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sweetberrysmooch · 4 years ago

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HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section

(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)

First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol

Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.

Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3

Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters

Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3

From best to worst:

#1: BadBoyHalo-

Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.

He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?

His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.

While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.

Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.

(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this-

The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it,

“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.

“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap.

“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George.

And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon.

“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)

#2: Philza

Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.

Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.

He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.

He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).

(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?”

When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail.

“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.”

It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)

#3: Quackity-

Quackity:

Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.

He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.

He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!

As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.

(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea.

You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens.

He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)

#4: Schlatt-

Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.

During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.

Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.

He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.

Overall, a good 4th place on the list.

(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head.

“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Schlatt.”

“Yes.”

The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently.

You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look.

“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)

#5: Dream-

Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.

He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.

Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).

To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.

Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.

One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)

(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy.

It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm.

His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)

#6: Technoblade-

Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.

6th place ^^; sorry king.

He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.

Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.

He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.

As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.

(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you.

You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races.

“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.”

Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him.

“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.”

He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)

#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.

Fundy-

Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.

He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.

Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)

Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.

7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.

(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly.

The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument.

He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday.

So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying.

You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was.

Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)

Sapnap-

Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.

Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.

He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.

Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.

(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking.

At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets.

“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper.

“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed.

“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.”

You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant.

Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)

#8. George-

Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.

He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.

To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…

(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it.

It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth.

Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)

#9: Wilbur

Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.

You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”

Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.

With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.

(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur.

“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively.

“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?”

“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!”

You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)

// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3

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amiedala · 4 years ago

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SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 30: Something More

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: “I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. “Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i am literally sitting here, emotional, crying as i write this. this has been the journey of a lifetime. i hope you all love this last chapter, and i hope it gives you that something more that Nova and Din found together. this last chapter, this grand finale, it's dedicated to every single one of you. thank you for being my readers, supporters, and friends. i hope this ending is everything you've dreamed. more notes, as always, are at the end. <3

A year ago, almost to the day, if you’ve counted correctly, you crash landed on Nevarro and the entirety of the rest of your life shifted somewhere huge and cosmic. You’ve always been a believer—in something bigger, something great, something more—but the second you met Din, and then the baby…well, everything seemed to just click into place. From Nevarro’s molten surface, to Bespin’s back alleys, to the excursions into the Mid Rim, to falling in love on Naator, to saying yes to the most romantic proposal on Yavin, to heartbreak and back on Dantooine, to all of the lives you’ve lost and the ones you’ve lived, all the way straight back into the Rebel Alliance, to losing your kid and your fiancé and then somehow coming out on top of it, ready to unite the remainder of the Jedi and the people of Mandalore and every single Rebel you know to pull off the greatest eradication of evil since the Death Star blew, you genuinely and sincerely can’t imagine your life being any other way.

And when you look over to the man you love, his helmet off, every contour of his gorgeous face in your full view, it makes your heart ache in your chest. Not in the way it did when you stumbled and drowned in the losses along the journey, not the way it did when he left you to protect you back on Dantooine, but in a way that feels just as huge and cosmic as the last year has been. You know war is on the horizon. You know there’s so many battles out there left to fight, and to hopefully win. You’ve come a hell of a way since being bounty hunter and babysitter, respectively. And all of it, every second, you think was worth it to get to this moment.

Because you’re not only about to be the wife of the king of Mandalore, you’re not only about to spearhead an entirely revitalized Rebel Alliance to take down the evil the Empire left over in the shadows, but you’re about to do all of it after meeting Luke Skywalker. And there’s something just as starry and explosive about your old life meeting your new one, just as bright, just as shiny.

Din’s quiet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety and everything in between, but you’re trying to stay calm. Mandalore is a serene orb on the horizon, and you watch it through the blinking mirrors on Kicker’s dashboard as you slowly coast through the stars. Everything out here, when you’re not in warp, feels like everything is drawing towards something more. Not an ending. Never an ending. But there’s something poignant in each dazzling ball of gaseous light, as if this journey is a transformation.

“Where’s your head?” Din asks, lowly, and the spark in his voice is enough to break you out of your reverie.

“On you,” you answer, immediately, flashing a wide smile towards him, “as always, my big brave Mand’alor boyfriend.”

Din winces, just a little, but you can see the small beginnings of a smile etched into his face, a reflection of yours. “That one doesn’t seem as catchy.”

You laugh, throwing your head back, your loose hair dancing down your spine. You feel the way his eyes roam over you—not just hungry, not just with desperation—but with ease. So much has changed, and yet this, right here, the two of you in the cockpit, heading into the stars, this is so familiar you could do it in your sleep.

“Give me time,” you answer, finally, grinning back over at him, “I’ll come up with something better.”

Din’s quiet, and you turn your attention back to the space around you. It’s quiet out here. Peaceful, even though so much of the galaxy is rife with stress and there’s evil lurking out there in the shadows you and the rest of the team have to yank back into the light. And you know this is just the beginning—that the last time the Empire won, it took almost twenty full years to defeat them, and even longer to put anything right—but knowing you’re moving forward, you’re secretly married with the leader of a planet, you have an entire squadron of people caught from all haphazard places in the galaxy, and that your family’s going to be reunited in a matter of days, feels like you’re coming home in a way you haven’t felt in years.

“Nova,” Din starts, and then falls back into his silence. You glance back at him. The muted interior of Kicker reflects back onto the beskar, makes it look like it’s camouflaged. If it were anyone else, if you didn’t know him as intently as you do, you’d be on edge with Din disappearing into the ship. But you can feel his steady heartbeat, you know he’s right behind you, and, more than anything, he’s yours. Nothing about him scares you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. “Do—do you really think we can pull this off?”

You sigh, flicking the switch so Kicker goes into autopilot, and then you slowly turn around him in your chair so you can face Din in yours. “Yes,” you say, gently, conviction seeping into your voice. “Yes, I think we can pull this off. You’re going to be the best leader Mandalore’s ever had, I’m going to work with the Alliance, we’re going to get our kid back, and we’re going to eradicate the First Order, whoever and wherever they are. We’re going to pull it all off, Din,” you continue, earnestly, leaning forward in your seat, holding his gorgeous gaze. “It’s not going to be easy. It’s not going to be quick. But we’re going to do it.”

Din holds your eyes. There’s something strange behind his own. “How are you so optimistic, even after everything?”

You blink, hand finding the Rebel insignia around your neck, fingers pressing down against the smoothness of the metal. You swallow. It holds heavier against your throat than your mother’s did, but something about the beskar carving makes it feel totally indestructible. A small beacon of fortification. Something to bring you out to sea and back to shore again. “Like I told Gideon,” you say, finally, “I have hope.”

He’s quiet. You are, too. Eventually, Din leans forward, hand linking with yours, meeting you right in the middle. “Don’t lose that.”

You shoot a small, guarded smile back at him. “I held onto it even when I thought you abandoned me back on Dantooine. I think I can keep this part of me alive forever, and I think it’s strong enough to keep it alive in you, too.”

Din stares at you. “I need you to know,” he starts, voice low and urgent, “that I’m so sorry. For leaving you. For not including you in my decisions. For—” he cuts himself off, inhaling sharply, “for breaking your trust. I messed up. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it. All I can promise you,” he continues, hand tightening its grip in yours, “is that I’m never going to do it again.”

You look at him. There’s still that burning pyre in your chest, that fear that he’s going to disappear and not come back, that some sort of fate will lightning strike between the two of you, but the anger that lived there for so long has completely dissipated. You love him. You take a shaky breath, holding up your left hand. The beskar encircling your ring finger glints in Kicker’s low light. “I believe you,” you say, finally, laying it all bare. You inhale, biting down on your lower lip. ��That’s what this is all about,” you continue, wriggling your fingers, “right? I know you,” you say, leaning closer, hair falling over your shoulder. His eyes track the movement of it, free, unencumbered. “I love you,” you continue, nodding slightly. “And I trust you. So I believe you.”

Din inhales. “Nova,” he starts, “do—do you ever think you’ll forgive me for leaving you back on Dantooine—”

And then he’s cut off, because Kicker starts screaming. It’s not the same warbled screech that haunted the comm back on Khubeaie, not that desperate kind of wailing. She’s warning you, you realize, as you let your hand drop out of Din’s and whirl back around to man the controls yourself. Din reacts almost completely in sync, but you saw the spark of ache in his eyes before he finished asking his question. Your stomach flips over.

Something’s failing. You know that. You’re not sure why, but the ship starts flickering and sinking, even when you’re supposedly moving on a full fuel tank, and even while you know you fixed all the major issues before you left Mandalore. Bo-Katan had even given the ship a very begrudging once-over, and you know her seal of approval is very hard to come by. Frustrated, you press all the right buttons, trying to calculate what exactly the issue is.

Your comm blinks. “Come in,” a voice rings, and for a second, everything floods into fight-or-flight. You’re running completely on adrenaline, still high from saying your wedding vows the night before, and you haven’t had more than one consecutive night of good sleep in months. Quickly, you flash your eyes on Din. “Come in,” the voice on the other end of the line says again, and it’s urgent enough for you to raise your wrist to your mouth, make you speak.

“Who am I speaking to—”

“Your ship’s haunted.”

You stare into the comm, back at Din, and then into your comm again, as if any of this will somehow crystallize the absolute nonsense that’s ringing in your ears. “What?” you say, still thinking you’re losing it, and then, before you can do anything else, you hear blaring on the other line.

“Not haunted,” another voice says, tiredly, and it’s not until Slave I pops out of warp that you realize you’re talking to Boba and Fennec. “Ships don’t get haunted,” she continues, “you just didn’t fix your disabled comm system when we first scrambled your signal. That’s the issue.”

You squint. You can’t see her, of course, everything about the ship is covered in tinted windows, but you want Fennec Shand to feel the full force of your disapproval and confusion. “You scrambled my signal? But that was days before—”

“Had to get a hold of you somehow,” the other voice says, and you exhale, shaking your head. “That was her doing. Not mine. The ship’s comm system is, for lack of a better term, haunted. Land on this planet.”

“We have to go to Hoth,” you protest, halfheartedly. “That was the plan.”

You can hear the wry smile in Boba Fett’s voice. “Oh, they won’t like me on Hoth, Rebel.”

You raise your eyebrow over at Din. By the way his helmet’s cocked, you know he’s laughing under there. “Too bad,” you shoot back, flipping switches on the dashboard as Din’s plugging in the coordinates to the ice giant nearby, “they’re gonna have to deal with it, because you’re with me.”

With a relatively boring flight and endless grumbling from Boba Fett, the two of your ships touch down on Hoth. It makes your stomach flip over. Everything in you is still buzzing—all that emotional resonance, all that fluttery anxiety of standing on the precipice of something more—and you can barely hear Din as he slips his helmet back on and gestures you to slide down the ladder after him. You feel alive. Dazzlingly, excitedly so.

Everyone complains about the cold. It assaults all of you the second the gangplanks are lowered, but there’s something so warm inside of you that you barely feel the bite of the chill. You flash a big smile at Wedge and the various members of the New Rogue Squadron as they greet you at the thermalock door, the warm breeze that greets you the second you step into the light downright summery compared to the ice.

“Did you talk to Luke?” Wedge asks, his voice low and complicated, as he leads your ragtag group to the control room. You don’t know why he’s whispering, but you follow suit.

“All I got from his last hologram,” you sigh, rubbing your icy fingers together, “is that he wants to see me in person.”

Wedge raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

You glance back over at him, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “Yeah. Was that not what he told you?”

Wedge chews on his bottom lip. “He didn’t really say much of anything,” he admits as you round the last corner, “just that he needed to speak with you, as soon as possible, and that it was important. I’m not used to him being so secretive.”

You shoot him a small smile. “Is that unlike him?”

Wedge’s expression is wry, but his eyes sparkle. “The Luke Skywalker I know could talk to an empty moon for years before he realized there’s no one talking back.”

