inside of the warm membrane. A growl rumbles through Azriels chest as he tips his head back. You continue to follow Cassian’s detailed instructions learning the places that pull moans from Azriel’s lips.

A few moments later, Azriel is practically panting above you, pupils blown wide as his hips continue to snap into you. You feel your own tension building alongside his own.

Go with him, baby girl. Cassian purrs as he reaches down and presses firmly on your over sensitive clit. You see white behind your eyes as you finish for the second time tonight.

————————————————————————

You're curled between two Illyrian bodies as only the sounds of soft breathing fill the air. You’ve never felt more safe or more satisfied for that matter. You wonder how things are going to be from now on. Whether your bond will remain a secret like theirs has. Laying on your side, you take in Azriel’s sleeping form and wonder what Cassian meant about ‘releasing Azriel’ onto you. Your pulse quickens, imagining all the things the three of you could get up to together. Cassian’s hand tightens on your hip from behind you as Azriel blinks open his eyes. You flush, clearly they weren’t as asleep as you thought.

Cassian leans in to whisper at your ear.

“Firstly, I’m glad you feel both safe and satisfied because that’s what we’re here for.” His nose brushes along your neck. “Secondly, we’ll figure out the bond together. Nothing will be decided without you.”

Azriel leans forward and whispers against your lips. “Thirdly, you’ll learn soon enough what happens when I get to play my way.” He kisses you softly and Cassian trails kisses down your spine. You know for certain the first thing you're going to do is learn how to block these two from your mind.

#cazriel #cazriel x reader #acotar fic #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x azriel

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago

Note

Hello :) if your requests are still open:

This is my first time requesting something so please ignore this if I‘m doing something wrong.

I saw the 150 Random Writing Prompts and was thinking of a jealous Hunter smut. (Or Echo, if you find it more fitting)

With

143.: “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

And if it’s ok ( I could not decide, sorry)

97.: if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god”

93.: say you want me, and i’m yours.”

Thanks 🙏🏻 You are an awesome writer!✨

Thank you so much for the request, anon! You did nothing wrong at all! I was able to work in all three, but I’m incapable of writing anything short, so this is kinda long - oops. Hope you like it! <3

Bonus point if you spot the Taylor Swift lyric I managed to weave in!

Green Doesn’t Suit You

With the whole squad safely back on Pabu, you settle into a comfortable civilian life. But the yearly Celestialis festival, said to bring good fortune for the next year to those who attend, brings with it something you never thought you’d have.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.5k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: jealousy, friends to lovers, pet names, old lady shoving her oar in, Omega is a fantastic wing-woman, confessions of love, first kiss together, squint for possessiveness, being (lovingly) manhandled, first time together, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, soft aftercare, all the fluffy feels.

The air was stifling, not only from the heat outside but the warmth emanating from both ovens in the kitchen of your new home on Pabu.

The house had been a gift – the fanciest gift you’d ever received – from Shep and the other island residents. A thank you for all the hard work you, the boys, and Omega had put into rebuilding their island after the freak tsunami.

All seven of you, living together in a space infinitely bigger than the Marauder or your old barracks. It was heaven.

“We still need to get those tanks moved.” Omega grumbled, grabbing a clean tray and loading it with the latest batch of cooled cookies you’d made. In the sitting room, just visible through the kitchen doorway, were two bacta tanks. Where Phee had managed to procure them from was still a mystery, but they’d saved Crosshair and Tech’s lives after you, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker had stormed Mount Tantiss to rescue Omega and the twins. The brothers had been worse for wear – it was still a miracle Tech had survived his fall.

“I’ll speak to Phee in the morning.” You added it to your mental list, skirting around an open cabinet door.

Today was the Celestialis festival, where Pabu’s residents came together to wish for good fortune for the year ahead. Once Shep and the island’s organising committee had caught wind of how good your baking skills were, they’d pulled you into the fray. For weeks, you’d been planning and purchasing ingredients and trying different recipes. And for the last few days, you’d been baking all hours of day and night – with varying levels of assistance from Omega and her brothers.

Four years ago, when the war had broken out, you’d signed up as a civilian handler. Fresh out of college and with nothing lined up, it had seemed like a good idea. While other handlers stayed on Kamino and supported their squads from a distance, the moment you’d read the files for Clone Force 99, you’d known that you’d need to be at their side constantly. They had a habit of veering off track, and handling that from afar would only give you a permanent migraine. So, after signing a hefty waiver with the Kaminoans, you’d been handed some armour, a blaster, and directions to the hangar.

Three years, you’d fought alongside them, learning the best ways to manage them and their unique skill set, building bonds and friendships far deeper and more meaningful than anything you’d ever had before. This last year, since Order 66, had brought its own challenges, too, but it has also brought you Omega.

Grabbing another tray from a cupboard, you pass it over to the young girl, watching as she loads it up with more cookies. Sweat beads on the nape of your neck, and you sigh, lifting your hair to try and get some air to it.

Omega, forever perceptive, abandons the cookies to help tie your hair back. From a small pot on the counter, she goes to grab a hairband, but at the last minute, you redirect her to the strip of fabric that sits nearby, the two of you sharing a look.

It’s another hour before you’re ready to leave for the festival. The boys had headed out mid-afternoon to help set up, taking their dressier clothes with them to spare themselves the walk back to the house and to not get in your way as you finished up. As infuriating and stubborn as they could all be at times, their thoughtfulness was unparalleled.

Dragging wagons laden with treats up to the central plaza, you and Omega work quickly to lay out all the goodies on the tables Shep had set aside for you. You hoped there would be enough for everyone, especially as other food was on offer, too. Stepping back from the tables, you take a deep breath.

“Finally left the kitchen, eh?” Echo teases as he approaches, the rest of the boys in tow. He’d tried to help as best as he could over the last few days, but baking with one hand had been less than ideal. Ultimately, he’d sat at the kitchen table and kept you going with conversation and caff breaks. And he’d chased Hunter off a few times when that keen nose of his had brought him sniffing around for treats to ‘sample.’

You watch as Omega passes a star-shaped cookie over to Wrecker, and the delight on the big man’s face as he devours it fills you with pride. “If I step foot in that kitchen again at any point in the next two weeks, please shoot me.” You joke, the corners of your lips curling into a smile.

“Deal.” Crosshair teases, toothpick sliding to the other side of his mouth as he reaches for a Roonan lemon cookie. His appetite hadn’t returned much since his rescue from Mount Tantiss and time in the bacta tank, but he was trying to eat a little more each day so you wouldn’t worry about him.

“Hey!” You protest playfully, the boys chuckling as Crosshair takes a small bite, throwing you a wink. Light conversation flows between you all, broken up by the occasional island resident swinging by for some treats. The music starts, and more residents arrive, joining the festival’s spirit, dancing together and laughing.

Hunter can’t keep his eyes off you. For the last four years, he’s seen you in blacks and armour, with the recent addition of sweatpants around the house, and yet now you’re in a dress. A light and airy thing with delicate straps that cross over your shoulders, the fabric cinched in at your waist to accentuate the soft curves of your body. He’s sure it’s the same shade of aqua that paints his pauldrons, too. The thought has a strange sensation sweeping through his gut.

The sound of someone calling your name snatches his attention and drags his thoughts back to the present. As you turn towards the person calling for you, he can’t help but steal the opportunity to admire you. Eyes raking up your bare legs, across your hips and ass that he’s imagined grasping many times, over the smooth plane of your back to the curve of your neck and then…

The entire galaxy might as well cease to exist as his mind goes blank.

Wide brown eyes lock onto the scrap of red fabric keeping your hair up, and that strange sensation in his gut slams into him again. There, holding your hair up, is one of his spare bandanas.

His heart races, thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. A torrent of emotions surges within him. He wants to reach out to you, to pull you close and finally tell you how much you mean to him, but he holds himself back. He can't bear the thought of you not returning the sentiment. Maybe it had just been an accident. Maybe his bandana had been the closest thing available.

In the silence of his thoughts, he missed you excusing yourself to talk with one of the island’s elderly residents, who’d been calling you over.

“Smooth.” Crosshair deadpans, gaze flicking to Hunter as they watch you go, the rest of their siblings distracted by the food and music.

The slink of his brother’s voice pulls Hunter from his thoughts, and he frowns in Crosshair’s direction. “What?” He asks. They’d worked hard to reconcile ever since Crosshair had been deemed stable enough to leave the bacta tank – they’d broached difficult topics and mended a few bridges as they worked towards getting back to what they’d had before the Order had been given. It was slow and, at times, painful, but neither of them was willing to give up on each other again.

“You were staring at her like she’s pure aurodium. Not that I blame you…” Hawkish eyes slide towards Hunter, a smirk tugging at Crosshair’s lips as he watches his brother’s jaw clench and his head tilt, a hardness settling across his features.

Crosshair lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the slight rise he’d secured. “Green doesn’t suit you, vod.” He tosses the comment before snatching up a few more of your baked treats, striding away in search of a quiet place to perch. Crowds still bothered him, but he didn’t want to avoid the gathering altogether and feel like even more of an outcast.

Across the plaza, you’d reached Mrs. Magiere. The elderly lady had lived on the island for years and had slowly convinced her family to move across the galaxy and join her. She wandered the island around lunchtime, and you’d often crossed paths, sharing polite conversation.

Beside her stood an unfamiliar man. “There you are, dear. I want to introduce you to my grandson, Dax.” Mrs. Magiere reached for your hand, drawing you closer.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Dax.” You offered the man a smile. He was a little taller than you, with a slender build, perfectly coifed brown hair and piercing green eyes.

Dax tries to keep his gaze on your face, but his eyes betray him for a moment as he takes all of you in. You’re quite lovely, he must admit. “And you. My grandmother speaks very fondly of you.” He replies.

Mrs. Magiere looks between you both with glee. “Why don’t you two go and dance? My old bones can’t keep up anymore.” One of her hands finds your lower back, and she gives you a gentle nudge towards Dax.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks caught off guard and a little uncomfortable, but Dax offers you a reassuring smile and his hand. Not wanting to cause a scene or upset anyone, you take it, letting him lead you towards the plaza’s centre where couples and families are dancing. He stops en route, snagging a delicate pink flower from one of the blossoming vines nearby. With careful hands, he slides it into your hair, leaning back to admire you.

“And here I thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.” The compliment comes naturally to Dax as he retakes your hand, leading you to a small available spot amongst the dancing island residents.

The warmth in your cheeks grows, and all you can offer Dax is a small smile as he twirls you into his arms once you are amongst the crowd. Laughing softly, you let him lead, the few dance classes you’d taken at college helping you keep up with him.

“You did a wonderful job with the baked goods.” Dax lays another compliment on you, enjoying your bashful smile.

It felt good to be appreciated for all your hard work preparing for this evening, especially by those outside of your little family. “Thank you. What did you like the most?”

Turmoil rolls through Dax. Truth told, he hadn’t sampled any of the treats you’d so lovingly prepared, but he knew it was essential to compliment you. “The oat ones were delicious.” He takes a stab in the dark.

Your smile falters briefly before you fix it back into place. “I’m glad.” You lie in return, not pointing out that you hadn’t made oat cookies.

Standing off at the side of the plaza, it took no time for Hunter to find you amongst the crowd. Over the years, he’d memorised the sound of your heartbeat and the delicate whisper of your voice as the light breeze carried it to him. His eyes found you, and his brows furrowed as he watched you gracefully twirl in the arms of another man, a torrent of emotions churning within him. Jealousy, like a venomous snake, coiled around his heart, injecting poison into his every thought.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The woman he loved, whose smile could light up his darkest days, was now smiling at someone else. Insecurity gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling he thought he’d long buried during his cadet days.

He longed to be the one guiding you across the dance floor, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the galaxy. The realisation that someone else was experiencing that privilege grated on him.

“I don’t like him.” Omega’s voice snapped Hunter from his spiralling thoughts, and he glanced down to see her standing at his side, her own eyes watching you and the unfamiliar man dance.

“Hm, neither do I.” Hunter comments, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you twirl again.

It was no secret to Omega how much you and Hunter loved one another, and she was getting tired of neither of you doing anything about it. “Then, why don’t you go dance with her?” She asked, injecting as much innocence into her voice as she could muster, wide eyes turning up to look at her brother.

Hunter sighed. Omega had a point – he could quickly end this torture.

“Mind if I cut in?” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice interrupted your dance, and you turned towards him, offering him a bright smile.

The smile Dax had been wearing dissipated, a faint clench to his jaw as he shook his head while the music changed to something softer. “Not at all.” He lied, taking his hands from you. His grandmother had told him about the man who’d interrupted, with half of his face shrouded in darkness, and had warned him that you were close. Not willing to go easily, Dax lifted one of your hands to his lips, holding your gaze as he pressed a kiss to the back of it before stepping away a small distance. He’d wait nearby for another turn.

Your bright smile turned a little uneasy as Dax pressed a kiss to your hand, but relief had your shoulders sagging as Hunter stepped forward, sliding one arm around your waist to pull you close, your hand resting on his shoulder. He took your other hand with his free one, fingers interlacing. “Thank you for the save.” You murmured gratefully, knowing that with his hearing, you didn’t need to raise your voice to be heard above the music.