A grin breaks across your face. As Wedge walks around to his usual command spot on the other side of the holotable, you bite back your smile and stand at yours, feeling a very strange sense of pride as your unlikely team lines up behind you. Din is fully armored, but the set of his shoulders is much more relaxed than the last time he was there. Boba, especially with his newly refurbished armor, sticks out like a sore thumb. The generals across from you are defensive, not taking their eyes off of him for a second. Fennec doesn’t look like she belongs, either, but you have a very strong feeling that Fennec Shand doesn’t belong to anything except the chaos she craves. Still, there’s a determined set to her face that shows you she’s on your side. Mixed in with the rest of the semicircle are Cara and Karga, who don’t exactly blend in, but wear the same proverbial colors of the rest of the people at the table.

“New Rogue Squadron,” Wedge starts, his eyes dancing all over everyone stationed at the holotable, “meet our newcomers.”

“We’ve met,” one general says, disapprovingly, looking Boba Fett up and down.

Wedge lets Boba step forward menacingly for exactly two seconds before he steps forward, just an inch, and retakes command. “Refamiliarize yourself, then. We’re all on the same side here. We are,” he cuts himself off, lowering his voice, looking straight at you, “all on the same side here, right?”

You nod. “Who here wants the Empire eradicated for good?” Everyone’s hands go up. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Fennec, the only one in the room that doesn’t have her hand in the air. “Fennec?”

She looks back at you, her eyes alive, a reflecting pool. “I like to be on the winning team.”

“Well,” you level, “here, you certainly are.”

She cracks a grin, and then her hand extends in a perfect line above her head. “I have a feeling,” she says, tongue snaking out and wetting her bottom lip, “that you don’t break promises often.”

“She doesn’t,” Din chimes in from behind you. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, and you look back at Wedge, turning back over command.

“Alright then,” Wedge says, leaning forward, bracing each hand on the glimmering edge of the table, “let’s get started.”

The two of you talk first. You recount a very abridged version of the events, starting from when you and Din left Hoth last, all the way up to everything that happened on Mandalore. You glaze over the more unsavory bits back on Cantonica, only wincing slightly when you smooth over the fight in the back alley, the way that you were close to death. You can still smell that creep’s breath if you focus too hard on the memory, so you think instead of the way Din plunged the Darksaber into his chest. You bridge the gap by introducing Cara and Karga to the rest of the group huddled around the table, talking about your reunion on Nevarro, and how they were tracking down ex-convicts and members in the Guild, respectively, to uncover any new information on the Order. You finish, warily, with Gideon’s final statements, how he promised you the Order was going to come and take anyone with power they could manipulate for their own, how his eyes glinted when he told you that all Jedi would either be eradicated or turned into weapons. Finally, you close with his death, Bo-Katan’s measured rage, the battle over the Darksaber that chose Din again and made both of you basically royalty. Wedge’s face shifts as you tell him the last bit, your eyes very focused on his and not anyone else’s. You know that being associated with the current Mand’alor puts even more of a target on your back than it did when you were simply an exiled Rebel and bounty hunter, but you keep your chin up. You don’t care about the royalty aspect of it, don’t love the idea of being in charge of other people, especially after fighting for so long to be your own autonomous being. But you like the idea that Din is the rightful leader, and there’s not a chance in hell anyone—especially not the First Order—is going to take that from him.

You turn it over to Wedge, who’s still looking strangely at you. It’s not judgment. It’s not questioning. It takes about halfway through his opening remarks for you to classify it as pride. You step back as he talks, hiding a small smile.

“We have our work cut out for us,” he sighs, and you tune back in. “None of this is going to be easy. I’m going to ask you all one last time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a flurry of orange against the stark, cool interior of the base, “if you want out, this is where you leave. No hard feelings. But it needs to be now.”

No one moves an inch. Not a single general. Not Cara or Karga. Not Boba or Fennec, who both seem to be much more involved with this idea than they showed at first glance. Behind you, Din steps just an inch closer, and you feel your body filling up with warmth in his close proximity.

“That’s what I thought,” Wedge says, that smile of pride etched into his face again. “Here’s what we’ve found out. There isn’t a lot of information on anything related to the empire left, save for libraries and research archives, and of course, the lived experiences of everyone in this room,” He pauses, bringing up an image on the holotable. You see the flickering images of both Death Stars, and you hide a small shiver at how impending and filled with doom they look, even on this imitation of a screen. “We knocked both of these out,” Wedge continues, pointing at the rotating stars. “We made extra care to do it the second time,” he says, gesturing at the bigger and more reinforced of the two, “and then we tried to eradicate every single building plan the Empire had stashed away. I can’t promise that schematics didn’t survive, because I think there were parts of their regime that were a lot smarter than others. But we’ve made it our major effort over the last few years to put in as many annoying and massive roadblocks as we possibly can so that nothing can rise from the ashes. And yet,” he sighs, bringing up an image of Gideon on the screen, “this Order survived.”

“What makes you think they didn’t start after the Empire was eradicated?” Din asks, which causes more of the generals to mutter to one another.

“Because—” Wedge starts.

“I’ve seen this before,” you interrupt, gently. “Almost everyone associated with the Alliance did, too. I wasn’t alive when Darth Vader rose to power, but it didn’t just happen out of nowhere. It was calculated. It was planned. There was a large league of evil hiding under the surface, they were just good at hiding it. We wouldn’t have any idea that the Order exists now, except everyone we’ve fought has huge egos and can’t stop shouting it from the rooftops.” You glance back at Wedge. “I’m sorry. I cut you off.”

“You hit the nail on the head,” Wedge says, approvingly, giving you a quick nod. “With Gideon dead, it’s easy to think that most of the evil that’s terrorized the Outer Rim is gone, or—well, at least dormant. But that’s not the truth. They’re strategic in their darkness because they won’t survive without it.”

“Do we know exactly who we’re dealing with?” Cara asks, stepping forward. You watch as her strong, full figure fills the frame of the holotable. Everyone’s eyes are on her. “With Gideon dead, we don’t have much to go on.”

“I know,” you agree tiredly, dragging a hand over your face. “That—that was not the plan. But in that moment, it was what had to be done,” you amend, chancing a look back at Din. “No. There’s no new figurehead that we know of. From my experience—our experience—though, they wanted Grogu and me for a reason. It wasn’t to use our Force sensitivity as a weapon, like we had originally thought. They experimented on the baby when they took him,” you say, voice shaking a little, “and extracted something from his blood. Midichlorians. I don’t know, exactly, what they are or how they work. I’m a little new to the Jedi thing. But I know they have something to do with how we harness our energy, whatever it is that makes the Force up. Back on Cantonica, the people who tried to grab us insinuated using us—or our power—as weapons wasn’t their current mission, but it would be. And then when we spoke to Gideon back on Mandalore, he said the same thing. But his motivation may not have been the same.” You swallow. “He was scared,” you say, slowly. “Of them. The First Order. He admitted it. He was never in charge. He was a pawn, the same way they want to make us.” You stare at his rotating image on the table, tinted blue. You hate it. Even in this mugshot, he looks smug. It’s an expression that you know won’t go away for a long time after his death. “Whatever’s out there,” you finish, quiet, “it’s big, and it’s coming. We need to be ready. Because when it does, we’re going to have to give them everything we’ve got.”

“Well said,” Wedge says, looking around the room. “Anyone else got an update?”

A few of the other members of the Alliance step forward, confirming and denying a flurry of half-baked theories. Cara fills the rest of you in on what she’s learned from the people that are out of the prison system, which is really a whole lot of nothing. Most of the more dangerous criminals with the heinous crimes are still in prison, and those who have gotten out want to life a quiet, peaceful life. She talks about the refinery explosion back on Morak, the way she knows a few spots of Empire sympathizers, but other than surface-level information, she hasn’t gotten deep into any of her contacts. Karga and the Guild is the same. You can feel the way Din’s eyes are boring into him, the measured way he��s scrutinizing his face. Karga’s slippery, but he’s never posed a real threat, and there’s a kindness to him you wouldn’t expect in a bounty hunter.

Then again, you just secretly married one of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy, and under all that beskar, there’s nothing but a heart of gold.

You smile, hiding the grin under guise of your hand stroking your lip. As if he can read your mind, Din steps so that the plate of beskar on his thigh bumps up against the back of yours. Even through your pants, you can feel how cold it is, how unyielding. How different it is than the man who wears it. The rest of the Alliance turn in small bits and pieces of information. Wedge uses the holotable to input everything, to keep as both map and record. You stare as it projects more and more of blue data. If you unfocus your eyes, it looks like stars.

Eventually, the conversation dies down. “One more time,” Wedge calls out, “do we have anything else to update, or shall we divide and conquer before our next rendezvous?”

Again, no one speaks. The slowly cartographed map projecting up from the table stands as proof that even without a ton of information, you’re starting a long and valiant fight. You feel fortified on that alone. Wedge dismisses everyone, and then you hear a modulated voice behind you.

“Actually,” Din says, his voice rough through the modulator, “I have something.”

Wedge raises his eyebrow, nodding to encourage Din to continue.

“I…” he starts tiredly, sighing, “am the ruler of Mandalore now. I didn’t want it, nor did I ever ask for it, but it’s a responsibility I have to deal with. But I made a promise to Nova,” he continues, knocking his knee slightly against yours. To the outside eye, it doesn’t look like he’s moved at all, but you know it happened. “And I’m going to follow her. I’m in this fight as much as the rest of you are, now, and that’s not changing. So, I would like to move the Rebel base to Mandalore,” Din finishes, finally, to a mixed crowd.

“Mandalore,” the older general says, gruffly, “is not ours to claim. They don’t take kindly to strangers of our kind.”

“I know that’s the history,” Din answers evenly, “but it’s going to be different now. This…this First Order, they don’t seem to only be after Rebels. If we’re not careful and strategic about the way we fight back, they might slip through the cracks. I think cracking down on another fascist regime is something that the Rebels and the people of Mandalore could agree on.”

“I beg to differ,” Wedge says, but his voice is light. “Listen, we’ve been base-hopping since before the first Death Star was blown to bits. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a ton of us left. I don’t know if relocation is the smartest idea, not right now.”

You can feel Din’s anger underneath the suit. It’s not directed at Wedge, but the complication of accidentally becoming the ruler of an entire planet isn’t easily dissolved.

“What if we don’t move the base?” you step in. “What if we kept the order of operations on Hoth, but we have a small squadron of people who work out of Mandalore so we keep in touch? The commute is short,” you continue, bringing up the distance between the two planets on the table, “and scattering our protection across the Outer Rim is probably smart, anyway.” You look from Din to Wedge. Everyone else is quiet. “None of this is ideal,” you press on, slightly worried about the tension floating up around everyone in the room, “but I think we’ve more than proven that we’re on the same team, and that we’re going to fight like hell. If the First Order emerges from more than just these shadows,” you continue, chancing a glance around the rest of the room, “then we revaluate where the base is. But right now, I think we should focus on communication instead of relocation.”

“Fine by me,” Wedge answers, easily, and you feel the rest of the anxiety in the room lessen. “Does that work for you?”

Din turns to you. You nod, just once, pleading through your eyes alone. Finally, he gives a swift nod, agreeing without saying a word of contempt or assurance. You smile over at Wedge, nodding again.

“Then the rest of you are dismissed,” Wedge says, with a note of finality. Murmurs fill the room as people start flowing outside of the doors. He looks over at Boba, who, like Cara, Fennec, and Karga, haven’t moved an inch. “You’re really in this?” There’s something complicated in his voice. You can’t quite place it. “You’re not going to try to sabotage us? Or take any of us out?”

Boba steps forward. If you weren’t well-trained in Mandalorian body language, you’d take his commanding presence as a threat. Wedge bends his knees a little, lifting his chin. “I’m not a bounty hunter anymore,” he answers, voice low and smooth. “I’m just a simple man, trying to make his own way in this galaxy.”