“Always.” Hunter’s answer leaves no room for doubt as he gently leads, moving you both in a slow sway. He can’t help but revel in your closeness. Every touch, every brush of your hand against his, feels electrifying, making his heart race with desire. Your warm body is pressed to his, his senses overwhelmed with you.

Warmth and security flood your body with the press of Hunter’s hand on your lower back, igniting a desire to be even closer. The rest of the galaxy can’t reach you here, tucked safely in his arms, and for a moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything that’s happened over the last four years – all the pain and bloodshed, all the horrors and tears. Through it all, Hunter has been a steady presence.

As you sift through the good memories, certain moments stand out. There was that day at the lake on Kintan, where the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The two of you had sat side by side, another successful mission under your belt, your laughter dancing in the air. You remember stealing glances at him, the way the sunlight had caught in his eyes, adding more warmth than you thought possible to those endless pools of brown.

Then there were the late-night conversations while you were deep in hyperspace, where you’d lose track of time, sharing dreams, fears, and secrets. Hunter’s voice, soft yet determined, painted a vivid picture of what he wanted from life after the war.

You could only hope those wants had changed.

Hunter drew his senses in, letting the crowd in the plaza fade into the background as he focused on you, the steadiness of your heartbeat, the feel of your hand in his and your bodies pressed together, and the subtle change to your scent. “You smell different.” He comments, curious eyes finding yours.

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d stomp on their foot.” You laugh, a little caught off guard by the statement. “I…” You trail off, the warmth that had faded from your cheeks now returning. “I stopped wearing perfume while knee-deep in the war, but now we’re out the other side of it. I thought I might try it again.” You admit, head dipping bashfully, before worry laces through you. “Is it too much? I aimed for something I hoped wouldn’t bother you and your senses.”

Lips parting at your answer, Hunter blinks with disbelief. Here you were in a sweet little dress, one of his bandanas keeping your hair up, and now you’d dropped on him that you were wearing a perfume picked out with his heightened senses in mind. He groans, desire churning through his veins. “Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?”

Freezing, you think for a moment that you’ve misheard him. “What?” You question softly.

Hunter realises his mistake, but it’s too damn late to take the words back.

In the following pause, neither of you moving, simply staring at one another, Dax spots his opportunity and steps forward. “Can I cut back in?”

Hunter has to actively stop himself from grunting in frustration at the interruption. “We’re not done.” He tells him politely, making sure to keep his eyes on you. He knows he has to say something to you. “Cyar’ika, I…”

Dax huffs, finding it unfair that this man had swooped in and stolen you mid-dance and refused to let him back in. “Look, bud-“

Something snaps in Hunter, and his head whips to the side, eyes narrowing at the man you’d been dancing with. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help the Maker…” He growls out the threat, no longer caring that he’s being rude. This was too important. You were too important.

Your jaw drops, and you watch in disbelief as Hunter threatens Dax. Your heart races, and for a moment, the tension in the air is palpable. Dax, a bit taken aback by Hunter’s sudden intensity, raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“Whoa, whoa, man.” Dax stammers, realising he’s pushed Hunter’s patience to the limit. He steps back, allowing some space between him and the seething clone.

Hunter takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, regaining his composure. He turns back to you, his eyes softening as he tries to find the right words. "Cyar'ika, I'm sorry. It’s just... I need to talk to you.”

Your heart still races, but now it’s not just from the tension between the two men. You look into Hunter’s eyes searchingly. “What is it?” you ask, your voice filled with concern.

Keeping hold of your hand, Hunter leads you away from the crowd, finding a quiet corner of the plaza where you can talk in peace. The silence lingers for a few minutes as he struggles to find the right words, scrubbing his free hand over his face, having never anticipated this moment would come.

Unable to bear seeing him so stressed, you step closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart thuds heavy under your palm. “H…” You breathe the little nickname you’d given him shortly after joining them all those years ago, which breaks him out of his funk.

“You’re a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful in this galaxy.” He blurts out, catching you off guard. “Your kindness, the way you listen, how you look after everyone around you — you’ve had me captivated since the day you waltzed onto the Marauder like you owned the damn thing and introduced yourself. And now, it’s terrifying to think of my life without you in it.” Once the words start, he can’t stop them.

“And I know we’ve been friends for years, and I value that more than anything in the galaxy. But seeing him dance with you and thinking of him doing it again…” Hunter huffs, trying desperately not to get worked up. “I mean, cyar’ika, the colour…” He gestures to your dress with his free hand. “And you’re using my bandana to keep your hair up, and you picked out a perfume with me in mind...” He trails off, knowing he’s shared so much that he can’t return from it, but Maker does it feel good to get the weight off his shoulders.

A small smile weaves onto your lips, even though you know you shouldn’t be happy, given the man you love is clearly stressed. “What if I told you none of it was accidental?” You murmur, your hand on his chest smoothing across the firm plane of muscle. “That you didn’t misplace your right pauldron the other week – I borrowed it to colour match. And I purposefully asked Omega to use your bandana earlier when she was tying up my hair.” You confess, eyes darting up to watch as surprise paints itself on his handsome features.

“You know, I’ve spent countless nights replaying moments in my head, wondering if you ever picked up on how my heart races when you’re near or how I can’t keep my eyes off you when we’re together. I didn’t want to make things awkward or ask for something neither of us could give in the middle of a war. But we’ve made it out the other side, so…” It’s your turn to trail off.

Your words hung in the air, and Hunter’s heart began to race, his body swirling with so many emotions it was difficult to grasp onto any of them. A rush of warmth surged through him, from the tips of his fingers to the depths of his soul. Gazing into your eyes, all he finds is pure, unwavering honesty. Your sincerity was a balm to his fears.

Hunter’s silence unnerves you, but you’re not backing out now. Not when the promise of something so much sweeter is tantalisingly close. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.” You whisper.

Hunter’s gaze never wavers from yours, and a flicker of relief crosses his eyes as he realises that this isn’t a cruel joke or an illusion. It’s real. The tension between you seems to crackle with anticipation as he takes a deep breath, finally finding the words he’s been searching for. “I’ve wanted you since the day you walked onto the Marauder.” He admits softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “I’ve tried to be strong, to protect you and the rest of the squad, to not let my feelings get the better of me. But I can’t deny it any longer. I want you with every beat of my heart, every breath I take.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the intensity of his desire in the way he holds you and the way he looks at you. There’s no turning back now.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Hunter leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The world around you fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of you finally giving in to the magnetic pull that has existed between you for so long. The kiss is a promise, a declaration of all the unspoken feelings and desires built up over the years.

As your lips parted, Hunter rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged with emotion. “I want you, and I’m yours.” He whispers, his voice filled with love and longing.

A radiant smile spreads across your face, and you reply, “I’m yours too, Hunter. Always.”

His smile matches your own as he pulls back a little, though his fingers remain on your face, now stroking across your jawline. “Want to get out of here?”

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you nod. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Hunter’s eyes twinkle with excitement and relief as he takes your hand and leads you away from the plaza, slipping down side streets towards your home. As you walk hand in hand, you can feel the electric connection between you two, a spark that has finally ignited into a full-blown flame.

Halfway there, Hunter pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucks you against the side of a building, his lips finding yours. His kisses are hungry, filled with longing and desire, as if he’s been waiting forever for this moment. And in truth, he feels like he has.

As the kiss breaks, your laughter echoes in the stillness of the night, smile as bright as the stars above as he disentangles from you, drawing you out of the shadows and back towards the house. As you reach the front door, he stops, his free hand moving to your hair, plucking the flower from Dax free. Carelessly, he drops it to the floor.

“Hunter!” You exclaim, watching the delicate bloom hit the pebbled path beneath your feet.

Something dark shines in his eyes, sending a thrill through you. “The only things in your hair should be my bandana,” his hand reaches for your ponytail, giving it a gentle tug as he leans in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Or my hands.”

Breath catching, Hunter’s lips meet yours for a passionate kiss. The front door is pushed open, and you’re guided inside, steady hands grasping at your hips as he kicks the door shut behind you both.

Heart thudding as both of Hunter’s hands cup your face; you sink into his touch as his tongue slides between your lips, tasting you. He leads you up the stairs, refusing to break the kiss for even a moment as you reach his room. One hand leaves your face to push the bedroom door shut, and a moment later, you’re pressed up against it, Hunter’s body pining you in place, an arm resting on the door above your head, caging you in. That earlier sense of safety creeps back through you.

Tearing his lips from yours, Hunter’s chest heaves with each breath, a fire licking its way through his veins as you both open your eyes, gazing at one another for a split second. His head dips, mouth leaving a trail of delicate kisses along your throat, groaning as you tilt to give him better access, the prettiest moan sliding from your lips as he laves a kiss to the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet, following it with a quick, gentle nip.

Knees shaking, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one until you can push the fabric off his body. The rough pads of his fingers drag across your bare thighs, breath stuttering as the hem of your dress meets his grasp. He breaks contact just long enough to lean back and lift the garment over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck…” Hunter curses quietly, eyes roving over your exposed body, the curves and dips of your frame, the swell of your bare breasts. A needy groan escapes him as he realises your panties match the dress, too.

Before self-consciousness can creep in, he’s dragging you to the bed with a hungry kiss, pushing you back onto it, kiss breaking as your back meets the soft mattress. For a moment, you both pause, drinking the other in. There’s a wildness in Hunter’s eyes you’ve never seen before, a warmth in your cheeks at how his eyes devour you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times – while sparring or coming out of the fresher, changing, or patching up wounds, but now you can look.

His broad shoulders taper to his narrow waist, and his tanned, toned skin begs to be touched. Half of him is shrouded in black ink, and a burning desire to drag your nails over the ridges of his abs has you licking your lips.

Hunter’s not faring much better, either. The sight of you sprawled on his bed in nothing but a scrap of aqua fabric, lips kiss-swollen, his bandana still in your hair, and your gorgeous tits exposed has him itching to fuck you on every surface, to fill the room with the scent of your arousal and make you scream his name over and over again. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” Hunter breaks the momentary silence, reaching down to palm himself through his pants.

The action draws your gaze downwards, and you watch delightfully as the man you love gives himself a stroke through the fabric.

Hunter’s nostrils flare, picking up on how the simple action drew more of your heady scent from between your thighs. At the foot of the bed, he slowly sinks down onto his knees, eyes never once leaving you. If you smell that delicious, he can only imagine how you’ll taste.

Propped up on your forearms, you watch as Hunter sinks down between your thighs, those warm brown eyes focused solely on you. Fingers skim up your calves, feather-light, gently pressing your legs wider as they reach your knees. His head turns inwards, gazes breaking as he presses soft kisses to your thighs, tongue leaving small, slow licks in their wake. He takes his time savouring you, savouring the moment.

Lips brush across the juncture between your thigh and hip, sucking small marks against your skin before Hunter buries his face against your clothed pussy, eyes shut as he presses his nose against your clit, inhaling deeply. Your scent pulls a low growl from him, the vibrations making you gasp. “So wet already. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” Hunter vows, tongue pressing forward to lick across the damp fabric of your panties, making your breath stutter at the contact as your head thunks back down onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut.

Fingers prying the material down your legs, Hunter dives back between your thighs, dragging the flat of his tongue through your soaked folds, delighting in the way your hips buck and you cry out. He was right; you taste even more delicious than you smell, and he groans at your tang on his tongue.

Drawing your legs over his shoulders, he settles in, licking long, broad strokes across your pussy, familiarising himself with you. His senses home in on you, mind cataloguing every slight noise you make, every jerk of your hips, the way your breath quickens when his tongue skirts oh so close to your entrance and then circles around your clit.

Needy little whines escape you, every nerve in your body alight as Hunter teases you, lips and tongue exploring you, his nose bumping against your clit to send sparks of desire surging through you. Warmth pools in your belly, and it only grows as the wet warmth of his tongue presses against your entrance, dipping in. “Hunter…” You moan out his name, fingers burrowing into his hair as you cant your hips, grinding against his face.

Pride blooms in Hunter’s chest at your response, and he keeps going a little longer before he flicks his tongue up and across your clit, the sounds of your cries of delight like music to his ears. Hands grasping at your thighs, he presses your legs up, almost folding you in half as his tongue sweeps side to side, teasing his way back down your pussy as he has greater access.

The change in angle makes you moan, free hand clawing at the sheets while your hips rock, chasing the delight of his mouth. A light suck on your clit makes you gasp, the warmth in your belly building with every swipe of his talented tongue. Dragging his tongue around the edge of your folds, he draws an arch, skirting around the top of your clit again. “Hunter, please.” You crack, desperate for him.

You feel him smile against you, releasing one of your thighs, fingers roaming up your body until his tattooed hand gently squeezes one of your breasts. His mouth is relentless, tongue finding your clit, firmly moving side to side over the sensitive bud as those talented fingers of his tweak your pebbled nipple.

The warmth crescendos, spilling over, and you cry out his name as your release slams into you, making your body shudder, gasping for breath at its intensity.

Hunter works you through the high, and as you whine at the overstimulation, his mouth leaves you, fingers letting go of your nipple to smooth over the soft skin of your breast. “Beautiful.” He whispers reverently, tongue darting out to lick his lips and drink up the taste of you as he watches you come down from the high, your heavy-lidded eyes opening to meet his gaze.