You can tell from Wedge’s expression that he doesn’t trust a single word out of Boba Fett’s mouth. “If you won’t cause any harm to us,” he continues, “can you promise me that you’d say the same for Luke Skywalker?”

Boba crosses his arms. Wedge stands taller. “I want to knock Skywalker into that Sarlacc pit and come out in one piece,” he says, and even though his voice is even, it’s not filled with the malice it was when you first met him on Khubeaie. “I don’t care if he lives or dies. I just assume that he’s integral to this whole…eradication of the First Order. So until they’re dead and gone, I won’t touch a pretty blonde hair on his head. Afterward?” He pauses, as if to seriously ponder it. “I can’t promise you what I’ll do next.”

Wedge regards him. Because you’ve known him practically your whole life, you can see his tell of fear. It lives on, like a little flame beyond the blackness in his eyes. Finally, he nods. “That’s fair.”

Boba nods, relaxes his stance. He turns to you. “We’ll keep searching,” he promises, and you flash him a quick smile. Fennec nods, confirming his words. “We do still have unfinished business on Tatooine. But send us a hologram when you’re about to be coronated,” he continues, turning to Din. You can hear the wry humor hidden in his voice, “I want to see the look on the Kryze girl’s face when you’re officially Mand’alor.”

You want to placate Din by telling Boba that they’ve firmly agreed to a truce, but Din doesn’t rush to explain any of this to the other Mandalorian. “You got it,” he says, easily, and then the two of them are gone, heading back to where Slave I is parked. You look over at Cara, whose arms are still exposed in this icy room. She’s not even shivering. You think maybe she’s the only person in the galaxy who could literally intimidate cold and dissuade it from touching her. Karga, on the other hand, is practically turning blue. He’s swaddled up in furs and a very fancy jacket, and yet, you can hear his teeth chattering. “Back to Nevarro for us,” he says, his voice a lot more strained than usual. “We’ll keep looking, too. I know this isn’t going to be easy,” he continues, turning his gaze to you, “but we don’t give up.”

“Ever,” Cara enunciates, knocking her shoulder into Din’s, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Really. You’re in good hands,” she finishes, dropping her voice an octave, glancing up at Din.

“Oh,” you say, grinning brazenly, “I know.”

She flashes you another smile before the two of them depart the briefing room, too, and you’re left with Din and Wedge. You look back at your old friend, and you still see that vaguely disguised concern in his eyes. For a few moments, no one speaks. You exhale through your mouth and watch as the cold lights it up into frozen air.

“What did Luke say?” Wedge asks again. His voice is urgent. “When he sent you that second hologram?”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “He just—he told me that he needed to speak with me, and that when I saw you next, you’d give me the coordinates of where to meet him. That’s it.” Wedge inhales, his breath slightly shaky. “Wedge, what—?”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Wedge finally says. “There’s this…sadness to him, now, this quiet. When I first met Luke, he talked my ear off for three days before I was able to get a word in edgewise. He whined. He was oppositional. More than anything, he had the biggest heart of almost anyone else I’ve ever known.” His eyes meet yours. “You give him a run for his money, though, rebel girl. We—the last time I was…with him,” he continues, guarded. You have a feeling that he’s intentionally censoring himself, but you don’t push it. You know the way his face lights up whenever Luke is mentioned. And you haven’t met him yet, but you’d be more than willing to bet that Luke feels the same away about Wedge. “The last time we were together,” Wedge continues, “he…he told me that he was going to try and rebuild the Jedi Order, that he wanted to locate all of the sacred texts and find anyone else out there. To create a sense of community. Then he basically disappeared. I had to get to him through Leia, which wasn’t an easy feat, either, and she finally told me he was off on a planet none of us had never heard of before.” Wedge sighs. Something in you sparked when he mentioned Leia, and you’re trying your very hardest to keep your cool, because if there’s anyone in the Alliance you hold in higher regard than Luke Skywalker, it’s his twin sister. “When he contacted me again, he just seemed…heavy. Haunted,” Wedge amends, “and urgent. Like he’s running out of time.”

You stare at Wedge until his eyes find yours again. “I’ll help him,” you say, gently, stepping forward. “I don’t know what he wants from me. I only know him from stories. But whatever it is, I’m here to help. Okay?”

Wedge sighs. “Okay.” He looks back between you and Din, and then the small, easy smile he regularly sports flits across his face. “He’s on Ahch-To. In the Unknown Regions. He wants you to meet him there, and he wants the two of you to come alone.”

“That,” Din finally says, breaking his silence, “will not be a problem.”

Wedge smiles up at him, too. “I like you,” he says, gently slapping Din’s forearm. “Stay alive and don’t let this one go, Mandalorian.”

“Trust me,” Din assures him, as Wedge pulls the data drive from the holotable so that the two of you can keep a copy of everything in your journey to Luke and back to Mandalore, “those are my two top priorities.”

Hoth is cold. Space is colder. Usually, by the time you’re out in the stars, it’s impossible to feel empty and chilled, but you’re hurtling through warp to the Unknown Regions, and there’s something so dark and desolate about this corner of the galaxy. It’s ancient, from what you can tell, and largely abandoned. Something here is bringing you an odd sense of quiet, but mostly, you feel that haunted, desperate feeling associated with the lurking, looming threat of the First Order, and you’re trying your best to ignore it.

Din rises up out of his seat and stands beside you. He dangles both of his hands into your line of sight, and you gently undo his gloves, letting them drop to the floor. His fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt and start pressing on where the ache has blossomed and hardened. “You carry all of your stress here,” he murmurs, digging his thumbs into the knots that line your shoulders.

“Hard to feel stressed,” you hum happily, “when you’re doing this.”

He tips your head back. You stare upside down into the visor, and then his hands disappear from your shoulders to pull the helmet off. You hide your small sigh under the noise of the hiss that his mask makes, and when you’re face to face, something kickstarts like a drum in your chest.

You’ll never get tired of seeing Din’s face. Not now, not ever. It’s complicated and etched with so much worry, but when he looks at you, everything has quieted. It’s just the two of you, the crush of space, and the promise of being a real family on the horizon. It makes everything in you swell and burst like a eager tide against the shoreline. “I love you,” you whisper, and he strokes his thumb over your cheek.

He smiles. It’s such a rare thing, that genuine smile. It shines on long after it’s left his face. “Ni kar’tayl su,” he agrees, and then, so softly you may have imagined it, “Novalise.”

When he comes in for a kiss, he spins your chair around so fast that you don’t even have enough air in your legs. He kneels down so that his face is level with yours, knocking his forehead gently against his. You wrap both of your arms up and around his neck, staring into his deep, brown, expressive eyes as he holds both of your cheeks with the palms of his large hands, breathing in his scent of cleanness and metal and smoke and, still, cinnamon.

“Do you remember,” he starts, his voice thick, “when we…we first met, and I asked you how old you were?”

You nod, quietly, feeling his hair brush up against yours. “Yeah,” you say, softly. You can feel your heart beating quickly in the left side of your chest.

“That,” Din sighs, “was a year ago today.”

You look up at him, startled. “You counted?”

He nods, still with his forehead against yours. “You’re not twenty-five anymore,” he says, quietly, “and I didn’t get you a birthday gift.”

You smile, pulling away, only slightly, so you can see his eyes. “We have been a little busy,” you say, grinning. “I think I can forgive you on that one.”

He meets your gaze, low and intense. “Can you?” Din asks, and as you’re registering the weight of the words of forgiveness, he’s taking off your pants. There’s something desperate and hungry in his eyes as he works them off of you, dragging his bare hands up and over your thighs. You gasp with the lightness of his touch, and when his mouth moves up in between your legs, you think his tongue can work miracles. Huge ones. Devastating ones. You’re pretty sure Din’s mouth alone could bring about galaxy-wide peace, except you don’t want it anywhere except for buried in your pussy.

You let out a strangled moan, low and wet, and right as his tongue starts furiously circling your clit, Kicker starts fucking hollering.

You could kill her. You love her, the home you’ve made in her, how she’s kept you safe, but right now, if ships could be strangled, you would absolutely throttle her. Sighing, you wrench your pants back up over your hips.

“I’m not done,” Din warns, and the image of him wiping the slick off of his lips replays in the back of your mind as you try to yank your attention back to your screeching ship.

“What’s wrong?” you mutter, checking through the laundry list of flips and switches and buttons, trying to figure out why Kicker’s on high alert. It takes a second, but then you see it—black TIE fighters, wicked and sharp, arachnid and blending into the crush of space. “Shit,” you murmur under your breath, strapping yourself back in. Before you can warn Din to do the same, lightning-quick, he bolts his safety belt. You crack your neck back and forth, shaking your fingers free of the cold cabin interior and any leftover jitters you’re still feeling from Din’s mouth on you.

“Where did they come from?” Din asks, and you recognize that his voice is modulated, his helmet back on in a flash. “We’re in the middle of nowhere—”

“Warp,” you call back, as the first one fires. It’s not their stereotypical light blast—something about it is just as dark and insidious as their ships are. You escape it, but narrowly, and you yank Kicker up to evade the shot. “Every time. Every single time. How the hell,” you call back at him, firing off a few rounds of your own, “do they find us this easily?”

“Well,” Din answers, over the noise, “your ship isn’t exactly the most inconspicuous, even with the modifications—”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, barrel rolling over on yourself, evading another blast. It careens into some debris of a nearby asteroid field, and you wince as it collides. “Do you think it’s because they know that Gideon’s dead?” The word feels heavy in your mouth. You gulp, setting everything to stun, dropping some of your height so that you can avoid the new shots they’re volleying at you.

“How could they?” Din yells back, and then a blast hits Kicker. You scream with the impact, loud and uncontrolled, as it drains your shields. You can’t tell how bad the damage is, but nothing is burning or smoking, even though Kicker’s screeching at you again. You’re almost positive she’s a sentient being, at this point, because she’s always so humanoid in her reactions. You grunt, hauling the ship as far right as you can get, blasting one of the three fighters with your own artillery. “I’m going to arm the cannon,” Din says, and you don’t have time to tell him that the defense system at the back of Kicker is a mess of wires and buttons, and that you’re not even sure if the rear artillery works, before he’s gone in a flash.

It turns out, the rear artillery does work. It’s no masterclass in shooting, but Din knows his way around his weapons, even ones he’s never used before. You’re exhausted, but you yank Kicker up and over, avoiding another blast. You stare at the fighters as they whiz around you. There’s a darkness to them that you don’t entirely understand, but when they start shooting again, you’ve had enough. You hate killing. You still carry the tally marks of the lives you’ve ended deep inside your chest. You know all of them by heart. But you’re willing to let these people take a few punches with Kicker’s best cannons, because you’ve had enough of them trying to take everything you love away from you for what feels like the millionth time.

“Up!” Din yells from the back of the ship, and you take every single atom of strength you have last in your body to wrench all of the thrusters upward, careening Kicker dizzily into the mess of the stars above. The fighters follow you, lightning quick. Din shoots, hard and heavy, with what feels like all the ammo left on the ship, but then you’re out and the one right on your tail shoots another blast. Everything in Kicker shakes, screams, and then slowly starts to power down. You can feel her sliding into sleep.

“Not like this,” you mutter, furious, flipping every switch you can think of, trying to make it the right way up so you can recalibrate your defense, if you have any left, or at least punch in new coordinates so you won’t die out here, lost in the crush of space. That same, awful feeling that filled you when you crash landed on Dagobah is running through you again. The last thing you think before you start moving is how horrible and lonely your parents’ deaths must have been when they were spinning to their terrible, fiery end.

The fighter closest to you fires again. You unbuckle. If you’re going to die like that, out here in the middle of nowhere in the Outer Rim, you’re going to get to your secret husband first and you’re going to tell him that you love him, that you don’t want to die alone, and that after this, after everything, of course you forgive him.

But you don’t have a chance. You slide across the floor, and scramble towards the ladder, and you can hear the uncharacteristic noise coming from Din down in the hull, and then everything quiets. It’s not possible. It can’t be.