With your hand in his hair, you guide him up your body, small hums of delight leaving you as he peppers kisses across your stomach and chest, laving little licks across your breasts as he drags you further up the bed. He breaks away for a second, using one hand to remove his belt and shuck off his pants.

You watch as he strips completely, acres of tanned skin finally revealed. As he ditches his boxers, his hard cock springs free, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips, thighs parting a little wider. You relish the low groan the action pulls from him before he takes himself in hand, fist sliding along his shaft for a few pumps. He’s average in length but thicker than you expected - anticipation coils through you.

He prowls up the bed, settling above you, letting a little of his weight rest against you. Dark eyes meet yours, and you can’t hold back your smile, fingers reaching up to trace along his face. Drawing his head down, you steal a kiss, letting the moment build as your eyes flutter shut, tongues brushing together. Hunter shifts above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other dips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock as he teases the velvety head through your soaked folds. Achingly slowly, he presses forward, your lips parting as you let out a soft moan at the stretch as he eases into you inch by inch.

“That’s it, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re so pretty, taking all of me like a good girl.” He whispers against your lips, enjoying how your breathing changes and your heart races at his words. You feel like heaven as he bottoms out, hips flush against you, chests pressed together as his hand moves back to the side of your head, redistributing his weight.

The stretch as Hunter fills you is exquisite, and your eyes open to gaze up at him in awe that this is happening – that this incredible man is yours. The first slow roll of his hips has your head tilting backwards, a breathy sigh filling the room.

The pace builds, your hands reaching for him, dragging up his back and down his flanks, nails scraping along flushed skin, making him grunt at the combination of pleasure and pain. Desire coils through you, building with every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock as he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in. He leans down to kiss you, demanding tongue sliding between your lips to taste you.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good around me. Made for me.” Hunter growls and the sound of your bodies meeting creates a background of white noise. “Won’t last long, baby. You feel too good. Fucking dreamed of this.” He adds, supporting his weight with one hand again, thrusts never faltering as he reaches down to grasp one of your legs, hauling it up. He presses a kiss to your ankle before he pushes your leg towards your chest, the change in angle enabling him to thrust into you even deeper.

Eyes falling shut once again as he drives you closer to the edge, you whine and whimper as his cock repeatedly rubs against your g-spot. The hand he’d used to pry your leg up moves to your breast, fingers tweaking your pebbled nipple again before he gently squeezes. Your name falls from his lips, raspy alongside his command. “Come for me.”

Between his hands, cock, and voice, you’re powerless to resist. Fingers scrambling at his body for purchase, your back arches as you cry out his name, desire bubbling over into a rush of euphoria that sweeps through your body and momentarily renders you speechless. Tremors wrack through you, toes curling as you desperately pant for breath, hazy eyes opening to look up at him.

Feeling you come apart, watching you fall into pleasure beneath him, was more than Hunter could’ve ever asked for. You were beautiful every day, but lost in the throes of an orgasm he’d given you? You were divine. He could feel the pressure building, feel himself teetering on that edge.

“Where?” The roughness of Hunter’s voice caresses you, warm puffs of his breath tickling your ear from where he’s bent down to bring you both even closer, caging you under him as his thrusts grow sloppy, muscles taut under your hands.

“In me, please.” You whisper back, and the deep moan he lets out will forever be seared into your mind.

Hunter gives a few final thrusts before he presses in as deep as he can, a guttural sound leaving him as his eyes screwed shut, thighs shaking as he hits his own peak, the pressure evaporating into molten bliss as he gives you everything. Slowly, the pleasure pulls back, like the tide, and he swallows thickly as his eyes open, breath catching at the sight of you.

You’re gazing up at him like he hung all the stars in the galaxy, indescribable love woven through your features. Carefully, he lowers your raised leg, fingers rubbing to return some of the feeling as his lips meet yours with a tenderness that could only come from years of shared moments, mouths moving in perfect harmony, a slow, sensuous exploration of one another.

Hand sliding to your waist, Hunter holds you still as he gently eases himself out of you, shifting to lay on his side, drawing you against his chest.

You nestle into his embrace. Your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The years of laughter and tears, the countless shared experiences, and the trust built over time have all culminated in this moment.

Hunter presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and you can feel the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He draws lazy circles on your back, a comforting motion that brings you a sense of security and belonging.

With your bodies pressed together, you both revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The room is filled with a peaceful stillness, and you listen to the soft melody of your combined breaths, knowing that this love is the anchor that holds you both steady in a still-turbulent galaxy.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x you #the bad batch hunter x you #sergeant hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb hunter x reader #star wars clone wars

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dc418writes · 1 year ago

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✨Pairing✨: trucker!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: It’s always a time when uncle Ari comes around

⚠️: uncle!Ari (just as damaging as dad!Ari and regular Ari lol) mention of nightmares, pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: Hey guys! Another Halloween themed fic but this time with a softer Ari😌. This will serve as atonement to myself (and others who might be affected) for daring to make my fave dark in my last post lol. Hope you guys like it!!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pics used as they were all found on Pinterest*

As expected, four year old Grace had been attached to Ari since the moment you both arrived to babysit for the night. You wouldn’t say you were upset seeing that he was her uncle and that they’ve talked nearly every day since she could babble, but there was still a little sting every time you were greeted with a quiet “hi” or short wave before she was gone and you long forgotten.

Like now as they dug through their shared pumpkin emptying it’s stringy contents while you were in charge of decorating the sugar cookies waiting on the cooling rack.

“S’cold!,” she squealed dumping out her handful of pumpkin guts.

“Be careful of the seeds, you swallow one and a huge pumpkin’s gonna grow in your belly,” Ari warned to which little Grace quickly shook her head.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“No uncle Ari, we can eat. See?” Before either of you can say anything, she’s quick to set one on her tongue happily chewing until she can swallow it down rubbing her belly. “I’m fine.”

“I guess you showed me huh,” he chuckles tapping her nose and leaving some juice from his finger on her skin successfully turning it light orange. Grace is quick to retaliate though rubbing her hands on his cheeks to leave behind tiny pieces of string as she giggles - and you do too from the other side of the kitchen.

Honestly you couldn’t blame her for picking Ari over you as her favorite. You’d choose him too if you had to pick between the two of you.

“Alright, it’s pretty much cleaned out now. You want scary or funny?,” he asks watching as she adorably tapped her tiny finger to her temple in thought.

“Hmm…funny!”

“Got it,” he nods. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and help your aunt with cookies?”

“I got everything we could ever want Grace,” you smile reaching in your grocery bag full of decorating goodies. “There’s sprinkles - three different shapes I might add - glitter, edible stickers, and stencils to help us draw shapes!”

The way she gazed at the sprinkles with her mouth in a little “o”, you think you’ve got her. Finally able to bond with her over a shared love of cookies like you were in one of those Hallmark movies. Like a little happy family.

“Um..wanna stay with uncle Ari.”

Well, so much for that.

“Oh okay,” you answer successfully hiding your hurt behind your nonchalance. Ari still notices though giving you a sympathetic smile and mouthing, “sorry.”

You appreciated him trying, but maybe you were just meant to be the fun uncle’s wife that barely got a hello. And who tends to go overboard with cookie decorating supplies.

•

“Alright ladies are we ready?,” Ari asks sitting on the navy blue sectional between you and a bouncy Grace nodding yes. During your spaghetti dinner - made by Ari since apparently his was the best although he used your recipe - he suggested that you all watch a movie afterwards.

Specifically, Gremlins.

His thought process being what better way for everyone - more so you and Grace - to spend time together than to watch a movie? Especially a spooky one seeing that it was the night before Halloween. You, on the other hand, had a few concerns on his niece potentially being scared of the little troublesome creatures.

“She’ll be fine. It’s not that scary,” he assured kissing your cheek.

Freshly bathed and in her appropriately themed pumpkin pajamas, Grace couldn’t wait holding on tight to her Mickey Mouse blanket as she watched her uncle press play.

“Share with me!,” she smiles just as Ari spreads the bigger, cream blanket over both yours and his lap.

“I’m not gonna fit though bug.”

“Uh huh! Watch,” she states crawling into his lap and neatly spreading the grey blanket over her legs and his thighs. You - again - casted off to the side with your blanket as she tilts her head back to look up at him. “We fit!”

“Y-Yea, looks like we do.” He gives you another sympathetic smile draping his arm around your shoulders while you bundle deeper under the blanket.

“I’d rather be by myself anyway. Little does she know her uncle is a blanket hog,” you think trying to make yourself feel better.

•

Ari appeared to be right on Grace not being scared. She even fell asleep towards the end with her upper half on the cushion next to them and lower half still on his lap; mouth wide open pointed towards the ceiling. Ari was the one to tuck her in bed, while you cleaned up the blankets and plates of cookie crumbs left in the living room.

You were the last to enter the shared guest room to finally get ready for bed yourself. Your love struck husband taking turns gazing at you and the last period of some hockey game as you strode back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom. A small, dopey smile on his lips watching you wash your face and apply all your products.

“Share with me?,” he pouts with those puppy eyes making you giggle while sliding into the full sized bed.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I feel like Grace is gonna somehow come in saying how she wants you to sleep in her room instead because that’s where you’re supposed to be.”

Yes probably a little petty, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His tattooed arms bring you closer into his body pecking the top of your head as you settle between his pecs. A low “aw” vibrating in his chest while his hands rub along your back.

“I know I probably sound jealous, but I’m not. I love how you have a great relationship with your niece! But it’s like she hates me and I have no idea what I did.”

He knew that had always been a bit of a fear for you. Kids hating you for whatever reason, thus meaning you shouldn’t have them although you did desire to be a mother one day. It’s why you were nervous meeting Grace all those years ago, afraid that the smallest mess up would ruin everything.

It didn’t help that the minute Ari passed her to you, she began whining and squirming. Your coos of comfort and gentle rocks didn’t seem to help, only making her more agitated not getting what she wanted. She didn’t stop until she was back in Ari’s strong arms and you kept your distance the rest of the visit cautious of a repeat interaction.

If only he could get you to ignore that fear and really see how everyone you met - adults and children alike - had no issues with you. Some even left enchanted by the charisma you thought you lacked.

“I promise, she doesn’t hate you gorgeous.”

“She said so?,” you quietly ask lifting your head with a hint of hope.

“Well…no. But she didn’t say the opposite either.” He tried to soothe your qualms, but it’s not helping the way he hoped watching your head fall back to his chest with a light huff. “Trust me sweetheart. I guess she’s just attached to me because-,”

“You’re amazing and clearly the favorite,” you mumble making him chuckle.

“I was gonna say because I talk to her more, but I’ll take the compliment.”

It’s not long after that you’re both falling asleep lulled by the shared warmth from holding each other. Ari’s soft snores vibrating the side of your face still lying on his chest.

You think you’re dreaming when a mix of a whine and cry hits your ears disrupting your rest and making you groggily sit up. Hearing feet shuffling outside your door though confirms those sounds are in fact real, giving you more motivation to investigate.

Your husband’s too far gone in his own dreamland to be affected by your moving; still lightly snoring with an arm over his forehead and the other out by his side.

Quietly opening the door, you wrap your arms around yourself in your thin pajama set feeling the chill of the night air seeping into your sister in law’s house before carefully padding out to the living room. There, you notice something on the couch moving under the blanket you folded earlier causing you to freeze in place. It was then you realized you probably should’ve woken Ari up so he could be the one playing detective or at least grabbed something you could use to defend yourself.

“H-Hello?,” you call out to the dim space only lit by a couple plug in nightlights in the walls.

“Hi,” Grace’s soft voice responds with a short sniffle.

You also realize how you’re sleepy brain might not be fully thinking straight unable to conclude earlier how it could just be your own niece sitting there on the couch.

Stepping closer, you sit on the cushion next to hers peeling back the cotton throw until you see her splotchy face and red eyes. Water attached to her curled lashes and some still threatening to spill over. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad dream…gwemlins,” she answers using the blanket to wipe her eyes. You immediately hug her close as you coo and assure her everything’s okay.

And surprisingly, she hugs you back.

Her tiny arms wrap tight around you - well, as far as they could with her adorably short reach - almost refusing to let you go.

“Yea, when they get angry they can be scary huh?”

She nods. “And have very very sharp teeth.”

“They do, but luckily they’re not real so there’s nothing-,”

A crash from the back room startles both of you making Grace scream, with the six year old nearly choking you now having her arms around your neck.

“It’s them!,” she cries hiding her face in your shoulder just as Ari limps into the living room holding his knee and appearing half asleep.

“Damn dresser,” he grumbles wiping his eyes that quickly fill with concern seeing both of you on the couch and his niece upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Grace had a nightmare about Gremlins,” you answer pointedly glaring at him as if saying, “I told you so!”

The slight wince on his face isn’t just from an uncomfortable knee as he walks forward to perch on the coffee table. “I’m sorry bug. I didn’t mean to show that to you to scare you.”

“Not nice uncle Ari,” she mumbles still attached to you.

“Forgive me?,” he pouts holding his arms out for a hug. “Peas?”