A single X-wing comes out of nowhere. You stop your struggle to get downstairs. You forget everything else. Your jaw drops as your eyes track the ship. You know it before you see him. You know it because literally everything in you is shaking and screaming, every single last part of you that harnesses the Force is kaleidoscoping in the shape of Luke Skywalker, but you watch, stunned into complete silence, as he delivers three blasts, knocking each fighter down into space. You watch their trails dizzy down to nothing as everything filters back in. Din hurls himself up the ladder, promptly crashes into you, and then you’re both tangled up on the floor together.

“Nova,” Din mutters.

“That’s—” you stop, blinking, trying to take the image in, still, everything locked on the X-Wing you can see out of the starboard window, jabbing at the shape of his ship with a shaky finger, “that’s—Luke Skywalker—”

“Kicker is failing,” Din says, patiently, and then, not nearly as patiently, he grabs your face. “Hey! You either need to get her down on the nearest planet or I will, but either way, I’m not dying out here.”

“Not dying. Right,” you say, dazed, and then the adrenaline kicks back in. “Um—” you get up, heaving yourself back to a standing position with all the weight you can on the heels of your hands. You throw yourself back into the pilot’s chair. Kicker is screaming. Your comm blinks, and you raise it, still not entirely aware of what you’re doing. “Hello?”

“You need to help me ground your starfighter,” the voice warbles across the intercom, and you choke back a sob. It’s him. It’s him. You have absolutely no idea what he means, but General Luke Skywalker is talking to you. “Your kid told me he did it before.”

You squint. “My kid—?”

And then, like the sound of a million tiny, glorious bells ringing all at once, you hear Grogu’s laugh. You choke back a sob. Din’s hand finds your knee, clenches it in something that feels an awful lot like relief.

“It’s too big for us to do it alone,” Luke’s voice rings through again, “you need to use the Force.”

And, holy Maker and all the stars above, you do.

It’s not easy. You have no idea how Grogu did this alone, especially since the Crest was so much larger and clunkier than Kicker, but you let Din pilot the controls as you work with Luke and Grogu to bring the ship down as easily as you can to the closest planet. It’s not the most populated place, and you have no idea what the terrain will be like, but you put everything out of your mind except for getting to the ground in one piece.

Kicker isn’t in the best shape when you ground her, but she’s alive and, like her namesake, still kicking. You’re going to need more fuel, and definitely some repairs on the starboard side, but you’re on the ground and alive. You disembark down the gangplank, shivering even in your Rebellion-issued parka, because this ice giant is just as frozen and formidable as Hoth is, and even vaster. Din looks completely untouched in his usual beskar, but he grabs and releases his hand as Luke Skywalker’s X-wing soars through the cloud cover, touching down a good distance away from your ship. Everything in you is alive and anxious, your heart beating out an intense staccato rhythm inside your ribcage. You know this isn’t a trick, that this is really Luke, that he has Grogu, that everything you’ve been working toward for the last year is meeting you face to face, but it’s still making your knees buckle under the weight of it. When you see him moving down the ladder, you can’t help yourself, running straight towards the ship. Luke turns around, and you skid to a stop in the snow, staring at him. When he shifts, you can see Grogu safely nestled in his robes, and you choke back a small sob.

The second your child sees you, he starts crying. You do, too. The chill freezes the tears on your face, but you don’t care, and you’re running again. Grogu stretches out his tiny green arms toward you. You vaguely register that Luke Skywalker has a smile on his face, but the only thing you’re focused on at all is Grogu, and when you pick him up, he smiles at you, sniffling, latching his small body against yours as tight as he possibly can.

“I missed you, bug,” you whisper. Your words are whisked away by the howling wind, but you don’t even care. You know he can hear it. “I missed you so much.”

He warbles, and you hold him even tighter, tipping your forehead against his tiny, wrinkled green one. Din catches up to the two of you, and you turn around, beaming, eagerly passing the baby to his dad. Grogu throws himself against Din’s armor, with zero regard to how cold the beskar is, happy to simply share in his warmth.

You’re still crying. Ugly sobbing, really, slobber all over your face, and you drag the sleeve of your jacket across your nose, hoping that it’ll amend some of your tears and the remnants it left behind.

“He’s missed you for a long time,” Luke’s voice rings out, and you turn around. You stare at him. He has a warm, big smile on his face, an unencumbered one, which is in high demand these days. His blue eyes are kind and endearing, and he tracks Grogu’s movements with great care. You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar, trying to dream up any words to string together to express your gratitude. “I’m—”

“General Skywalker,” you interrupt in a rush, wincing. “M—Master Skywalker. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

He smiles at you. “You can just call me Luke.”

You nod profusely. You have the strange feeling that you’re meeting royalty, and you don’t know what to do with your hands. “I—I’m Nova. Novalise. But you can call me Nova.”

His gaze drifts from your face to Din and the baby. He nods once at Din, and you can tell there’s something yearning behind his kind eyes. Luke looks back at you. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” he continues, stepping toward you. “I’ve seen you. In visions. In the baby’s head.”

You nod, swallowing. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

The wind howls. You shiver, feeling your nose turn red from the chill. Luke shakes a bit, too, which seems notoriously human from someone so legendary, before you remember he grew up on a desert planet and probably has zero resistance to the cold. He takes another step toward you. “How long have you been having premonitions?”

You blink at him. “How did you—?”

Luke offers a tired smile. “I can sense them in you,” he answers, gently. “You’ve been in mine. I can only assume you’ve seen me in yours. When did they start?”

“A few months ago,” you answer, honestly, sifting your weight more evenly between your feet. “I’ve always thought I was tapped into…something else. Something more. But this was different. It showed up in dreams, then the baby would show me his, then I started having them of my own. Sometimes, they’re clear, like before we met Ahsoka Tano. Sometimes, though, they’re vivid and completely nonsensical. You started showing up in them recently,” you tack on, faintly, “both how you look now and…what seems to be you much older. I can’t make sense of them.”

Luke tilts his head a fraction of an inch. “Have you ever met anyone else like you besides Grogu?” He offers up another small smile. “Or me?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say, earnestly, “no, it’s just…the three of us. Have you?”

The expression on his face changes, shifting enough for you to categorize the difference. “My nephew,” he answers, but there’s something slightly off about his voice. “I train him, sometimes, too. But he also has these visions, these—premonitions. For a long time, I was the only other Jedi I knew, and I just thought that was normal. I’ve been researching, and those types of premonitions aren’t the typical vision.”

You stare at him. “What—what are we seeing?”

“The future,” Luke says, grimly. “I think. I don’t know if it’s set in stone. But there’s this darkness coming. I know you’ve felt it. Wedge told me about your visions, but he didn’t need to.” His eyes search over your face. “I can see it. You’re like me, Nova.”

Despite everything, you grin back at him. “I can think of worse people to be like. Lucky me.”

And then you see it. What Wedge was talking about. A conflicted darkness flitters across Luke’s face, and then he does his best to absolve it. He does look so much older than you were imagining him to be—not by much, because he’s only a handful of years older than you are—but his eyes are haunted with an emptiness that comes with accumulated loss. And if he’s right, there’s more to come. Din steps in closer, carrying the baby. Grogu coos, and the youthful smile that Wedge talks about spreads across Luke’s face when he looks at the kid.

“I wanted to meet you,” Luke says, finally, turning his attention back to you, “because I wanted to see it in your eyes. The Force. I wanted to show you that…you’re strong, and you’re unique, and that can very easily make you a weapon. I’m here to tell you,” he continues, leaning in, “that you can choose not to be.”

You nod, locking eyes with him. “I’m a Jedi,” you say, slightly winded, but strong. “Or at least, I’m going to be. I’m not going to let the First Order take me.”

He blinks. “You know about the First Order?”

You nod again, then slowly shake your head. “No,” you admit, finally. “Nothing really beyond their name and their plans to use us as their weapon.”

Luke studies you carefully. “I thought—I was naïve, when I first started. I thought that turning my father back to the light and letting him kill the Emperor would end things. I was wrong. There’s more to come,” he says, gravely, looking out at the barren wasteland of the planet you’re on, “and I don’t think what died fully stayed dead.”

The familiar words rush over you, seizing in your diaphragm. “What did you just say—”

And then you’re cut off by the screech of TIE fighters. You flinch, grabbing the Darksaber off of Din’s belt, unsheathing the blade. There’s five of them. Luke, immediately, unholsters his own lightsaber, a piercing green. You’re captivated by it, by the determined set of his young face. He just looks like an expert. You take stock of his fighting stance, adjusting your legs to match his position. When the first blasts come, you brandish the Darksaber in front of you, sizzling away their attack. They swoop and soar around you. You hear the impact when one hits the beskar, Din knocked to the ground.

“Hey!” you call, running over to him, dropping the saber down by your side as Luke jumps and slices at the arachnid ships in the air. Your heart is in your throat. You didn’t see the hit, but you heard him fall, and frenzied worry is burning in your chest.

“I’m fine,” Din says, gruffly, “Fine, I promise. Go be a Jedi.”

You stare at him. He nods, wrapping Grogu up in his cloak, letting his tiny hands soar out in the open. Tiredly, the baby drags down one of the ships. More artillery is fired, and you pull Din and Grogu beyond a large shoal of ice, trying to avoid the blasts.

“Go be a Jedi,” Din repeats, and you shake your head. The fighters are so aggressive in their assault, but you watch as the swoop and soar around Luke, barely shooting anything in his direction. They want Din, you realize, like a lightning bolt in your chest, they want to attack Din and the baby because they’re after you. “Nova—”

“They’re trying to kill you,” you say, grabbing either side of the helmet as more blasts shake free some of the ice above your heads. “I’m supposed to be here—”

Before you can do anything, Din wrenches the helmet off. You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to shield his face from the low, swooping fighters above your heads. “No—”

He kisses you. Full force. His lips are so much warmer than yours are, his tongue gentle and slithering into your mouth. You lean into the kiss, grabbing at him with everything you can, and then he’s pulled himself away. “I meant it when I asked you,” Din whispered urgently, “do you think you can forgive me for leaving you?”

Your heart is pounding. You can feel your eyes fill with tears. “Yes. But what are you—”

“Good,” Din answers, shoving the helmet back down, “then you can forgive me twice.”

And then he’s running, with Grogu in his arms, making a beeline straight for Kicker. You scream, but the sound gets ripped away in the wind. Terrified, you stare at Luke, who makes eye contact with you and extends his left palm, focusing on the first TIE fighter. You sheath the saber and run towards him, focusing all of your energy on the one that’s after Din. For what feels like forever, you stand back-to-back with Luke Skywalker, fighting off the evil surrounding you with nothing but the Force and each other. It feels huge in a way you can’t quantify, and even though you’re terrified with what Din’s doing, you don’t take your focus off the fighter for a second. When he’s back up the gangplank in Kicker, you help Luke tank the biggest one in the shoals of ice.

Two of them are grounded. You heave a heavy breath, trying to catch air in your lungs, and then the other three are delivering an array of artillery in your direction.

“Don’t let them touch my ship!” you scream, and Luke nods. You pull the Darksaber off of your belt, and swing it at the fighter that soars overhead, searing off their blasts.

“Nova!” Luke shouts back, and you turn to watch the holster of his green lightsaber fly through the air. Seamlessly, you grab it. The blade ignites immediately in your hand.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you yell, and Luke twists around to stand by your side. You watch him as the three remaining fighters soar in above the two of you again, heart pounding.

Luke gives you a small smile. “What you’re meant to,” he answers easily, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to the three skeletal fighters in front of the both of you, “be a Jedi.”

You close your own eyes. Two people spill out of the fighters you’ve grounded, and you let Luke shoulder the three in the sky as you run, determined, towards the two men running angrily towards you. One of them lunges for you. You use the green blade to scare him off, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, just roars at you and tries to tackle you down to the ice.

“No you don’t,” you seethe, swiping the saber at his arm. It barely cuts anything, but the burn of it makes him howl. “You don’t get to have me.”