Wiping her eyes one last time, a small smile begins to spread on her lips as she moves from you to Ari. A fit of giggles rapidly escaping her mouth as his larger body practically swallows hers in a bear hug and he attacks her cheeks with kisses. A dramatic “mwah” sounding every time he made contact causing you to giggle as well.

And fantasize the undoubtedly joyful future you’d both have with your own children.

“Don’t do it again!,” she chastises when he stops. Wagging her finger inches from his nose making him chuckle. She was definitely her mother’s child.

“I promise I won’t.”

“Alright guys,” you sigh, “Since it’s gonna be a bit difficult to go back to sleep, I say we watch something happy.”

“Not Gwemlins!”

“No definitely not,” you chuckle. “I was thinking..Aladdin.”

“Yay! I love Aladdin!,” she claps in Ari’s arms as he picks her up so they both can sit on the couch. To both of your surprise, Grace crawls from her uncle’s lap and squeezes between you and Ari. “You like too?”

“Mhm, I even went as Princess Jasmine for Halloween when I was little.” You have to admit, seeing that gleam of admiration in her eyes as she gazed up at you made you silently thank Ari for showing her that movie. It was the reason behind this bonding moment that you didn’t think would happen.

As the movie played, you and Grace talked about the scenes and of course sung along to your heart’s content not caring if you were off key. All the while Ari watched you both with a soft smile on his pink lips loving how fast of friends you’d become.

And when you both fell asleep - you leaning on his shoulder and her across your lap - he couldn’t help but sneakily take a picture with his phone. Sending it to you with a message saying “looks like you’re amazing and a clear favorite too😉”.

#ari levinson #ari levinson x black!reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x woc #ari levinson au #red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

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glitterarygetsit · 1 year ago

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Goodbye, Fawn

My brilliant friend Fawn (@esterbrook) died on Friday.

Fawn and I met when I was about 24 and she was about 43, and at the time, foolishly, I thought I was the cool one. I very quickly realised that I was wrong, and that Fawn was who I wanted to be when I grew up.

She was independent, funny, smart, and passionate. If there was anything she didn’t like, she would do something about it—she campaigned for abortion rights and did phone banking for US elections. She was sharp and kind and pragmatic and gave amazing advice.

Fawn loved stories and history—we met on an archaeological training dig in York, and later bonded over fic in the Sherlock fandom—and was forever turning up old letters and pens and other things that she breathed new life into. She found a pen at a flea market and tracked down its original owner; she chronicled a WWII romance from a box of photographs (https://www.tumblr.com/a-certain-party-i-love).

For the past twenty years, Fawn kept a diary that will now be donated to a women’s history library. I hope one day someone devotes as much care to her memory as she did to other people’s.

I find it hard to think of many people who are leaving as big a legacy as Fawn. Her activism, writing (also wrote the first book on surviving at work when you have depression), and (towards the end of her life) participation in a clinical trial have helped so many people directly, and will continue to reverberate.

And she’s still not done: even before she was diagnosed with ALS, she arranged to donate her body to forensic science (and wrote about it here: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/28/well/live/my-afterlife-on-the-body-farm.html).

I’m so lucky to have been able to make wonderful memories with Fawn. We went on a road trip in Northumberland and laughed at all the dicks in Chesters Roman fort with her friend Martin, who I would eventually move to Berlin with; she visited us there and baked a derby pie full of bourbon for Friendsgiving. We went to Brittany and got emotional about the Neolithic standing stones at Carnac. We walked all over London and she showed me spots I didn’t even know about despite living there for three years.

In May, I got to visit her in her beloved San Francisco, where she introduced me to tamales, giant redwoods, and her cat Cosmo, successor of Rupert, the fluffiest and most handsome gentleman who accompanied her for most of her last ten years.

We went over and under the Golden Gate bridge, drank many cups of coffee, roamed around the Castro and Haight-Ashbury, waved across the Pacific, browsed bookshops and made sourdough and did laundry and talked until late into the night.

She was diagnosed with ALS less than a year and a half ago, which was the cruellest fucking thing not only because she deserved so much more time on this earth, but because it made talking, eating and living independently—all things she adored—so much more difficult and eventually impossible. She chose to take advantage of California’s aid in dying law and leave on her own terms, because nobody was ever the boss of Fawn, not even death.

Fawn, I miss you already. I always imagined we would one day be old ladies cackling at dirty jokes together, and it’s a crying shame that the world has been robbed of the wicked glint in your eye at least thirty years too early. You changed my life for the better in so many ways, and I still want to be you when I grow up. I love you. Sleep well.

#esterbrook #oh fawn i miss you already #i was so wildly lucky to know her both online and off #she was absolutely brilliant #feels odd not to have written more about our fannish life but i knew her offline first #i’m realising that i may not have read all her fics yet and i now get to do that

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the-cat-chat · 5 months ago

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July 20, 2024

Cast Away (2000)

A FedEx executive undergoes a physical and emotional transformation after crash landing on a deserted island.

Warning: Review may contain spoilers. Read at your own risk.

JayBell: There are so many things about this movie that I love. The first part of the movie shows how much Tom Hanks' character is on the go go go. He's all about efficiency and productivity. Everything is on a schedule, even his personal life. At the same time, he's also a bit of a romantic.

It takes a while to build up to the big crash, but it's great for character building and raising the anticipation. The plane crash scene has pretty good special effects, even by today's standards.

I'm a big fan of survival movies, so I do love watching Tom Hanks' character make mistakes, learn, face setbacks, overcome obstacles. Having Wilson as a way for his character to bond with another "person" is so smart. Although it is strange to be sad about a man's relationship with a volleyball, it's done so well. You really feel like Wilson is the only thing keeping his character sane.

Usually with movies like this, it ends when they get "rescued." I like that they show some of his character's adjustment back into society. (the seafood dinner with food carelessly leftover, the lighter, the too soft mattress, him guzzling water from a bottle).

I only have a few gripes about this movie. One, why are there zero animals or bugs on the island? Yes, there are fish. But nothing else at all? Even a small scene of him killing a bug or chasing off an animal would be cool.

And second, I do think his girlfriend moves on a bit too fast, especially without the closure of his recovered body. If you do some of the math, she basically "grieves" for like 6 months or so, and some of those months were spent still trying to find him. I agree that they shouldn't get back together in the end, but I my brain couldn't help but do the math at the same time.

But I do feel like the ending fits. Now, Tom Hanks' character isn't on a schedule, he doesn't have a plan, which is so different from how he treated life in the beginning of the movie. And I like how the angel artist lady is included throughout the movie before finally appearing at the end, as if it was "meant to be."

P.S. RIP Wilson

P.P.S. I couldn't help but notice as he drives in the final scenes of the movie, he has a brand new Wilson. What on earth is he planning to do? Create a new Wilson with a face and talk to it and carry it around in society? Use it for volleyball? Doesn't that seem disrespectful? idk

Rating: 7.5/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: As this is my second time writing this review bc obviously the universe hates me and disagrees with my opinion on this ammmazing movie, this will be scathing. I hated it I don’t even wanna be nice anymore. I thought it was funny how Tom Hanks was obsessed with time and then forced to be on an island where time really is an illusion. I like the start when he’s still running fedex (totally thought he was ups but whatever) and the plane crash was really well done for the time and then when he’s on the island I start getting peeved. Has this mannnnn ever seen Naked and Afraid. Where’s the fire- it took him so long. He should’ve been a Boy Scout. Uggg. And the knocking his own tooth out. I’m triggered. And loosing Wilson. Lame. He so could got him. This is like Jack and Rose all over again.

And now my reallllll problem. I will not ever be able to watch Helen Hunt again. Okkk. So this guy that gives you a ring the last time you saw him on Christmas right as he’s boarding a plane that will crash- is stuck on an island for 4 years. Ok - Her kid is 2 years old - it takes 9 months to make a baby- ok so we’re already back in time where there’s 1 year and 2 months when she could’ve been hung up over him- soooo in the year following his disappearance- say she waited a month or two for them to find him- okkk we’re at a year grieved another 2 months- quick but okkkkkk met his Root Canal Dentist- which wowwwww- had a wonderful romance so in like 8/10 months after he was missing- I’m sooo sorry she got over him being missing grieved and dated and married this guy would is literally her fiancé nemesis and had a kid wayyyyy to quick. I mean I do t think I ever did anything so quick in my life everrrr. And I still can’t look at Chris Noth. I’m done. For my sanity I have to be. None of the math makes sense to read but you get it. After 2 months??? I think I’ve been dedicated to listening to a song on repeat longer than that.

I am glad he had his little friend to come back to- and I did like the whole angel wings artist lady plot but that veers to unhealthy kinnnnnda???

Rating: I can’t- it had 4/10- but for my mental health now it’s a 2/10 Crabs 🦀

#movie #movie review #film #film review

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bardsandbees · 10 months ago

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Here’s my semi-brief thoughts on the new Avatar show. Spoilers below:

My biggest gripe with the new show is that it’s a prime example of the death of media literacy. SO much of the story has been dedicated to just…info-dumping lore and basically having to say out loud who’s good and who’s bad and how you should feel about each character. It was cool to hear Gran-Gran say the intro of the OG show but she did it as a major exposition bomb. One of MANY especially in the first few episodes. ATLA’s heart is it’s world-building and the relationships between it’s characters, and those things went hand in hand as the OG show progressed. The characters learned from each other and grew as people, and the new show just feels deeply bland and shallow. The characters have been stripped of so many of their most human traits because it makes them seem like bad people, and it needs to be shoved in your face that they’re the good guys, so they can’t possibly have flaws. Sokka can’t be a huge misogynist, Katara can’t be angry and impulsive, Aang can’t be childish, etc. Hell, even Zuko seems to have been dumbed down at the cost of making Iroh seem like the better character, and don’t even get me started on what they’ve done to him. In season one we’re supposed to hate Zuko, so that his redemption arc is all the more compelling. Taking time this early to force out that “he’s a good guy don’t worry!” speaks very poorly to the writing, among other things. Overall it just feels very weak, and like the writers felt the need to spell everything out for audiences. The show starting in the past, while interesting to see and setting the mood quick, it was thematically so absurd and set me up to be disappointed. Aang should never have known about the war and the Fire Nation invasion before he went in the ice, it’s part of what bonds him to Katara in the first place! She teaches him what happened and tries to help him through the emotions of that realization. He comes to terms on his own that he’s the last of his people, he doesn’t have some old lady throw it in his face in a crowd. Listen, there’s some things about this show I actually enjoyed, and it certainly could’ve been worse. But God, I’m not a fan. I hate to say it, but I’m hoping Netflix stays true to themselves and cancels it after this season.

#i could talk for hours about my issues with this #and i know a lot of people will be upset cause they like it #yes it can be fun and camp but it’s trying so hard to be gritty it’s embarrassing #for a kid’s show atla was incredibly nuanced and carried heavy themes and could still be portrayed lightly #this is just trying too hard and still coming up far short #i need to keep talking about this so if you also hated it please dm me #i have so many thoughts #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender

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whatinthe-greenbeans · 11 months ago

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1-98 ask game

Im not gonna answer some of them just cause 1- I’m lazy, and 2- I couldn’t think of an answer. I’ll just put N/A (no answer) for those ones

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Mugs definitely, I love mugs. Teacups are a close second though, those are pretty cool.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubble gum (this also depends on what brand of bubble gum though)

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

I was homeschooled so idk

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Soda cans/bottles, whatever the soda originally came in basically

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Grunge or goth

7. earbuds or headphones?

Headphones 100%

8. movies or tv shows?

tv shows, movies are too much commitment

9. favorite smell in the summer?

This is oddly specific, my mind is blank

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Again, homeschooled. I’ve never done p.e.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

A bowl of cereal

12. name of your favorite playlist?

“More unnamed vibes ✨🕺”

13. lanyard or key ring?

Lanyard

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Skittles

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

The kite runner was really good. I also loved when we read Shakespeare

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

It depends which part of my body hurts that day

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

combat boots

18. ideal weather?

When it’s really sunshiney right after it rains

19. sleeping position?

On my side

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Notes app or google docs if I’m on my laptop

21. obsession from childhood?

✨dinosaurs✨

22. role model?

N/A

23. strange habits?

I have a lot of habits but I wouldn’t say any of them are strange or out of the ordinary? I’m sure there’s something but I can’t think of it right now

24. favorite crystal?

N/A

25. first song you remember hearing?

Idk man that was too long ago for me to recall. Probably some Katy Perry or something??

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Old lady activities- but outside (reading, crocheting, etc but it’s in the sun so it’s 10x better)

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Old lady activities still but it’s inside because cold

28. five songs to describe you?

That requires way more thinking and self awareness than I posses. Ask pyxy maybe they know

29. best way to bond with you?

Literally just hang out or hold an interesting conversation with me

30. places that you find sacred?

N/A

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

I dunno, probably jeans and a cool shirt ?? (I wear the same things every day)

32. top five favorite vines?

I LIKE A LOT OF THEM HOW SHOULD I PICK???

33. most used phrase in your phone?

Probably me yelling ‘KYEL’

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

🕺 Avocados from Mexico 💃🏼

35. average time you fall asleep?

Like how many times per day? Once a night, I don’t nap. If we’re talking how long it takes me to fall asleep then it’s more like an hour+ of laying in bed and staring at the ceiling

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Some of these questions are really challenging my memory

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

Lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Pie

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

N/A

41. last person you texted?