The other one is huge, menacing, built. You stare up at him, trying to only portray strength, not showing him a sliver of weakness, but when he comes for you, he’s vicious. This one’s smarter. He brought his blaster with him, and the bolts that he fires off are lethal and dangerous.

“You have no idea what you’re up against, little girl,” he smirks, and then, lightning quick, his hand closes around your throat. You’re not even sure how it happened, because you were brandishing Luke’s blade, and you’re much faster than the large figure in front of you, but the light behind your eyes starts to fade as he lifts you into the cold air, choking you out. “I’m not going to kill you,” he whispers, a horrible grin on his face, “what we’ll do will make you wish you were dead.”

You gasp, feeling the black spots in your vision slowly pinprick. You can barely see Luke. You don’t know where Din and Grogu went in Kicker. You can still hear the jeering of the soaring TIE fighters, and you know there’s only one thing left to do. You close your eyes, let everything run out of you backward, and then offer one, singular word to the universe.

Help.

Your consciousness fades back in. The man holding you drops you to the ground, and you wheeze and retch, trying to pull all of it back, stumbling away from his grip. It takes you a second to register what’s happening. Kicker comes out of nowhere, Din fires a series of blasts to the remaining fighters, Luke takes his lightsaber back to strike down both of the men, and above them all, Grogu has his eyes closed, his ears pushed back, and his little hands up in the air, using all of his tiny powerful body to Force choke the man who tried to throttle you.

You love him. Maker, you love him, so much. You cry up to him in relief, and the second he hears your voice, he stops, leaving the thug unconscious. Din uses up the rest of the artillery to blow the remaining fighters to bits, and then he grounds the ship.

The man, strangled, warbles out, “the First Order won’t forget this.”

Luke, icily, rises one eyebrow and his right hand, coaxing the man into a faint. “Neither,” he says, coolly, even after he’s sure the other guy’s out, “will we.”

“Thank you,” you say, warmly, rocketing the baby up in your arms. “Thank you, thank you—”

“His idea,” Din says, and you look up at him, both irritated and relieved. “I’m sorry I—”

“You,” you say, voice shaking, “are not forgiven.” But you jump on him as well, wrapping your arms around the cold beskar of his shoulders. “But thank you,” you whisper, in a voice so quiet that you know only he can hear it.

“This isn’t the end,” Luke says, behind you, and he tosses the Darksaber over to you. Din catches it midair with a singular hand. “This is just the beginning.”

“I’m not tired,” you say, exhausted, holding out his saber in your hand. “Thank you. For everything, thank you.”

“No. You hang onto that,” Luke says, finally. He has a strange expression in his eyes. “Keep the lightsaber. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again, soon enough.”

Grogu, nestled up in your arms, stares up at you. You know, even wordless, what his huge eyes are asking. “Can we—” you start, voice shaking, “can—can Grogu come back to Mandalore with us for a few days?”

You wait with bated breath. Luke nods, meeting your eyes. “When you bring him back to Ahch-To,” he agrees, the ghost of a smile sparking up his face again, “bring my lightsaber with you. I’ll teach you a few things.”

You nod, profusely. Luke nods at the both of you, and right as he’s turning to go back to his X-wing, you find the rest of your question from earlier.

“What did you mean?” you call out, after him. “When you said what died didn’t stay dead?”

Luke’s eyes are haunted with something you don’t entirely understand. “Evil has a way of rising again,” he says, finally, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if the people I killed find a way to come back.”

It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “The people you killed?”

He looks at you. You know what he means. The Emperor, or at the very least, the horrible people who surrounded him. You swallow, trying to regulate your breath. “What—what can we do?”

Luke glances from Din to the baby to you. “Be a Jedi,” he repeats, his voice faraway. “I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, watching him, dazed, walk back to his ship.

“And Nova,” Luke continues, bracing himself on the ladder, “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” you whisper, watching as the X-wing disappears into the cloud cover, staring at the trails as they evaporate, as you hold the only tangible proof in the form of his lightsaber that Luke Skywalker was ever here at all.

The trip back to Mandalore is probably as cold as the one here, but you don’t even notice. You have the baby in your lap again, and all of the warmth in the whole galaxy is sitting here with you, green, adorable, and alive. The three of you spend the entirety of the trek cuddled up together, and when you finally land on the planet, you’re exhausted but safe. Your legs hurt from running, your scar aches from the residual cold, but you barely notice them. They’re such small hurts in comparison to all the good nestled safely in your arms.

Grogu, as always, is exhausted from using the Force to ground your ship and choking out the guy trying to do the same to you, and he falls asleep in your arms before you make your way back to the suite that Bo-Katan gifted the two fo you the last time you were here. You lay him down in the tiny bassinet in the adjoined room, his little snores just as quiet and angelic as they were the last time you heard him.

Your heart, still ran over from all the danger you’ve spent the last year fighting off, is full. You walk into the fresher, staring at your reflection. You’re positively disheveled, your clothes dirty and torn, your hair hanging half out of the braid you tied it in multiple planets ago, but that smile on your face is still lighting up even the darkest parts of your eyes. You stare at yourself, running your fingers across your lips, taking in every single inch of yourself. You don’t look like a normal twenty-six-year-old. You certainly don’t look like royalty. But you look like you. Nova, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim. Nova, wife, mother, Rebel. Nova, yourself.

That alone makes the grin stretch even wider. Din walks into the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror, wrapping his big arms around your waist, letting his helmeted face rest on your shoulder blades.

“You are,” he sighs, “so beautiful.”

“I’m a mess,” you insist, giggling.

“Beautiful,” Din repeats, and when you tentatively hook your fingers under the rim of his helmet, he lets you gently pull it off. You stare at every sinch of his handsome, rugged face in the mirror, your eyes roaming over the valleys of his lips, the mountain of his nose, his gorgeous brown eyes that hold the stars.

“You are, too,” you whisper, faintly, and then he’s turning you around, his strong hands on your hips.

“I never finished giving you your birthday present,” Din murmurs, and he starts pulling his worn gloves away from his fingers. You watch as he lets them drop to the floor, breath hitching in your throat. “Do you think you could let me do that, cyar’ika?”

You nod, breathless. When he strips you down, you’re expecting to be perched on the cold metal of the sink as his mouth returns, again and again, between your thighs, but his warm, rough hands hook underneath your thighs and he carries you out of the fresher.

Din lays you down on the bed. He’s still fully clothed side from his helmet, and for what feels like an eternity, you just stare into his eyes, thanking the Maker and all the stars above that you’re the one that gets to know him like this, that he trust you to look at his face, that you broke down on Nevarro all those months ago.

And when Din dives between your thighs again, you know he’s thanking everything in the universe for the same exact things.

His mouth is an omen, a prayer, a miracle. You’ve never been particularly religious, but he makes you want to be. You can feel the way he’s opening you up, letting no part of you go untouched or untasted. You sigh, moaning loudly into the soft flesh of your arm, trying to stifle the animalistic noises he’s evoking. When his tongue finally, finally finds your clit, you can feel what he’s spelling. First it’s mine, then it’s your name, and then it’s I love you. You gasp. You could recognize it anywhere, even in the dark, and still, your pulse is absolutely racing.

“Din,” you start, strangled, “fuck—I’m—I’m gonna—”

He pulls his mouth away from you, an obscene smacking noise filling the rest of the room. “Good,” he enunciates, and then his tongue is back on you.

You’re pretty sure you see heaven. Your fingers knot tightly in his gorgeous dark hair, whimpering as he coaxes another orgasm out of you, then another, then another. Your legs are shaking, and you’re infinitely grateful that he carried you out here instead of trying to eat you on the edge of the sink, because you wouldn’t have been able to stay standing. You swallow, gasping harder and harder as his mouth pulls off your pussy and roves up your stomach, decorating your scar with the sweetest kisses, pawing gently at your tits before his mouth licks love bites into the underside, above your nipples, in the middle of your chest. You think that if he asked, you’d let Din plant hickeys literally anywhere he wanted, to put his claim on you, to prove that he’s yours. When his mouth meet yours again, it’s like you’ve died and come back to life.

You can taste yourself on Din’s lips, salty sweet. He licks into your mouth. “Taste so good,” he croons, mouth dropping to the pulse point behind your ear. You shudder as he teases you with his mouth, two fingers dipping in your slick and then pushing inside of you. You clench and moan around him, and faintly, you hear him moan about how tight you are before the rush of another orgasm rips into you and everything goes starry and skyward.

Finally, you come back to your sense, reeling. “Din,” you try again, but his name comes out in a breathless puff of air. You’re writhing under his touch, every inch of you alive and his. You feel electric.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he grunts out, and you don’t even have time to try to bargain for a taste of his cock, to touch him, to put your mouth in places that’ll make him feel as good as you do. For a second, he pulls you up so you can wrap your mouth around him, but the second he thrusts into your throat, he’s gone. “Not gonna last,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your loose hair, “I have to fuck you now, cyar’ika.”

Your eyes roll back. “If—if you must,” you manage, but your voice is so thick and laden with lust that the joke doesn’t deliver. Din uses the head to rub against you a few times before he goes in, teasing your swollen clit before he pushes everything inside of you.

It’s everything. He’s not gentle, this time, which is exactly what you wanted. You don’t think you could see straight for days if he tried to pound you with ease. You want to be absolutely annihilated, to have the breath taken out of you. Wordlessly, Din does just that. He fucks into you hungrily, without remorse. You’re both moaning. His lips press up into your ear, but you can’t even recognize what he’s saying as he fucks everything out of you. Eventually, his words register-feel so good, my sweet thing, fuck, Nova—and you cry out as you clench down around him for what feels like the hundredth time. Din plants a singular kiss against your lips, moans, and whispers, “that’s it, sweet girl,” and then both of you are sent to the stars at the same time, gasping, moaning, screaming, like you’re colliding stars, like you belong to nothing but each other. It’s everything. It’s huge. It’s that something more you’ve always felt, that cosmic connection, that dual astral projection. For what feels like hours, you lay together, breathing in each other’s air, satisfied and happy.

Both of you end up in the shower, although you can’t remember either one of you asking to move towards the fresher. You let Din drag the soap over your sore shoulders, cleaning between your legs, frothing the suds in your hair. You don’t know when he had the time or the energy to do it, but he got that lavender soap you love, and the scent fills up the place with steam.

You do the same, wordlessly, dragging his soap over his broad shoulders, across his toned stomach, down both of his legs. You kiss Din as he presses his lips against yours, over and over again, and when you leave the shower, you’re both inches from sleep, happy, exhausted.

The bed is so much more comfortable than the one on Kicker. You sink into it, completely naked, shifting as close to Din as you possibly can. It’s dark in here, but you’re close to the window, and you see the foreign shapes of the buildings of Mandalore, and everything filters back in.

“Did you ever believe,” you whisper, not even sure if Din is still awake, “that when we met, we would end up both being Rebels and the leaders of a whole planet?”

“No,” he answers, immediately, his voice muffled against the back of your neck. “Not a chance in hell.”

You grin, into the darkness. “And now?”

“Now,” Din sighs, pulling you closer, “I truly can’t imagine our lives being any other way.”

You nod, in silent agreement. The night beckons you in closer and closer, and you let yourself fall onto the edge of sleep, heart full, eyes closed, exactly where you’re supposed to be. When you drift off to dreamland, you hear Din whisper he loves you, and you replay the words over and over in the back of your mind until they forge a promise stronger than the one living on your ring finger, content, together, on the precipice of something more.

Morning comes quickly, and it comes with Grogu jumping on the bed and waking both of you up with his abnormally loud cooing. You wake first, not even sure how the little guy found his way up on top of a bed that’s easily five times his height, but you pull him into the nest of sheets and blankets you and Din made in your sleep. When he wakes up, it’s slowly, and you touch your fingertips over to his face, tracing lines of love into his skin.

“Good morning, Mand’alor,” you say, and Din’s eyes open slowly.