@pyxy-styx

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Jacket pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

I do not like scented soap

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy but I also like sci fi

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

T shirt and leggings /pajama pants

47. favorite type of cheese?

All of the above

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

A peach?? Idk

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

N/A (I can’t think of any rn but I’m sure there is some)

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Watching someone else laugh so hard that water came out of her nose

51. current stresses?

I have a concert coming up soon but I think we’ll be fine

52. favorite font?

Times new Roman (I don’t use a lot of fonts, this one is nice though)

53. what is the current state of your hands?

I’ve colored all over them

54. what did you learn from your first job?

N/A

55. favorite fairy tale?

Dude most of the original fairytales are pretty gruesome, they’re all really cool

56. favorite tradition?

My family is boring we don’t really have specific traditions

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Oh boy do you wanna know (N/A)

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Creative ability in general, specifically with music and crafts like crocheting or sewing. Ig I would also consider my fixation and knowledge on psychology and brain stuff a talent.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

Gaslight Gatekeep Kivenboss

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

N/A (I haven’t watched any anime so)

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“But before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a persons conscience” -Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

62. seven characters you relate to?

Nimona(Nimona), hiccup haddock(HTTYD), Charlie spring(Heartstopper), Peter Parker(specifically the Tom holland MCU spider man), Anne Shirley(Anne of green gables), Katie Mitchell(Mitchell’s vs. the Machines). Kinda basic characters but idc.

63. five songs that would play in your

club?

All the gay songs

64. favorite website from your childhood?

I wasn’t really on the internet as a ki

65. any permanent scars?

Yeah

66. favorite flower(s)?

Marigolds and carnations are really pretty

67. good luck charms?

N/A

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

I’m not typically picky when it comes to the flavor of things, nothing comes to mind that I just really hated the flavor of.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Pretty much everything I know about cannibalism

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

Anything that has so much going on it overloads my brain

72. worst subject?

The one I’m worst in is probably any type of history but I don’t hate any subjects

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

I dislike weird flavor combos in general so I can’t think of any I like

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I could probably get up to a pain level of like 5 or 6 and not even really notice just cause I suck at noticing what’s going on with my body. Pain meds also just don’t really work well for me, so I rarely take any

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I think I was six, almost seven probably?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

French fries 🫶🫶

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

I know nothing about plants. I think plants with vines hanging out of the windowsill would look cool though

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Sushi

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

School ID. I have a horrible rbf in my license photo

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

I grew up saying fireflies but lighting bugs is so much cooler

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcast

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology?

I don’t know much about mythology but it’s cooler so I pick mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes?

87. your greatest fear?

I don’t actually know

88. your greatest wish?

My father dies (/hj)

89. who would you put before everyone else?

Your mom

90. luckiest mistake?

N/A

91. boxes or bags?

Depends what I’m putting in them

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

lamps and other alternative lighting over the big lights any day

93. nicknames?

My legal name + the nickname that goes with it (I hate these), my preferred name + nickname of my preferred name, kiven, plus whatever random crap my friends come up with

94. favorite season?

Autumn

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr (im a mobile user, tragic I know) or Spotify

96. desktop background?

A drawing of a rainy day

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

All in all it’s around eight

98. favorite historical era?

The renaissance was pretty cool. Industrial Revolution era is also really fascinating

This took way too fucking long to do but here it is

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manofmanymons · 11 months ago

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thanks so much for responding to my ask about Ryo x Minoru!! the stuff you wrote was so cute, especially the “this could be us”picture (I 100% could see Minoru sending that) also the idea you had of them kissing because they thought they were gonna die…your mind omg. I could also see them doing one of those “thank god we’re alive” kisses where they thought they were gonna die but when they live they’re so happy and that the other person is happy that they just. smooch lol

also I did see that other post you made about them and I loved it! but it’s funny that you see everyone being shocked when they say they’re together because I hc that they’d both be super obvious even when they try to hide that they like each other (esp Minoru, the word subtle isn’t in that boy’s dictionary). if either of them confided in Kaito for whatever reason, I can 100% picture him saying in the most deadpan voice, “congrats, you’re officially the last one to know.” I think it would specifically be obvious because they’d talk about each other all the time, even if it was about things that “annoyed” them and then trying too hard to play it cool by immediately following up with “not that I care about him or anything!!!1!” or something like that.

I just think they’re neat and I’m honestly surprised that there aren’t more people who ship them. like they spend a good amount of time together, they both have come running when the other one is distressed, and I also noticed that falcomon is the only kemonogami who can understand kunemon, and since the kemonogami represent their partner’s hearts, I feel like it shows that they both understand each other. also if Minoru gets captured by dokugumon in chapter 1, ryo will complain about Minoru being a pain, which makes Minoru mad, but falcomon reassures him that Ryo’s just making such a fuss because he was worried about Minoru (which Ryo denies and gets embarrassed over ofc).

on a less serious note, I feel like they would be kinda like those two old guys from the muppets once they start dating where they bond over roasting other people/each other. I also get reminded of them when I see that one post where it’s like “I had a crush on someone in my class and didn’t know how to deal with it so I just wrote a letter that said ‘get out of my school.’” like they both are soft™️ on the inside but have such a hard time expressing it.

sorry i totally rambled about them but it’s just nice to see someone else who ships this rare pair!! i wish more people enjoyed it/wrote about it! I literally made one of those dumb comic sans powerpoints about them one day because I was bored and because digimon survive hyperfixation™️ and because i freakin love them. so thanks so much, i really appreciate it!! 💕

Y'know what anon, I see the vision. I see the poorly concealed crush disguised as annoyance. Them thinking everyone would be surprised only to be met with "guys we literally all knew." I love that we both decided they would not shut up about each other though XD

AND DUDE YEAH I LOVE THAT SCENE. EVEN IN THE BEGINNING WHEN THEY DIDN'T GET ALONG WELL AT ALL RYO WAS STILL WORRIED ToT

Also 100% in love with the idea of their partners being a reflection of how well they get each other. You're so big brained aaaaaah.

They absolutely would talk shit together lmao. Mean old ladies on a porch swing except they're both teenage boys XD Also why are they actually both the "he's bullying you because he likes you" one in the relationship ToT

I am dying to know about this powerpoint lakdjfakj I also am surprised more people don't ship it tbh like at least for me they are like THE pairing from the game that falls the most into my usual preferred tropes. Annoyances to friends to lovers. Sunshine x grumpy except they're both a little grumpy. "He's an idiot but he's MY idiot." Rowdy boys. "I hate you (affectionate)." They're so good together. They should kith.

ALSO BC YOU SAID "not that I care about him or anything!!!1!" YOU REMINDED ME OF SOMETHING NOT QUITE RELATED BUT FUNNY ENOUGH TO SHARE. ONE TIME WHEN I WAS COHOSTING MY FRIEND'S SURVIVE STREAM, I WAS VOICING RYO, AND SOMEONE CALLED HIM A TSUNDERE, SO--

I should provide further context that she has a point redeem for talking in a high pitched voice so that's why we were talking like that lmao.

AND ONE LAST THING: DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR RAMBLING I AM LITERALLY SO THRILLED TO READ SOMEONE ELSE'S CUTE HC'S ABOUT THEM <3

#digimon survive #minoru hinata #ryo tominaga

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writingsofwesteros · 2 years ago

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I’ve just finished HotD and I would like to say.. what the actual fuck?

Why did Rhaenys have to fly through the floor of the dragon pit and crush half of the people there? Like if that doesn’t make people hate the blacks already I don’t know what will. I’d want them all dead if that was me. There was no point in that happening, unnecessary death of innocent people for nothing. It didn’t prove she was a “badass” or “cool” it just goes to show the people they’re just going to be collateral damage of a war that they want no part in.

As sad as it is too, Rhaenyra was going to lose baby Visenya either way. That wasn’t on Alicent and people saying that it’s her and the greens fault that she’s lost her daughter is genuinely disgusting. That wasn’t on them, Visenya was deformed and born with dragon like qualities. It’s awful yes and I could never imagine that but it’s the price that have to pay for all of the incest in the family and their ancestors using black magic to gain more power so they could magically bind with the dragons, it happens to a few women and it’s always as sad as the last.

Rhaenyra saying “My lady mother was an Arryn, they will not turn against their own kin.” is actually hilarious because isn’t their house motto ‘as high as honour’ yet she has none.. like your mother wouldn’t be happy about what you’ve pulled (I’m going off the books for this part, even so it counts for the series) I’m not having she’d be happy and proud about what she’s done to get to where she is and all the lies she’s pulled the amount of times she’s thrown around the word treason to cover up her own treasons. I mean Jane Arryn literally got her seat without doing what Rhaenyra has done and she was an actual girlboss.

Why have they made Aegon a rapist? He wasn’t the best person I’ll admit and he did fondle and make crude remarks to women but he never did anything with anyone to any women against their will. He was even forced to bed Helaena, he had to be drunk for it. They were both kids forced into something that neither one wanted, it would’ve been traumatic for both. It’s like no one can comprehend that no one is a good person in this series. It’s not black and white like a marvel film where there’s good guys and bad guys, everyone is grey that was the point of the books, no one is nice and they prove that - besides Helaena she’s a saint and can do no wrong!

Can we just take a minute to appreciate the true kings and queens of Kings Landing - the dragon keepers! They literally take care and handle the dragons in sandals and tunics with a bloody stick.. the Targaryens love to show the power they have with dragons yet the dragon keepers are the ones who do all the scary work with them, they teach them how to deal and bond with their own dragons! Legends they are.

What’s about to happen with Blood & Cheese is in no way acceptable for a son for a son. That is nowhere near the same as Lucerys dying that was a literal 5 year old toddler, I doubt he could even write his own name properly yet, it’s not retribution it’s just cold blooded murder of a baby. I will forever hate them for what happened to him, it’s awful and I’m not ready to watch that.

ALL OF THIS!

Why did Rhaenys state that the greens are coming for you Rhaenyra and your children..like um, what gave you that impression?? Just so dramatic and it's annoying

Also Daemon saying Alicent killed his brother....???Seriously !!??

And the children fighting pits? He's literally like a disney villain and it's pathetic

#opinion submission

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primusfortuna · 1 year ago

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Rouge ⟡ Love Wrapped in Ribbons of Gratitude (Sun 01)

[Normal Route] [XX] [02] [03] [Moon Route]

“The Singing Bard’s Song of Love”

A few days after Rouge-san and I picked out presents... Love Day arrived before we knew it―

As part of the plan, Rouge-san was scheduled to sing at the town square today.

Emma: Is everything ready?

Rouge: Yeah! I tuned my lyre and my throat feels raring to go. I’m in tip top shape to sing out my love.

Rouge: Of course, we can’t forget... your cheers of love to top it all off!

Emma: Ah, Rouge-san, let me tie your hair back with a ribbon. It’ll be symbolic for Love Day.

Rouge: I see your fondness for brushing me off remains undefeated~

Standing behind Rouge-san while he sits on the sofa, I begin to tie his long hair with a ribbon.

Rouge: Thanks ♪ Also... could I see your ribbon? I’m pretty sure you had one.

Emma: ? Sure, take it.

When I hand him my own ribbon, he gently ties it around my wrist.

Rouge: As one of us preachers, you’ve got to wear yours, too.

Rouge: ...Okay, all done. Mhm, super cute.

Emma: ...Thank you.

Rouge: Alright, should we get going now?

(Rouge stands up)

Rouge: Your hand, princess.

Emma: Hehe, my pleasure.

Just like before, I wrap my hand around his arm.

I begin to feel the heat of his body from where we touch. The comfortable warmth puts my mind at total ease.

Middle-Aged Man: Oh! You’re finally here, Rouge!

Old Woman: I’m eager to hear you sing today...!

Emma: (He’s got all these people cheering for him just by showing up... Even I’m getting anxious.)

Rouge: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so very much for your patience. Please, listen to the story of this humble bard, Rouge.

Rouge: As we spin together ever-changing dreams with song... Allow me to once again transport you to a world far from our own.

Rouge: I’m about to unravel a tale of parting and reunion between the prince and princess of a far-off land.

At times, with heartache... At others, with passion... The delicate notes of his lyre and his crystal-clear voice spin a tale―

―of love between the prince and princess. Once separated, they found each other again through a ribbon.

Emilio: Beautiful. This might sound rude, but... heh. He’s like a completely different person.

Cyrus: Yeah... Words can’t describe how wonderful it sounds.

Rouge: My beloved, bring me to your side. My beloved, may we find our hearts once more entwined.

Emma: (Rouge-san... I wonder what he thinks about when he sings those lyrics.)

Emma: (I don’t know why, but they resonate deeply with me...)

Rouge: It’s for your own good. It’s because I love you. —— Those beautifully dressed words make it hard sometimes. Rouge: As a rule, I try not to give away anything that can last. Rouge: Think of it this way. I’m the wandering bard Rouge-san. Footloose and fancy free, I go wherever the wind blows. Rouge: So I don’t really have much, and I try not to leave anything behind.

Emma: (I have to make sure he knows.)

Emma: (That I’d be... heartbroken if he disappeared.)

Rouge: ―And so, they formed a powerful bond. Our story of love brought about through a ribbon has reached its end.

As soon as Rouge-san bows, thunderous cheers and applause rumble through the square.

Emma: Good job out there! That was incredible!

Rouge: Thank you ♪

Rouge: I don’t know why, but I feel a lot more―

(A boy runs up and tackles Rouge)

Rouge: Huh!? Woah!?

Boy: Mister! You were so cool! That had my heart pounding the whole time...!

Rouge: Geez~ that was a mighty tackle! Hehe. You kept your promise of coming.

Emma: It’s you...!

Boy: I’m sorry. But I think I like singing better than trai— Mother: You think singing some silly songs will bring you to knighthood? I’m saying this for your own good. Come with me!

Boy: Guess what? Me and him are friends now! I even brought my mom today, like he said!

Emma: Rouge-san, when did this happen...?

Rouge: Err~... This kid eagerly came to find me back then, and uh, one thing led to another...

Rouge: I did something I wouldn’t usually do.

Emma: ...Don’t say that.

Boy: Hey hey, Mom! Didn’t you think his singing was, like, so cool?

Mother: ......

Rouge: ...Hello.

Rouge: How’d you like my song?

Mother: ...Awful.

Emma: (Huh...?)

← Prev ❖ Next →

#yumekuro translations #yumekuro #ymkr #meister story #rouge #love wrapped in ribbons of gratitude

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saltysskin · 1 year ago

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Like a Ghost

König x f!reader// noncon creepy desperate colonel (NSFW // MDNI) mention of masturbation

Little did either of us know, one of König’s colleagues, Simon or Ghost, followed him last night. He kept close but out of sight, relying on König to be too distracted to detect him. They’d been friends for years, working on too many jobs to count. So when König started showing up hours late to training multiple nights in a row he became concerned. At first sight of me ghost was surprised, not expecting to find König alone with a pretty blonde girl. He’d never seen me on base before, and was interested in knowing how König managed to find me first. Knowing König was a introvert, being completely uninterested of going out to clubs or out at all; but what he didn’t know was that neither did I. Bonding over being touch starved from lack of intimacy platonic and romantic. Simon kept this up nearly the entire night, but decided to bail once he ended up finding himself in a scrapyard watching his good friend potentially get laid. “You're not gonna fuckin’ believe this,” Simon busted into the shared barracks, where his other colleagues lived. With Soap, Price and Gaz all in ear shot; Ghost couldn't help but spill his discovery. “König has a girlfriend,” He confessed, with only scoffs and laughs in response. “No fuckin’ way,” Soap grunted, looking over to read the room. “He tell you that?” Price asked, not entertained in the slightest. “I followed him,” Simon confessed, “Sounds romantic,” Gaz laughed out loud. “He was late to training twice,” He elaborated. “He went to her dorm, and when she wasn’t there, he waited for 2 hours.” Simon leaned against the wall facing the men, “When she got home, she had a little black dress on, so they went for a walk,” Ghost continued, “And?” Price was intrigued now, everyone was. “I followed em, to an old shit spot,” Simon continued, “Did you watch em?” Soap laughed, “I can’t imagine seein’ that man fuck anything,” Gaz elbowed Price. “I left after I heard her called König a good boy,” He cleared his throat, making the whole room erupt in laughter. “König’s gotta girlfriend,” Soap laughed to himself, “About time,” Price admitted.

I was in the gym earlier than usual, hating every second of it. Too many people, having to weave in between people to get to different weights. It'd been about an hour before I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Glancing over I noticed a familiar face, staring at me. When he approached me I noticed who he was, my roommates boyfriend. “Hey D,” He greeted me, “Hey,” I replied, turning to him now. “How's it going?” Something was off, he seemed nervous. “It's going, you know,” I answered vaguely. "I gotta question for ya," he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, my intrigue was short lived when he elaborated. “You dating the colonel now?” My cheeks burned from his words, making me brush my hair behind my ear. “Where’d you hear that?” I asked him, keeping my cool, and if I’m honest I didn’t really know the answer. “Y’all went to movie night together, right?” He asked me, “He asked me, yeah.” I answered, He began making comments about König, calling him a ‘Machine,’ and ‘cold blooded,’ as he continued to ramble I couldn’t wrack my brain on what his name was. “Have you seen his face yet? What’s he look like?” he asked, Not being able to read the room, this man I barely knew continued fangirling over König. I understood the obsession, laughing at him as he continues to converse with himself. I was able to eventually slip away from him, out of the gym. Ducking into the ladies room, I gathered my things out of my locker, hearing my phone buzzing against the metal. I grabbed it glancing at it to read the time, then glanced down noticing a few missed messages.

König: Have you eaten today?

König: Let’s grab lunch?

König: Let me know

Daisy: Heading to the mess hall now!

König: Saved you a seat x

I couldn’t shake the comments that were made about König. Cold blooded, I thought, I mean he doesn’t show his face often, mainly wearing a sniper hood. How normal can he be? Being cast out breeds a specific type of person, a silent rage that lurks. Id made it to the mess hall, it was practically empty. Weaving in between tables, I finally found him, how could I miss him? “König,” I cooed, touching his shoulder as he turned around to face me. “Hallo, blume,” His mask was tucked up exposing his face, since he was eating and all. “Blume?” I wondered out loud, while scooting closer to the table. He looked up at me, acknowledging my curiosity, allowing a smile to creep into the corners of his mouth. “Oh uh, it’s flower in German,” wiping his mouth as he chewed his food. “Flower?” I repeated, smiling into my fingers that covered my mouth in an attempt to keep my cool. Looking up at him, meeting his eyes with mine. So that’s what your smile looks like, I thought. Burning it into my brain for later. After eating, I sat back in my chair, filled to the brim with food, I pushed my nearly empty plate towards König’s pile of empty plates. “I had someone ask me if we were dating today,” I tried to be casual. He looked up at me, not able to read his face, I studied his body language, which was tense and fidgety. “And?” König sat back in his chair now, I shrugged, “seemed like quite the fan of you though,” I added while looking away. “What is this?” He asked while shrugging, I laughed in response, “Inconclusive,” I crossed my arms, making him shift where he sat. “I thought it was obvious when you were calling me a good boy,” His voice was gruff and flirty, I swallowed hard. “I suppose I should’ve made it clearer,” He continued, “Two fingers maybe wasn’t enough,” grinning now as he pulled his mask back down, retreating back underneath. My face was glowing red, as I sat across from him, while he was saying these things. “Don’t be embarrassed, you were a sight.” He hummed at me, “You think about that night a lot Colonel?” I asked him annoyed, “Only when I’m alone,” He answered confidently. “Do you? Ever think about that night?” König asked leaning in towards me. All the time, I thought. That morning I went home only to find small hickeys that he left on my thighs. His dried saliva was stained on my skin, making me hesitant to shower. I fluttered my eyes at him, nervous from the question. “All the time,” I answered vaguely, brushing my hair behind my ear while looking away. He watched me shrink where I sat, “Sucking on my mask trying to find my mouth,” He laughed, “Adorable,” He continued shaking his head. My gaze softened when he called me adorable, having to remind myself that I wasn’t the only desperate one here. “You were the one on your knees,” I tilted my head, “I couldn’t even touch you without you wincing, you were practically leaking,” I tried humiliating him, only for him to relish in it. Begging me to continue, “Go on blume,” He insisted resting his head on his hand. His big blue eyes kept me in a daze, longing for me from across the table.

The first time König noticed me I’d just gotten back to base after being deployed with my unit for two weeks, in the middle of nowhere with no electricity or running water. I was standing in one of the hangers, unloading my gear into my locker. I peeled off the layers of my clothes, making grunts and groans. Leaving only my tank top on and sand fatigue pants. The dirt rose above me like a cloud, I sat down on a bench, before pulling my tanned dirty balaclava off my of head. My thick blonde curls bursting at the seams as the snug cloth began to move. My hair was long falling by my sides and down my back, pushing my fingers through it to remove the dust. König’s never see me before, arriving at my base while I was gone. He stood not too far from me, I reckon I was too whipped to notice him. He was too worried to approach me, in fear that I wouldn’t know who he was, pathetically relying on his title as Colonel to have an excuse to talk to me. While lost in his thoughts, I’d disappeared in the women’s showers, so he waited. The water that washed off of me was muddy, the steam kept my muscles tender and relaxed. Washing my hair multiple times, while brushing my teeth as well. Scrubbing myself until my arms were tired. It was almost like clock work, I dried off, got dressed and headed out to meet up with Captain Price. It was only a meeting, afterwards my plans were to retreat back to my dorm and remain dormant. König followed me, half way across base trying to decipher his next move. I allowed my hair to air dry, leaving the curls coiled but a little frizzy. I wish I cared, I was running on fumes. “There you are!” I heard him call across the room, “About time,” He continued, “Yes sir,” I replied, before he invited me into his office. I sat down, as we went over the details of my last deployment, I filled him in. The details weren’t groundbreaking but needed to be treated with care anyway. I was thorough in my paperwork, dotting all of my i’s and crossing my t’s. The topic at hand was naturally annoying, questioning why I used which medicine and for what. After about 20 minutes of debating and arguing there was a loud knock coming from the door. “What?” Price called out, assuming it was a grunt, I turned to watch the door open only for a large figure to step into the room. “Colonel,” Price stood up and approached him, I followed his lead doing the same. Price greeted König as if they were boys, because they were. I stood up and approached the 6’7 ft man, who wore a sniper hood most of the time, that isn’t terrifying at all. “Colonel,” I greeted, reaching for his hand. He accepted my hand, keeping his grip soft, holding my hand for a moment, longer than usual, the only person that noticed was me. Making eye contact with him, I kept my cool. Allowing his ice blue eyes to study me, in a gross state. König humored Price, hitting his arm as they shook hands, “Colonel this is Daisy Kay, she’s the lead medic on her unit,” Price kept it short and sweet. During the intense discussion between Price and I, König waited, after watching me enter his office. Impatiently, deciding to intrude on our meeting, playing dumb as if he had no idea and apologized. “Excuse me, nice meeting you,” He hurried out of the room, once he got the information he needed he disappeared for multiple days.

He didn’t mean to start stalking me, it started with him peaking at my file; looking for me online. “So many friends..” He hummed while lurking through my instagram. Looking at pictures of me and my friends in Europe one summer, lucky for him there were plenty of them. His face burned seeing me in a bikini online, ruffling his feathers; over someone who wasn’t his. Shamelessly saving his favorite photos of me on his phone. Reading the comments under every photo, creeping on the men who dare to like or comment. He was trying to understand my type, hoping to chameleon his way into my life. “Blonde maybe? or brown?” He mumbled to himself, sitting on his phone like a teenager. None of the men König snuffed out were anything like him, which worried him. Losing track of time between days, skipping on his training, he eventually found himself outside of my window. Intrigued at how unaware I was, poor thing, he thought, as one of his hands started massaging his bulge. To his credit, I had very little clothing on and even began to masturbate at one point. He watched me closely, trying to see my face when I climax. It wasn’t until later when Price made himself known to König. It was late now, and only Price knows why he was even there, but when König saw him, he didn’t rush to hide or start to panic. He put himself away like normal before turning to Price, moving away from the window to talk. “Do I even wanna know?” Price was surprised and shocked, a little pissed too. König didn’t have an explanation, it was exactly what it looked like. They stood there in the dark, awkwardly. “What the fuck am I suppose to make of this?” Price bitched, “A colonel jerkin’ it outside of a medics window?” He continued, getting closer to König now. “You’d lose everything if I were someone else,” König kept eye contact as he always has. König said nothing. He took the heat from Price happily, having shared the same thoughts as the captain. “Thats what scares you König? Not any of the jobs we’ve pulled, but her?” Price was baring his teeth now. “Pathetic,” He added, König took that opportunity to look down, breaking the eye contact now. Price studied König after chewing him out, he’d never seen him this way before. “How long you been doin’ this, K?” Price wondered out loud, “One month? Two?” He looked away from König, standing in the dark, awkwardly Price made a decision. “You’re getting her number tomorrow, so that this stops,” Price demanded.

#fanfic #könig fanfiction #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig #konig headcanons #konig modern warfare #könig x reader

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shamelessrabbithole · 9 months ago

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His first audition for The Giver didn't go as smoothly as planned… "[Brenton & I] have a scene where there’s physical confrontation between us and shove each other a bit. And I shoved him and he shoved me back and I took the shove and reacted to it and pushed myself against the wall. And the last time we did the scene he pushed me and I fell through the wall of the casting office and left a huge hole the shape of my body. Anyway, I literally left an impression. And then I got the movie."

And surprisingly he didn't read The Giver until after he got the role." No [I didn't read it]. I originally got the audition and got the script and then as I went further with the project I went back and read the book. "

On what he and The Giver cast would do when the cameras weren't rolling:" The cast is fantastic! Everyone got along really well. We enjoyed each other’s company. We had a lot of musical people in the cast. Jeff Bridges plays guitar, Taylor Swift…we’d all get together and have jam sessions together. One of us would play guitar and one of us would sing. That was really cool to have some fun musical bonding experiences together."