“Not yet,” he answers, voice flat. You look over at where Bo-Katan must have left your outfits while you were gone on Hoth. His is typical—the Mandalorian beskar he’s been wearing for as long as you’ve known him, but with a neutral blue cloak to replace all that black. Your dress is gorgeous. You didn’t even know if you would have anything new for the ceremony, because all you’re doing is standing there, but you have to admit, Bo-Katan went above and beyond with this one. The color of the dress is shimmering, a dark navy blue that’s almost completely black. The fabric hugs the top half of your shoulders, and as the dress flows down the rest of your body, the blueness lightens into the same color Din’s cloak is made of. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, rivaled only with Yavin’s sunsets and Naator’s pink skies, and when you put it on, you feel like a princess. It’s not practical, but it’s also functional, and as you interrogate the chair full of things Bo-Katan brought you, you find a matching garter, shimmering in the same impossible way the dress does, embroidered with twin silver stars. When you slip it on, the lightsaber Luke’s letting you hang onto fits perfectly, flush against your legs. There’s a small slit trailing up the dress, so hidden by the starry, shimmering fabric that no one would catch it if they weren’t looking for it, and you grin as you put it on, thanking the Maker above for the Mandalorians being so effective in their aesthetic.

“Holy fuck,” you hear behind you, and you turn around. Din’s only in his underclothes, the tiniest bit of his belly peeking out from under his new tunic, and he’s staring at you.

“Bo-Katan,” you say, shyly, taking stock of his shocked face, “does not miss.”

Din walks toward you, taking in every inch of your shimmering dress, mouth slightly ajar. “No,” he murmurs, and then he’s striding towards you, holding your face in his hands, his lips feverish and frenzied against yours. “She certainly does not.”

“Neither do you,” you whisper, dazed, touching your lips, staring at him as he shoulders the cloak. “You look—”

“Strange,” he mutters, checking out his reflection critically.

“Amazing,” you correct, walking closer. The two of you look like royalty—outfitted in all the blue bells and whistles that Mandalore has to offer, standing tall in all that silver regalia—and when Grogu tugs at the bottom of your dress, you lift him into your arms, adjusting his own blue outfit. You don’t look like a rebel and a bounty hunter and their strange baby. You look like a family, a real one, and something else. You look like you belong here.

When Bo-Katan meets you at the door, she looks equally as regal. Her eyes roam over Din’s helmeted face with slight disdain, but she looks at you like she sees stars, and when her gaze flits over to Din again, her expression has molded into something that faintly rings out excitement.

“Are you ready?” she asks, leading the three of you down the staircase at the back of the quarters. You can tell by the shift in architecture that you’re heading straight for the throne room, and your heartbeat is knocking itself dizzy. Everything feels alive and electric, that buzzing of something more loud in your ears. You know this isn’t the ending. You know that by all accounts, that this is truly a beginning—you’re about to be married to the new leader of Mandalore, you have an entire shadowy fascist regime to beat, you know practically nothing about being a Jedi—but everything that started when you crash landed on Nevarro all those years before feels like it’s settling cosmically into place. Your breathing is quick and shallow as you hear your heels click against the empty hall, trying to take everything in, and before you know it, you’re at the door.

Bo-Katan looks at you and Din. “Everyone’s in there,” she says, and her voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it. “They’re likely not going to be happy with this. But I’m going to go out first, and I’m going to introduce you and…” she looks over at you, and then back to Din, “and then you three will come in.”

Din nods.

“Are you ready?” Bo-Katan asks again, and there’s no greed in her voice. She’s not wanting for him to fail. You watch as she stands up straighter, and you notice the same color cloak flowing out from all of her beskar. You don’t know if you fully like her, yet, but you trust her, and you know that’s far more valuable in a situation like this. She offers you the tiniest of smiles. You return it, tenfold.

Din nods again, and then opens his mouth to speak. His voice is calm through the modulator, calmer than you would have expected. “Yes,” he says, finally, “yes, I’m ready.”

Bo-Katan nods at both of you, catches your eye one last time, and then shoulders herself through the double doors. The cheering and noise of the whole planet filters through the wide doorway, and then they click closed, leaving you and Din and Grogu together with nothing but each other.

“We can still run for it, you know,” you whisper, trying to shake the jitters out of your voice. “Think about it. We could disappear back on Yavin. Or Naator. That tiny little village. Pink skies, beautiful yellow trees.”

Din looks over at you, and you know you’re looking straight into his eyes under the visor. Your heart is beating so fast. “You made a promise to me, cyar’ika,” he says, “that you won’t run.”

You grin back at him. “True. I did say that. But I meant it in the context that I was never going to run from you. I never promised I wouldn’t run with you.”

“That’s quite the loophole.”

“I’m good,” you say, giggling, “and smart. I have like ten thousand contingency plans.”

“Well,” Din says, facing back to stare at the doors, reaching his gloved hand out to meet yours, “you don’t need them here.”

You look at him. “We’re gonna pull it off,” you repeat, trying to make your promise shine just as bright as all the ones he’s given you. “All of it. You are going to be the greatest leader that Mandalore has ever known. Grogu,” you continue, looking down at your adorable, green child nestled safely in your arms, “is going to become a Jedi.”

Din turns to you again. “And you?”

You smile. “Maybe both. I contain multitudes.”

Din laughs, and the noise is so light and so free that it makes every single inch of you melt. You beam up at him. “You certainly do,” he says, quietly, and then, after what seems like a moment of deliberation, he lifts his fingers and pulls his helmet off. He doesn’t look relaxed, but he doesn’t look particularly fearful, either.

“Are you sure?” you ask, breathless, as he brings his helmet all the way off, staring back at the double doors that Bo-Katan disappeared through a minute ago. You can only faintly hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s nearing the time when the three of you—your strange, wonderful little family—have to meet her in there.

He nods. “We’re both done running,” he sighs, his voice thick with resolve, “and I’m done with hiding.”

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you. Ni kar’tayl su, darasuum.”

“Forever, Nova,” Din whispers back. He turns to face you one last time. You stare into his eyes, that warm, eternal state of brown, and as he moves closer to you, his hands around your waist, you don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even to blink. Not even for a second. You just stare, drinking in every single inch of his gorgeous face, knowing that you know him. It pulses and burns inside you like a shared, glorious star. “This is the beginning, you know.”

“I know,” you repeat, softly, feeling as his hand gently strokes over your perfect hair. There’s a headband as part of your outfit, made out of glittering spikes of beskar, and when Din touches his hand to it, it feels like a crown. “We’re going to change the world. Stop the order. Bring peace and good things, and then when we’re done, we can retire knowing we made all of this better for the rest of the galaxy. And then,” you inhale, staring into his eyes, “we’re going to have a real wedding. Flowers. Grogu presenting our rings. Boba Fett marrying us.”

“Absolutely not,” Din cuts you off, but you can hear the lilt in his voice. “Cara or nothing.”

You grin back. “Deal.”

“And where are we retiring?” There’s a tiny sparkle of humor hidden in his voice.

“We’ll have homes on all our favorite planets,” you decide, “but we can live on the ship for good, if you like.”

“No,” Din says, his voice faraway, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “When I make our next home with you, it’s going to be permanent.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Nova—”

“We’re ready,” you assure him, stepping closer, tipping your head back. “I’m ready. Are you?”

After a moment, Din nods. The way he’s holding you—protective, possessive, wholly yours—it makes everything fade out. For a moment, a dazzling, fleeting moment, everything else fades out. You see the two of you on Nevarro the first time, the way his hands felt when he was patching your wounds, all the promises you both made and broke back on Dantooine, the vows to each other on Naator, the proposal on Yavin, every single time you’ve saved each other, which is now an even tally, standing together at the Rebel base, standing together through the darkness, through the light, still standing together here. You love him. With all of your heart, you love him, and you know it’ll last even longer than forever. There’s war coming, but for now, you’re with your husband and your baby, about to step into the next phase of saving the world. And after everything, after all of that, you know the perfect thing to say before moving through those gilded double doors.

“I’m ready,” Din repeats, more fortified. You nod, and then beam at him and the baby, pushing your shoulders back. “This is a lot,” he says, his voice still tinged slightly with anxiety, “are you sure?”

You step as close as you can, reaching your hand up to bring his face down to yours, tipping your foreheads together. ��Din Djarin,” you whisper, “I’m sure. We were always meant for something more. And,” you continue, smiling, mouth an inch away from his, “I don’t scare easy.”

And as Bo-Katan opens the double doors, you lean into your embrace, everything rushing back to the present, the entire galaxy evaporating and colliding at once. You hear the crowd in the throne room. You don’t know what’s coming next. But, you think, as you prepare to move forward, as long as you’re doing it with Din and Grogu, you’ll be okay.

So, regardless of the open door waiting for the rest of your lives in front of you, you slide your hand down Din’s face, lean into his kiss, and whisper that you forgive him.

I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED IT!!!! writing this has been the adventure of a lifetime. it's given me peace, solace, happiness, giddiness, and, most importantly, all of you. thank you all endlessly for coming along on this journey with me. i love each and every one of you with all of my heart. thank you for supporting me and my story, for leaving incredible comments and analysis, for being my friends, and for jumping off this crazy cliff with me. SM turned into the story i was always meaning to write when introduced Nova as her whole character, and your love for her has filled my soul up with so much joy. thank you, endlessly, for coming along this ride with me. i know this isn't a "real" ending, and that not every single little plotline was tied up in a neat little bow, but i hope you'll forgive me because i have PLANS for the sequel. give me a month or so to get writing and planning, and the next installment in the SM series will be up as soon as possible!!!! as always, i'll give ya all the updates on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) when writing starts!

you are all so important to me. thank you for reading, thank you for loving my words, and thank you for seeing this through with me.

onward and upward; the next adventure awaits!!!

all my love always,

amelie

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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago

Text

Unprofessional [pt. 1] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 2]

A/N: Someone requested yandere Tendou and I was like !!! However when I wrote it, it turned out kinda long so I split it into 2 parts; I’ll answer the req when I post part 2. Anyway I’m obsessed with the concept of salaryman Tendou, please enjoy!

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 22-23 in this), workplace/office setting, liberal use of “senpai”, alcohol, Tendou’s crackhead energy is toned down a little bit because of the setting [In part 2: smut, 18+]

You don’t really like Tendou when you first meet him.

Your first impression when your boss introduces the new employee is that he’s all talk and no substance. He’s been hired fresh out of university, and he’s got the stink of a former frat boy all over him—that baseless enthusiasm, chaotic goodwill and arrogance mixed together. That might have been your type when you were still sucking down cheap keg beer from red solo cups, but you’re two years into your career as a real grown-up adult now, and the cockiness that radiates off Tendou in waves is just…annoying.

Unfortunately, when your boss tells you to take the newbie under your wing, train him, and be his mentor, it’s not a request. It’s a demand. So you decide to suck it up. If you’re going to have to spend every second at the office with Tendou trailing after you like a baby duck, you may as well get used to him.

After a few weeks, you have to admit he’s not that bad. Sure, he’s not the best at respecting personal space, but how can you blame him? When he looms over you to reach for a file above your head for the nth time and traps you between his body and the cabinet, you finally lose your patience and snap at him to give you some space, but he looks so surprised and apologizes so sincerely that you can’t help forgiving him. You feel a little bad, even, when he explains that he’s never worked in an office before so he’s not used to all the rules that he’s expected to follow in a professional environment.

You can’t really fault him for that, especially when you’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching him these things. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything,” you tell him, and he perks up so quickly that you feel even worse for chewing him out in the first place.

The thing is, Tendou doesn’t really stop getting close to you once you chastise him. It just bothers you less. The dozenth time his hand lingers over yours while you’re passing him a document or he picks an invisible thread off your blouse or sits a little too close when you’re riding in the back of a taxi to a client meeting, you start convincing yourself that you’re overreacting. He’s probably not being that much more pushy than your other coworkers—you’re just more aware of him because you don’t know him as well.