But he wasn't always as calm, cool and collected about working with such big-name actors…"I really admire Meryl Streep and Jeff Bridges. I grew up watching their movies since I was little. They were a couple actors who kind of gave me the idea you can do amazing things as an actor and enchant your audience in a way that inspired me for the rest of my life. So to have the chance to do a movie with them and have scene where I interact with Meryl was so cool."

His book-to-movie adaptation isn't the only one he's excited for…"I grew up as a big comic reader so this is a fascinating time for comic movies where I get to see all these heroes I grew up watching. I’m really interested in seeing the Batman/Superman movie and what they’re planning with those characters."

But which comic movie is his favorite? "I think the original Super Man movies were such a huge part of my childhood so purely for nostalgia’s sake…The Avengers movie was also amazing. The new Captain America was fantastic. Also, X-Men was really great. There’s some great movies now."

On if he'd be back for a Vampire Academy sequel: "Yeah totally! I had a great time shooting the first one. Being able to be in London for a couple months was certainly not too bad either. And I think the second book has a lot of untapped potential for things we didn’t get to do for the first movie. There’s great dramatic storylines and interesting twists to the story I think people would really appreciate. So if the opportunity came around, sure!"

And if he keeps in touch with his VA cast mates" Zoey [Deutch] and I are very good friends. I haven’t gotten a chance to see her in awhile. I miss her! I see Sarah Hyland all the time. Pretty much all of the young cast in that movie has stayed in touch and are good friends."

Although he wouldn't admit it, we think he's had a crush on one of his leading ladies…" Thank god I’m not on camera right now, I’m blushing! I can’t admit to that! I see people too often. I'll leave that as a strong maybe. I’m not going to say who though…"

On which of his characters would win in The Hunger Games: "Ian Gallagher from Shameless has military training so I think that would come in handy. I’ve also played a number of psychopath murderers, so I’m thinking one of those guys."

https://web.archive.org/web/20140907222523/http://www.teen.com/2014/06/12/celebrities/cameron-monaghan-facts-bio-trivia/#10

Oh, cool. Sounds like he may have had a crush on Zoey, which is another explanation for why they look so cozy in old pics together. Thanks for sending this!

#shameless tea #shamelessrabbithole #ask me stuff #ask me anything #cam and zoey

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rek1s-headband · 4 years ago

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Oh oh! Can we get some hedcanons about cherry adopting a girl who is around miya's age. Like how close would they be and how would others feel about her being his daughter now. Bonus points if uncel Joe and little missy mess with daddy blossom

Xoxo love your work so far, keep it up💙

➯ A/N: This was such an amazing request, I had so much fun writing it! Hope you enjoy :)

Also, i started watching Your Lie in April today, and its AMAZING! So much more than what I was expecting

➯ With a daughter

➯ Characters: Kaoru Sakurayashiki with a young daughter. Reki, Langa and co. are mentioned throughout!

➯ Warnings: none:)

Having a child had never crossed Kaoru’s mind before, but when Joe had teased him about how “you treat Carla better than you would a child!”, the idea kind of stuck with him. And so, he’d spent countless nights awake, wondering to himself if it was something he truly wanted?

He’d pass parks, seeing parents with spewing babies and toddlers throwing tantrums, wondering if he could actually put up with that? But as he passed the shops, he came across a mother and her daughter, who looked around 12. He watched them pass, a grin on the child’s face as she looked into her shopping bag, examining her haul for that day. And so it was settled

He wanted a baby girl he could spoil absolutely rotten

And the search for a child carried on, and this time instead of baby shops and websites, he was browsing the shelves of Claires and other tween clothing stores. It had only occurred to him over a bottle of wine with Joe, as they were discussing if Kaoru was truly ready for something like this. Instead of a crying baby or a messy toddler, he could simply adopt someone a bit older!

It made sense too. For a single parent, an older child seemed much more doable. Of course, he wouldn’t be alone. Joe was always telling him how he’d help out, yknow, if he actually went through with the damn thing.

Not to mention, the older you get, the more difficult it is to get adopted. Babies and young children will get adopted left right and centre, whereas the child he will take home will have been there for a while. Finally, they will have a place to call a home

He spent months trying to get the approval for adoption, and one fateful day he finally got the letter that yes he could go ahead and take one home. He was ecstatic, spending the next few days finding out the location of every orphanage around his area of Japan. He messaged every single one, asking when their next visiting day was

And so it was set: Kaoru would not rest until he had found his perfect little girl

He went through orphanage after orphanage, searching for someone he could call his own. However, none of the children were lighting that paternal flame inside him. It wasn’t their fault of course, they just didn’t click with him, staring at him any time he tried to talk to them. Visit after visit, he’d go to Joe’s, ready to tell him about his recent fail.

It wasn’t until Joe came up to him with a phone number, asking if he’d been to this particular orphanage yet. Apparently they had a few children aged 12 and up, and were available for visit that Saturday. And so there he was, packing a bag and getting ready to travel to the house. This time felt different, somehow. He could feel his palms sweat, as if he could sense he would take one of them home

When he finally made it to the house, he was a nervous wreck. The lady of the house let him in with a smile, telling him the children were in the backyard playing while she bounced a baby on her hip. Cherry winced as the baby gurgled at him, glad he opted for an older child

She led him outside, gesturing at the children who were sprinting around in the vast field, hiding behind trees and bushes. It was clear they were playing a game of hide and seek. He smiled as he scanned over them, but it quickly disappeared when he noticed one little girl sitting on the step, head in her lap while her shoulders gently shook with tears

He walked over to her, bending down with a soft smile. He didn’t know where this sudden calmness came from, but that was his last priority right now. A little gash sat on the girls knee, caked with blood as it trickled down her shin. He frowned, pulling out a tissue to gently wipe it. She jumped, wincing with shock from the fresh wave of pain, and surprise. Kaoru gently wiped at her knee once more before looking up at her to attempt a conversation

“Hello, is your knee alright?” She shook her head frantically, wiping a tear away from her face. A small breathy laugh escaped him as he watched the child stand, gesturing to her leg

“Nope, not at all. I think its broken, if you ask me. All cause of that stupid thing!” She threw her arm out, gesturing to a pink board Kaoru hadn’t noticed before. A skateboard.

That’s when Kaoru realised it: I want this one

Suddenly he felt a new sense of importance, like he had to make a good impression. He walked over to the board, tutting as he looked down at it. “This is what hurt you?” He looked at it with disdain as the little girl nodded her head violently. Kaoru could see how she hurt herself, the thing was massive, especially for someone her age. It looked around the size of a board he would use.

Grinning, he picked up the board. “Well, want to see something cool?” She watched in wonder as kaoru stood on it, pushing off and turning quickly, popping an ollie over a stray toy. The little girl jumped, throwing her arms up as she cheered Kaoru on. He finished with a flourish, coming back to stand beside her. “What did you think?” She was speechless, simply moving her hands, saying scattered “wows” and making various sound effects. Kaoru smiled, certain that he could teach her more.

When he realized visiting time was coming to a close, he proposed the idea to the girl, who’s name he had come to know was Lily: he’d come back next week, and he’d bring his board. He even promised to find her a smaller boar perfect for her to learn on, saying he knew a friend who could make her one. From there he would teach her the basics of skateboarding, even a couple of tricks once she got that down. She was delighted, bouncing up and down and declaring she couldn’t wait, all the energy of someone much younger than her. Kaoru found he couldn’t stop smiling himself either

He made his way back through the house, Lily skipping alongside him. He explained the plan to the Lady, that he would come back next week for another visit. Just as he was about to leave, he turned to the lady to request one final thing from her

“Make sure no one snatches her up from me while I’m gone, yeah?”

Needless to say a bottle of wine was opened at Joe’s that night in celebration of Lily, the potential daughter

And so the weeks turned into months, and Kaoru returned each week with his board and some sweets for her and the other children, teaching her everything she needed to know about skateboarding. After a month or so she could confidently ollie without bailing, and next time he visited she displayed it with delight, watching Kaoru’s face light up with pride.

She had taken a real liking to Kaoru, according to the Lady. She refused to pay any other visitors any notice, declaring they “simply weren’t Kaoru.” This is what finally made him realise that maybe it was time to ask if she’d like to live with him from now on, where she could practice with him every day.

When he asked her, Kaoru could’ve sworn he actually saw stars in her eyes. She simply lit up, throwing herself at Kaoru, tears streaming down her face as she shouted yes, of course she would. she wasn’t the only one crying, Kaoru could barely see from the tears in his own eyes, the lady dabbing at hers with a tissue

Once the paperwork was complete and Lily was his, he felt a weight had been taken off his shoulders. He had packed her a new change of clothes the day he went to collect her, bringing Joe along with him for emotional support. Lily came flying at him the second he got out of his car, wrinkling her nose at Joe

“You never told me you had a boyfriend, Kaoru” she stuck her tongue out at him from over his shoulder while they both tried to convince her that no, they weren’t a couple, before she ran upstairs to get changed. Joe turned to Kaoru, an almost offended look on his face

“Why were you so adamant that we weren’t together??” “I dont need her worrying she’s going home to a Gorrila” “HEY”

Once they all got home, they threw a little party at Joe’s who had closed a little early specially for it. Kaoru didn’t let her out of his sight, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable with all the new people. Of course, it was only Joe, Shadow, Reki, Langa and Miya, all of whom she would meet eventually, but he still worried in case she got overwhelmed.

She made quick friends with Reki, who was ecstatic from the moment he realised she could skate. The two bonded over it, talking about tricks they’d learned, Reki shouting over at Kaoru because why hadn’t he taught him anything??

Miya was a bit standoffish at first, but when she saw the switch in his hand, the two were instantly bonding over who had better villagers in Animal Crossing, and who had passed more levels in Mario with three stars

As the months went on, Lily really settled into her new life in Okinawa, starting at school in Miyas class. The two were joined at the hip, Miya often coming home to Kaoru’s so they could practice together, or simply study and watch some movies. Reki constantly teased the shit out of the two, talking about how he heard “wedding bells”. This comment earned him a swift whack into the skull from Kaoru, warning him not to tease his little girl

Soon enough Kaoru was making her own skateboard with built-in Carla, who helped her skating improve insanely. As Kaoru said, she was definitely a chip off the old block. Langa and Reki would take her to the skate park with them, helping her land new tricks and would take videos of her to send to Kaoru

Shadow was like a chill uncle to her, bringing her flowers for her room and taking her out to get some clothes and ice cream. Joe was like an uncle too, but a much more untrustworthy one. Would he take her to the park, or would he take her to parts of downtown she definitely shouldn’t have been? Who knows, certainly not Kaoru...

Poor Kaoru can never get a minutes peace. Every second of the day she’s plotting something, waiting for him to let his guard down so she can pounce, scaring the shit out of him. When the others are around its 10x worse, all of them ganging up on him to pull pranks

As well as skateboarding, Kaoru tried to teach her how to do calligraphy. She ended up being awful, blotting the ink and smearing it with her hand. But hey, it was a fun art project that made it onto the fridge

At S, she was watched like a hawk. When Kaoru was competing,the others would be like her bodyguard, making sure no one got within 5 feet of her. She’d watch her dad with wonder, the look of awe never leaving her face since the first day she saw him skate. She can’t wait for the day she can compete, maybe even beating her own dad

The first time Lily called Kaoru “dad” was when he won a race, showing off some amazing skills and winning the insanely close match by a hair. He picked up his board, looking around for Lily. He saw her in the crowd, throwing her arms up and cheering “THATS MY DAD!! LOOK, RIGHT THERE, THATS MY DAD!” When she spotted him, a large grin spread across her face. “Nice job out there dad! You did amazing!! D’you think I can do that one day?”

Everyone was staring at her, she hadn’t even realised she had said anything out of the ordinary. Soon enough Kaoru was lunging at her, picking her up in a hug so she didn’t see the tears quickly forming on his face. With a smile he pulled away, his voice dripping with pride

“Of course you could. You’re my daughter, aren’t you?”

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heyyyharry · 3 years ago

Text

Part 2: Elvis Song

(inspired by Elvis Song by Maisie Peters)

Part 1: I’m Trying (Not Friends)

A/N: HAPPY NOVEMBER EVERYONE!!!

When Harry saw Y/N on the tube after months, he didn’t believe in his own eyes. He had a car and would try to avoid the tube as much as he could. The heat. Rude people. The noises. He hated it. But as he stepped onto the train today, he was glad his sister had borrowed his car.

Y/N didn’t see him. She was gazing out of the window with her earphones on, but he knew she wasn’t listening to music. She didn’t do that on the tube because she had to pay attention to the announcements so she wouldn’t miss her stop.

“It’s an anxiety thing,” she had said. “I tend to daydream.”

“Well, I’m here with you. I’ll make sure you won’t miss your stop,” he had replied.

She had smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’d rather talk to you than listen to music.”

The doors were shut and the train started running. He stood by the entrance observing her for a moment before he approached. He didn’t know what to say to someone you hadn’t spoken to for months. Not just anyone, but his ex whom he’d done wrong. ‘Hello’ would be too formal, so he went with, “Have you been avoiding me?”

Straight to the point.

Y/N’s scream startled an old lady on the row opposite from her and a few people nearby. There were only five people aside from them on this carriage. She looked at him, her lips parted yet no word got out, so he sat down beside her. As she instinctively reached for her bag on her other side, he knew she wished she’d placed her bag where he sat. So she had been avoiding him.