And it doesn’t help that he’s tall, towering over you and pretty much everyone else in the office. The cheap suits he cycles through can’t quite conceal the hard lines of muscle underneath—oh, whoops. Now you’re the one crossing boundaries. Tendou is so big that you’re just…more conscious of his presence, right?

This is drilled into you one night after a marathon overtime session when you’re carrying a tall stack of boxes back to the archives. Maybe it’s because you’ve been at work for 11 hours, but the files feel like they’re filled with rocks, not paper. Your muscles are this close to giving out when Tendou appears out of nowhere to pluck the files out of your arms. “Here. Gimme, gimme, I’ll take ‘em.”

The way he carries the heavy boxes so effortlessly makes you kind of embarrassed at how much you’d struggled with them. “You’re pretty strong, hm,” you say absently. Oops, was that inappropriate? You don’t want him thinking you’re hitting on him or something.

“Oh—yeah I guess?” Tendou’s laugh (the one that used to grate on your nerves) sounds like he’s pleased with himself. “I go to the gym a lot.”

“Wish I could find the time. Or the discipline,” you reply as he replaces the file box in the archive room.

“Wow, senpai is calling me disciplined. My heart is pounding.”

His tone is sarcastic enough that you don’t think twice about the second part of his statement. “Don’t get too full of yourself. If you have the energy to go to the gym, you should spend that time double checking your expense reports before you submit them.”

“Ouch.” Tendou holds his hand over his heart in mock betrayal. “Targeting my weak points, how ruthless. But seriously, working out is second nature to me. Been doin it since I was a kid so it doesn’t take any kinda discipline.”

“Oh? Did you play sports or something?”

“Yeah…” Tendou’s voice trails off and when you pause from your task of organizing the files to look up at him, he’s staring directly at you. “…Used to play volleyball. Grade school through college.”

The way he’s looking at you, searching your face for something you can’t identify, makes you think this is more important than it seems. You tip your head to the side, waiting for him to continue.

“Our team in high school was pretty good,” he says slowly.

“That’s cool,” you say, turning back to the paperwork. “Did you ever play Shiratorizawa? They’re my old high school—I think their volleyball team went to nationals back in the day. I was never into sports though.”

A moment passes, and you frown. Did you say something wrong? But just before you’re about to change the subject, Tendou starts laughing. “Shiratorizawa? No, I don’t think I ever played them.”

Your laugh joins his a second late, although you don’t know why he thinks it’s funny in the first place. In the echo of your voices, you can hear how quiet it is in the archives. There’s something here you’re missing, but you’re not sure what.

Luckily enough, the somewhat awkward atmosphere doesn’t carry over to the next day. When you get into the office, Tendou is his usual clingy self, distracting you from your own work to ask you to teach him something and pulling you away when you’re talking to your coworkers so you can double check his emails before he sends them. If anything, he’s more attached than usual—when you go to a contract renewal negotiation with a client he insists on tagging along, so you let him after making him promise not to get in the way.

Of course he doesn’t keep his promise, but you end up appreciating his intrusion more than you could have predicted. The client is stubborn and rude until Tendou chimes in (much to your dismay, at first) with an offer to add on some oddly specific perks to the contract. You’re already practicing your apology speech to the boss in anticipation of losing the client, but to your amazement he agrees to Tendou’s terms and the deal is sealed, along with a healthy bonus for you.

You’re on cloud nine, practically skipping out of the building with Tendou at your side as you fantasize about what you’re going to do with the bonus after you split it with him. A weekend vacation out of the city? An online shopping spree? Some fancy dinners at five-star restaurants? Knowing you, the money will end up going straight to your savings, but you still can’t contain your giddiness. “How did you know he wanted that add-on? Seriously, I had no idea!”

“A guess! I’m good at reading people.” Tendou’s just as elated as you, pumping his fist and whooping like a kid as soon as you’re away from the client’s earshot. “Woohoo! Yay! Our first sale together!”

“A guess? You risked that huge contract on a guess?” You roll your eyes but you’re too excited to be mad at him. “Anyway, you don’t have to say ‘our’ first sale, I know it was all you. I’ll tell the boss you’re doing a good job.”

“No way, it’s ours! Both of us. Me and senpai.” Tendou’s hand reaches down and his fingers lace with yours, squeezing so tight his knuckles go pale.

The thrill of your success flickers as nervousness sets in. Is he holding your hand? “Tendou—“

“Senpaiiiii~” he says in sing-song, swinging your hand as you walk to meet the taxi and ignoring your meek attempts to pull away. “Didn’t I do a good job?”

“Y-Yeah. Good job, Tendou.”

Work friends. The two of you are work friends. Your boss passes all comments to Tendou through you (mostly things about how he’s good with clients and charismatic but needs to stop making minor errors on paperwork). When one of you is sick, your coworkers ask the other to pass on their good wishes. Tendou fits into his role at the office seamlessly, and you can’t say you don’t appreciate the fact that all of his good work is reflecting well on you.

So when his birthday rolls around two months after he’s hired, it’s up to you to plan the office drinking party (only after he complains to you about how he doesn’t have any friends since moving to Tokyo). You have the date you got from Facebook—May 20th—circled in red pen on your private calendar along with a little doodle of a birthday cake.

“What’s that?” asks one of your coworkers, pointing to the circle, as you flip through your agenda a week before the event.

“Tendou’s turning 23,” you tell him. “It’s a Friday, so some of us are going to go to a restaurant and drink a little. You’re coming, right?”

“Oh…yeah.” Your coworker scratches his head and clears his throat. “You guys are pretty close, huh. Um, I actually wanted to ask—you’re not together, are you?”

A chill runs up your spine. “Together? Who said that?” If this rumor gets around to your boss it’ll kill your career. These things always look worse for the woman than for the man. God, it was probably something Tendou said without thinking, he’s always talking about you and someone could easily misinterpret all that praise…

“Well, if you’re dating—“

“We’re not dating,” you say quickly. “We do a lot of work together because I’m training him, but it’s not like that.”

“Really?” Your coworker straightens and smiles. “Cause I was actually thinking of asking if you wanted to go out this weekend—“

“Senpai? Can you help me with this draft?”

Damnit, it’s Tendou getting in the way at the absolute worst time—especially considering he just had to come up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder. Seriously, how many times do you have to tell him to stop doing that when you’re talking to someone else? You’re not sure whether to be irritated at him for cutting your coworker off, concerned that the other man won’t believe what you said about you and Tendou having a strictly professional relationship, or relieved that you don’t have to give an answer to what sounds like an offer for a date.

You cast an apologetic glance at your coworker and make your way over to Tendou’s desk, hoping against hope that the interruption doesn’t look too suspicious. You’d die if word got around to your boss that you were dating your mentee.

///

You’ve got this office drinking party thing down to an art. Step one is to load up on greasy appetizers that’ll increase your alcohol tolerance, step two is to drink plenty of water, and step three is to pour yourself a single drink early and take small sips.

There’s a step four, too: make sure no one else’s glass get’s below the 1/4 mark. Your boss and coworkers are a lot less receptive to how little you’re drinking when they’re all nice and tipsy. It’s a system you’ve perfected over the years, one that allows you to have fun with people from the office without risking making an ass out of yourself or getting a hangover (which, at 25, is a lot more unpleasant than it used to be).

You can’t count the number of times you’ve witnessed the awkward drunken escapades of your fellows, which range from the endearing (your boss crying over how much he loves his wife) to the awkward (coworker makeout sessions) to the potentially criminal (bar fights. So many bar fights). You’re happy to remain a neutral observer, and tonight is no exception.

The only problem is that Tendou hasn’t yet mastered the art of drinking lightly when you’re around people you work with, so now, at the end of his party, he’s (for lack of a better word) trashed. His cheek is mashed flat to the restaurant table like it’s glued there and his head is surrounded by progressive rings of bottles and cans. It’s some kind of miracle that he hasn’t yet gone to the bathroom to get sick.

“Sorry Tendou,” you sigh. “I should have been keeping a better eye on you.” You had no idea he’d get so drunk so quickly. Aren’t tall guys supposed to have high tolerance or something?

“Sssshenpaii,” Tendou slurs, hoisting his head off the table with that looks like Herculean effort. “I liiiike when…when ya look at me…”

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically.

Tendou’s head whips around. “Where’d everyone go?”

“They all left—now it’s time for us to go home too. Come on, I’ll help you get to the taxi.” You pay the bill (oof, there goes your petty cash for the week) and pull on Tendou’s shirt sleeve to get him to stand up. Luckily he’s just sober enough to realize what you want him to do and he follows you out to the street with an arm draped over your shoulders to steady his meandering footsteps.

The real trouble comes when the two of you are seated comfortably in the cab and the driver asks for Tendou’s address, which, apparently, he can’t remember. You do the sensible thing and look through his phone, but his own contact card provides no hint to where he lives in Tokyo, only a phone number, email, and address in Sendai which has to be his parents’ house—

Wait.

Tendou’s from Sendai?

You’re from Sendai. You didn’t know he was too. What a coincidence that both of you moved to Tokyo from Sendai. You’ve mentioned your hometown to him a couple times—how come he never told you he’s from the same place? You’re only two years older than him; maybe you’ve run across him in Sendai before the two of you started working together.

Now that you think about it, his face has always been kind of familiar…you thought it was just ‘one of those faces’, but…?

This isn’t the time to wonder, though. You poke Tendou gently in the side, careful not to jar him enough to risk any stomach upset. “Tendou? Do you remember what street you live on?”

After a long pause Tendou names a street, but it’s your company’s address which isn’t located anywhere near a residential district. When you tell him to think harder, he grimaces, lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “Don’ wanna go home…lemme sleep over at senpai’s house.”

“What? You can’t stay at my place.”

“Why noooot? ‘m tired,” he drawls, eyes closing as his head droops onto your shoulder in the back of the cab.

“It’s—it’s inappropriate—wait, no-no-no-no don’t fall asleep,” you tell him desperately but it’s already too late. A light snore filters out of him and you curse. “Tendou—“

“Address?” the cab driver barks insistently, giving you the stink eye in the rearview mirror.

Shit. Well, it is his birthday, you have a pull-out couch, and it’s not like anyone from the office is around to see you going home together. Tomorrow morning you’ll just have to give him a lecture about professional boundaries and make him promise not to breathe a word of this to your boss.

You give your own address to the cab driver. Tendou sleeps peacefully on your shoulder throughout the entire drive, rousing only when you whisper his name in his ear outside your building (which is a miracle, because you know without a doubt that you’re not capable of carrying him). When you get up to your apartment, you deposit him on the sofa bed and tell him not to look through your stuff while you brush your teeth.

Obviously, he doesn’t listen to you. When you emerge from the bathroom, Tendou is standing in the middle of your living room and turning the pages of an old photo album of yours.

“Hey, give me that.” You try to pull it away from him, but he doesn’t let go and his grip is stronger than yours, so the album remains firmly in his hands. “If you’re sober enough to mess with my things, you should go home.”

“This is senpai, right?” Tendou says, pointing to one of the photos.

Despite your exasperation, you lean in to take a look. It’s a picture from high school with you and some friends, all of you wearing your Shiratorizawa uniforms and grinning cheekily at whoever took the picture. Your fingers are cocked up in a peace sign. “Yeah? That’s me.”

“So cute…senpai is really cute…” Tendou’s long finger trails over the edge of your face though the filmy plastic covering the photo.

“Um…you need to get to sleep,” you say nervously, pulling a little harder on the album.

He doesn’t budge, instead just flipping back in the album to older pictures from when you were little until he stops at a photo of you and your younger brother in grade school. Against your better judgement, you frown and look closer to try and pick up whatever caught his interest in this particular image.

“How old…?” he asks.

“I don’t know, 10 or 11 maybe?”

Tendou nods. “When I met senpai…you were this old, yeah.”

“Jeez, you’re really drunk. We met two months ago, remember? I was on the interview board.”