“Have you been avoiding me?” he repeated the question, annoyed yet a bit sad.

“No, I haven’t.” She tucked a strand behind her ear without making eye contact. She always did that when she lied. “I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to even answer a single text message?”

“Your last message to me wasn’t that important.”

“Of course it was! It was good-quality meme,” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “And before that I’d asked you how your classes been!”

Y/N shrugged, still looking at her feet. “Fine. I mean my classes. They’ve been fine. Okay.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve been avoiding me.” She said nothing. “Have you been seeing someone? Are you the type of person to ignore your friends when you’re seeing someone?”

Friends. It was difficult for him to even say the word. He knew that they weren’t friends anymore, and she definitely thought so, too. But what they’d had before and during their relationship had been irreplaceable. He would never find that in anyone else.

“No, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ve really been busy.” Then, thoughtfully, “Have you been seeing someone else?”

Harry’s heart nearly stopped at the question. He felt like this wasn’t the best time to mention that he was dating Danielle, but she’d asked and he couldn’t lie to her. His girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that. So he played it cool and smiled. “Yes.”

Her reaction wasn’t what he’d expected. She yelled, “What?!”

He jumped. His eyes widened as she flicked her gaze across the carriage to apologise to the others. To him, she lowered her voice, “You accused me of seeing someone, and now you’re seeing someone?”

“I wasn’t the one ignoring you,” he said. From the way she squinted her eyes in irritation, he could feel how much she hated him. He hated himself, too.

Y/N leaned back into her seat with her arms crossed, looking calmer now. “Who’s the unfortunate soul?”

“Danielle,” he said.

She blinked hard. “Danielle?! Danielle Knight?”

Harry nodded.

Her calmness vanished. “Danielle Knight from your class?”

“Well, Danielle Knight isn’t really a popular name, is it?”

She shot him a glare. “You literally said she wasn’t your type! You must be joking.”

“Nope,” Harry chuckled. “I’m really seeing Danielle. We’ve gone on two dates already. I’d love to tell you the full story some other time, since I have to get off at the next stop.”

“The next stop is Bond Street. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.”

Y/N said nothing, but he could feel her watching his every move as he fixed his coat and got up, grabbing the bar above his head as the train slowed down. “If you want the full story,” he said, “you must reply to the meme I sent.” Then, he gave her a smile and followed two other passengers towards the exit.

He fought the urge to look back as he imagined her sitting there on her own. He clenched his cold hand and shoved it into his pocket, using the other hand to text his girlfriend that he was at the station. He decided not to mention meeting Y/N.

The train started moving again as Harry headed for the way out. But something told him to stop. He looked back over his shoulder. Through the window, she was still looking at him. There was a longingness in that look that almost made him think she’d wanted to get off the train with him. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before the train went into the tube.

“Why did you hurt me?”

Y/N hadn’t expected this reaction. It wasn’t even a reaction; he just stared at her like she was out of her mind. Was he shocked?

But shouldn’t he have seen this coming? They had never had this conversation, so it had to happen at some point.

Maybe he hadn’t expected for it to be now.

“Sorry?” he asked with a nervous smile.

Y/N blew out her cheeks and sat up straight. Their shoulders brushed, but she immediately pulled back.

“Why did you hurt me?” she repeated.

Harry’s eyebrows drew together as he stared down at their feet. “Did I step on your foot or—Ouch!”

He backed off, rubbing the arm she’d just hit.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You broke up with me in a cemetery. A fucking cemetery!”

Thanks to him, Y/N would never lose two lies, one truth. The last conversation they’d had as a couple had been in a cemetery. They used to go there and drink, and that day, she had been chugging a bottle of cider when he’d put his down and said, “Let’s break up.”

She had stared at him with wide eyes, thinking it’d been a joke. Well, hoping it had been a joke. Deep down, she had seen it coming.

“That was literally your favourite spot,” he said. “I thought it’d make you feel better.”

Her jaw fell at his insensible response. “Well, now my favourite spot is no longer favourite because of you, jerk face!”

Harry contemplated for a second, his lips puckered up. Then, he held up a finger. “But that day you laughed in my face and said you were waiting for me to say that.”

“Well, I lied,” Y/N said, relieved that she didn’t have to keep a secret anymore. She crossed her arms, sank back into the seat, and averted her eyes to avoid his stare. “If I’d been okay with that I wouldn’t have called you two nights later from the same cemetery.”

Harry’s chuckle pulled her head up. She shot him a glare. “Are you laughing at my vulnerability?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse—“

“Because this is literally the first time you’ve ever been vulnerable to me.”

“Oh, is that why you broke up with me?” she laughed dryly. “Because I’m too emotionally mature?”

“Mature would be the last word I’d use to describe you.”

Y/N gasped and shoved his shoulder. It didn’t move him, not even an inch.

“See?” he scoffed. “You’re childish. And you’re mean as well.”

She turned away, arms crossed. “Well, sorry, I can’t be Danielle Knight.”

“I knew it,” Harry muttered.

Y/N whipped her head back to him. “What?”

“I knew you didn’t like Danielle.”

“She didn’t like me, either.”

“That’s not true,” Harry said.

“Well, you’re dumb and blind if you think so,” Y/N mused. “My friends saw that, too.”

A corner of Harry’s mouth arched in slight contempt. “Joshua and Marissa weren’t really your friends, Y/N. They’re awful and toxic people.”

So are you, Y/N wanted to say, but she didn’t. “I’ve got at least five healthy friends,” was what she said instead. “Yeah, some people think I'm funny, baby. Don’t look so surprised.”

Harry chuckled, biting his lip and shaking his head.

Angry, Y/N went on, “We think that your girlfriend is a bore. But we're grown up and mature, so we’re nice to her in public.”

“Thanks for the honesty.”

“I don’t want your thanks. I want a proper apology.”

“I’m not gonna apologise after you said all those mean things about me and my girlfriend.”

“Then maybe you should apologise for always putting me secondary when we were in a relationship. It was always just you and your guitars and your mates. And now you care about your new girlfriend, which makes me feel like shit.”

Harry said nothing. He didn’t even try to deny it because he knew it was all true, yet all he did was sit and stare back at her as if her mouth was moving but he could hear nothing. He used to always do that during arguments, too.

“We’re not friends,” she said, finally getting it off her chest. “We’re always somewhere in between. ‘Cause you're awful, and I miss you, and I killed you in my dream last night. But even then you didn't care. It’s a low when even in my dreams, you still don't want me there.”

Harry was quiet. Like he’d always been in their relationship. It used to piss Y/N off because she always had to try to read his mind. He told her she was closed off, but he was never open either. He’d say he loved her, but he’d looked happier with his bandmates than he’d ever been with her. She didn’t know if she still had feelings for him or if she just wanted closure. But, even now, she felt all alone.

“I know you’ve moved on,” she said quietly. “And I guess…I mean I’ve tried. I’ve moved a little too. But I still wish things were different.”

Don’t you?

She looked up at him. He said nothing, thinned his lips and gazed out of the window. At this point, she wasn’t expecting a response anymore. An announcement broke the silence as their trained arrived at Kingston station. When they were outside, they stood in the cold and stared at each other. Harry was always so good at hiding his thoughts. He gave nothing away in that stone-cold expression. Y/N guessed he was waiting for a goodbye hug or anything coming from her that would mean: ‘the conversation we’d just had on the train had never happened,’ so they could carry on with their separate lives.

But she said nothing and walked towards the crossroads. She thought he’d follow, but he didn’t.

“How was the trip?” Danielle asked when Harry walked in. She was sitting on her bed, looking drowsy in the purple hue from the LED lights on her ceiling. The bedroom, with only her bed, wardrobe, desk and chair, looked even smaller with all the decorations on the walls: fake vines, pictures of her friends and family, vintage movie posters. Her built-in heater was right beside her bed, so it was always too hot at night while the rest of the room was cold. He had told her to come to his place, but she’d refused because, “Your bed isn’t as comfy as mine!”

Harry shut the door behind him and shrugged off his jacket.

“It was alright,” he said, emptying his pockets on the nightstand. “Did you get my text about Y/N’s wallet?”

“Yeah. Here.”

Danielle picked it up from the other nightstand and tossed it at him. Harry put it down with the rest of his things so he would remember to take it with him in the morning. His muscles were sore from all the dancing and walking tonight, but his mind was more restless than ever. He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling Danielle scooting over and putting her arms around him from behind. She started kissing his neck and humming into his ear. He grabbed her hand that was reaching for his belt.

Surprised, she paused. Her brown eyes locked with his green.

He faked a smile. “I’m not in the mood, love.”

“Why not?” She giggled. “You’re never not in the mood for me.”

“I’m tired. I’m so sorry.”

His girlfriend held his gaze with a faltered smile as though she was hoping he was only kidding. He parted his lips to say something then didn’t. He didn’t know what to tell her.

“It’s because of Y/N, isn’t it?”

“Danielle,” Harry breathed into his palms.

Danielle got up to stand in front of him, arms crossed. She eyed him up and down and shook her head, her eyebrows knitted. “I knew it when you told me to lie to her.”

“Danielle, come on—”

“Why did you make me tell her that I wanted to have her at the party?”

“Just—”

“That was weird as hell!” Danielle exclaimed, hands in the air and then in her hair. “You—” She sucked in a breath and let it out. Her voice grew calmer. “Am I just a rebound, Harry?”

“No! That’s just ridiculous!”

“Is it? Because you’re the only one who’s still friends with your ex. That’s fucking weird, Harry.”

“Y/N and I have been friends long before we started dating.”

“But you dated her. That changed everything, didn’t it? Now I’m your girlfriend, and I should be your best friend. Why do you need her?”

“Alright, alright. I won’t talk to her again.”

Both of them froze at what he’d just said. In the heat of the moment, Harry wasn’t thinking straight.

“Really?” Danielle asked quietly.

Harry thought for a second, then nodded. “Yes.” He spread his arms. “Come here.”

Danielle lay down on the bed as Harry spooned her. They cuddled in silence for a little while until she fell asleep in his arms. He listened to her breathing, then the sound of the heater. The room was too hot. He wanted to flip over to lie on his own, but he knew she would make a big deal out of it, so he kicked off the duvet. Danielle didn’t move. Thank God.

Harry shut his eyes, trying to fall asleep. The room was now almost silent, but his mind wasn’t.

“I still wish things were different,” she’d said.

He’d been thinking about that on his Uber ride back to central. He’d bought a beer from Tesco by the station, just an excuse to stay there in case she’d come back. But why would she come back? Why had he let her go in the first place? He could’ve given her the apology she’d wanted on the train. That had been all she’d asked of him. Then outside the station, he’d wanted to say “I’m sorry for everything” and give her a hug.

It’d be better if she hated him. He wanted her to hate him so much she wouldn’t want to be around him. That was mainly why he had chosen silence. But there was also something else. He knew his apology would cancel out everything that had been wrong with their relationship. Hatred was an extreme emotion. Same as love, when you hated someone, they’d stay on your mind. But if she forgave and forgot, she would move on. He wanted her to be happy, but he was selfish. He feared she wouldn’t move on the same way he had. By finding someone else and treating that person better just to feel less guilty about what the mistakes he’d made in the past. Danielle was the fresh start he couldn’t have with Y/N.

But when no one was watching, when he was alone at a station or on the tube, he’d think of her. He would do double-takes on strangers that looked like her. He’d be on a night out with Danielle and having flashbacks of those late nights in the old arcade, drinking cheap wine and dancing to Elvis. The song was now playing in his head as he tried to fall asleep.

You were always on my mind.

He knew he had no right to even think about her let alone miss her. All he’d done had been kiss and fly. He’d never been fully committed. She’d given her all and he’d given it up. He’d been scared, so when it was over, it was easy to just tell himself that they’d messed it up. He’d told himself that he’d do better with Danielle. But he felt like he’d ruin this relationship as well, because his whole past relationship couldn’t stop playing around in his head. He could not escape it.

In his mind, nothing had changed. They still shared earphones on the midnight train. She still held his cold hand as they sat on the on the platform, talking shit and watching people. They still got drunk in graveyards, woke up hungover, and had a lazy breakfast on his sofa bed. He was hers and she was still his.

“Why are you awake?”

Danielle’s voice pulled him out of his head. He scooted back as she turned over, now facing him.

Her eyes flickered as she smiled. She was one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen. He didn’t deserve her. And he hated himself for the fact that he’d been treating her like a Queen just so he could feel better about himself. What he couldn’t do for Y/N, he was doing it for Danielle.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured and gave Danielle a smile.

She put her hand in his hair and stroked his ear. “Can you try?”

Could he try? To fall asleep? To leave his past relationship behind? To forget about his ex and stop clinging onto their friendship, which was now pretty much dead?

“Yeah, I can,” he said, pulling Danielle closer so her head was against his chest. She made a comment about how she could feel his heart pounding. He ignored it and shut his eyes. He heard that Elvis song playing. Y/N’s name flooded his mind. Just one more night, he told himself. One more night, and he’d leave her in the past.

Maybe I didn't treat you Quite as good as I should have Maybe I didn't love you Quite as often as I could have

Little things I should have said and done I just never took the time

You were always on my mind…

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfics

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

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