“Yeah.” Tendou’s gaze is glued to the photo. “I was so sad, ‘cause senpai doesn’t remember me. But also really happy to see you after such a long time…I thought it was a dream…”

“Hm? I don’t get it.”

Tendou finally looks up from the picture and meets your wary gaze with those wide red eyes. God, you used to think his face was so creepy—lately you find his zealousness endearing, almost childlike, but right now? It’s making your feet itch how much you want to step away from him. “I was really hoping you would remember on your own, but I guess I’ll have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How me an’ senpai met…”

Are you imagining it, or does his voice sound a lot less slurred than it did just 20 minutes ago? “You’re not making any sense.”

“Shh, just listen…your little brother played volleyball when you were kids, didn’t he?”

How did he know that? You nod hesitantly.

“Yeah…he was in my grade. He was a bad kid, y’know that? Always saying mean things to me.”

It’s true. Your brother’s always had a mean streak in him.

“He used to call me a monster. ‘Cause, y’know—“ Tendou taps a finger against his face. “Guess I look weird. And my name, too. So he said he didn’t wanna play with me. Demons can’t play on human teams. Every day, saying cruel things. I really hated him.”

Monster. Volleyball. Your little brother. Tendou Satori like the mind-reading spirits from folklore. Something’s coming to mind, a memory you haven’t thought about in years—no, decades.

Your little brother making fun of another kid. A tall kid with red hair in a bowl cut.

“I-I remember,” you stammer. “I came to his practice one time and you were there, right? That bowl cut kid was you. I got mad at him for calling you names and I yelled at him. That’s when we met?”

“Correct!” Tendou’s beaming like you just told him he won the lottery instead of recalling a random fifteen-year-old memory. “You made him let me play! I got to get on the court, and block him, and see his beaten face looking up at me. All because of senpai.”

You can play this off, you think to yourself. Tell him you’re sorry for how your brother treated him. Ask him why he never told you that the two of you have met before. Say something. Anything. But your mouth is too dry to let you speak.

“And, you know…” Tendou’s voice softens and a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I thought you were so cool. I couldn’t believe you were related to that jerk. Can I…tell you a secret?”

No. Deep down you know what he’s going to say, and you don’t want to hear it.

Tendou’s hand comes up to comb through your hair, gently pulling through the delicate strands next to your face and tucking them back so he can lean in and whisper into your ear (even though there’s no one else around). “I like you, senpai.”

Stop it. Stop it. Your blood feels cold in your veins.

“I’ve liked you ever since then. I used to wish we were in the same grade so I could be your friend and talk to you every day. Whenever we were in different schools I missed seeing you in the halls and hearing your voice when you spoke to other people.”

“Stop...stop talking,” you whisper, but Tendou continues like he didn’t hear you.

“Why’d you have to go all the way to Tokyo for college? In my third year at Shiratorizawa I studied for your school’s entrance exam forever, but I didn’t get in. Was too busy with volleyball, I guess.” He pauses. “Oh, by the way, I went to Shiratorizawa. I lied about that, sorry. But—seriously, d’you have any idea how hard it was for me when you were away at university? Not seeing the person I love for six years?”

Love, he said. You feel nauseous. “Tendou, you don’t—“

“Let me finish, okay senpai? You don’t know how much I’ve been through. Always having to respect your ‘personal space’—“ he frames the phrase in mocking air quotes— “when I need to touch you so bad I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

And then he’s hugging you into his chest, crushing your torso into his. You struggle and try to get him to let you go, but Tendou is so much stronger than you.

“You’re not that different from your brother after all, are you?” he hums into your hair. “You’ve been torturing me. You know how you lean over my desk when you show me something on my computer? I can…see down your shirt when you do that. And I smell your perfume. I spent two hours at the mall trying all the different perfumes so I could find the right one…thought my nose was gonna stop working! But don’t laugh—“

You’re not laughing.

“—the salesgirl looked at me funny but I got it eventually. Chance Eau Fraiche, right? I can’t believe how expensive that stuff is, what is it made of gold? It was worth it though! I saw this news article about how smelling things in your sleep can trigger memories, so I tried spraying your perfume on my pillow before I go to bed and now I get to see you at work and when I’m dreaming—”

“STOP IT!” Your slap echoes across the room with a resounding crack. You’ve never hit anyone before in your life, but your aim is good enough to leave Tendou staring with a shocked expression off to the side and a bright red mark on his face. His arms fall down from you and you back away from him, clutching your hand to your chest. “You need to get out. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. We...we can talk about this tomorrow, but right now you have to go.”

Your heart is beating like hummingbird wings, sending a flush up to your face that you know is visible. Tendou ghosts his hand over his cheek and is quiet for a long moment. “I wanted to do this the right way,” he says finally.

“What?”

“I tried. But you’re so obsessed with professionalism. You refused to see me like that,” he sighs. “You’re too responsible. Although it’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Please listen to me...” The psychological anxiety of this revelation is stirring up a primal fight or flight instinct, and you start backing up.

“I really wanted to treat you gently. You deserve to be treated well…”

“Tendou, wait.” How far are you from your bedroom? You don’t want to resort to hiding from him, but you’d feel a lot better with a locked door between you and him.

“…but senpai, I’ve waited so long. And it’s my birthday.”

Your hands scrabble for the doorknob, only—oh. He’s not just stronger than you, he’s faster too.

➠ [Part 2]

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori

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mmimagine-40 · 4 years ago

Text

Warmth

Stuck x Reader

!CABIN, CUDDLY STUCK!

I can’t get out of my head the image of living with Steve and Bucky in a cozy cabin in the mountains that they made!

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Steve smiled as his eyes opened to see Y/n curled up into his chest. Blanket jumbled all around her as she had her face buried in his chest. He looks over her to see that Bucky has moved to the edge of the bed. Which explains Y/n being so curled up to him, probably cold. Steve smiles softly watching her for a bit. He blushes her hair out of her face and leans down to kiss her forehead. “Doll, I got to get up.”, He whispers in her ear as he lightly shakes her. She mumbles a soft no , shaking her head. Y/n wrapped her arms around him trying to keep him there. He let out a soft chuckle, “Princess , I got to go get groceries before the storm hits.”. A huge storm was coming their way. Bring even colder weather and lots of rains. Usually resulting in The roads up to the cabin being closed or not able to drive through. They didn’t have enough food to last them till it cleared up. “No, warm.”, Y/n mumbles out trying to curl up even more into him. “You're welcome to come if you want.”. Y/n just shakes her head again , trying to stay in the warmth sleepy state. “Well then, Sorry doll but I got to get up.”, Steve pulls her off him easily. His heart breaking at the whines of protesting. He wishes he could just stay in and cuddle his doll. But he knows if he does they will never get groceries and be stuck with no food. Can’t trust Y/n or Bucky to get up and out before the storms hit. Or get back before them. Both get distracted too easily. So he got up early to go and get back in plenty of time so that he and Bucky can finish up cutting some firewood for storming. Steve ignores the whines and grabby hands Y/n makes at him, as he gets dressed. Once he’s done he makes his way back over to her. He sits on the bed and kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry doll. I’ll be quick and as soon as I get back we can cuddle as long as you want.”. Y/n lets out a loud whine as she reaches her arms up for a hug. Steve laughs softly watching as she acts like a little baby all while keeping her eyes close. Rolling his eyes at her behavior, he leans down hugging her. He kisses all over the side of her face and neck as she buries her face in his neck. As he squeezes her tight to him. He pulls back to finally be met with her eyes open sleepy as she looks at him with a pout. Steve leans down kissing the pout away. “Shh, go back to sleep I’ll be back soon.”, he says softly as he finally pulls away and leaves the room. Going quick knowing if he waited anymore she would end up pulling him back in bed with her. Y/n can’t help but sound like a baby crying for it’s parent as she pouts and watches Stevie leave. Missing him already and he isn’t even out the door yet. Once she heard the door to the cabin close she tried to go back to sleep. But she keeps waking up to being really cold. She doesn’t remember a time since dating the boys that she has been this cold. Always being warm even with just one of them next to her. Especially the warmth that she would feel laying in between both Steve and Bucky. Bucky?! Where is bucky? That’s why I’m cold . Y/n thought. She turned over to see her other lover had moved away in his sleep to the edge of the bed. “Meanie.”, Y/n whispered as she scooched over to Bucky. Not wanting to wake him up. Curled up in the blanket she moved his right arm so she could curl up into his side. Soft moans leave her lips as the warmth radiates off his body and warms her. She purrs as she tucked herself under his chin. Y/n smiles softly as she feels his arm wrap around her pulling her closer. To where she was basically half way on top of him. Before his eyes could open fully , a smile tugged on Bucky's lips as he felt the ball of blankets cuddle into him. He yawns , Fully waking up. A shiver goes down his spine as he feels a small , cold hand lay on his left shoulder. Something Y/n always did when cuddling up to him, even in her sleep. She would rest her hand on his left should/peck. Right on top of the scars from the arm. Lightly tracing them. Something Bucky hated at first, thinking she would be disgusted by them. But she wasn’t , she loves everything about Bucky. Even the things he hates about himself. He learned to love the touch and find it somewhat claiming. Like she made all the hurt go away from that part of him. But right now not so much. “Dear Lord , doll. Your hands are like ice.”, Bucky grabs her hand , brings it to his lips. He blows hot air on them and kisses them. Anything to get them warm. “Yeah , I’m Freezing! You're a meanie! You moved away and took my warmth away with you.”, Y/n Pouts as she moves so her chin was resting on his chest looking up at him. “Aw, I’m sorry doll.” Bucky leans down to kiss her forehead. “But I left you cuddled up with Stevie. Was he not warm enough?”. Y/n lets out a big sigh as she flops back to laying on his chest. “He was, till he left me!”. Bucky finally looked over to see indeed that Steve was gone from his spot. Which wasn’t unusual , he liked to get up early to get things done. “Aw you poor baby.”, Bucky pulls her all the way up on him as he wraps his arms around her hugging her. She giggles as his facial hairs scratch her check as he rubs their cheeks together. “Where is Steve?”, He asks as he loses his grip on her , letting her lay on top of him. “Went to get groceries. Something about being back before the storm. I think he left almost an hour ago but I’m not sure.”. Bucky just nods as he moves his hands under the blanket onto her skin. He frowns to feel her skin is ice cold too, “geese doll. You're completely frozen.”. Y/n just nods holding the blanket closer as she pushes her body up against Bucky’s to get warm. “Here let me go light a fire for you.”, Bucky gently lifts her off, laying her down next to him. Y/n whined grabbing his arm. “Doll , I’m just going a few steps over there. Once I get the fire lit I’ll come right back.”, Bucky says kissing her cheek as he pulls his arm away from her to get up. Y/n pouted watching as he walked over to the small fireplace that was in the bedroom. Although it was a great view to see. Biting her lip as she watched the muscles on Bucky’s back move as he works on putting wood in and getting it lit. Her gaze was pulled away by the sounds of tapping on the roof. She turned to the window behind the bed. Her favorite part of the cabin. Something Bucky and Steve built just for her. One side of their room was completely windows. From the ceiling to the floor. Widows that Stark created. They casted a tint over depending on the light facing them. Their bed was a floating bed without a headboard , so you can lay whichever way you wanted. Y/n loved during the summer nights laying in bed and watching the stars. She frowns now at the windows seeing the rain fall down. Just a light one. With quiet rumbles of thunder and lucky no lightning. That was the only bad thing about them, Y/n hated storms. Always thinking the worst. She has never been more thankful for knowing Tony. He was able to also put in a feature that let them completely black out the windows and the sounds in the room for Y/n. Y/n let out a soft quiet whines as she feels a kiss to her neck. As Bucky gets back in the bed wrapping his arms around her. Y/n turned back to him, curling up under his chin again. Smiling as she feels the heat from the fire make its way around the room to her. They laid there for a while till they heard the door open and shut. “That must be Steve. I’m going to go help “, Bucky says trying to get up. But Y/n grips on him saying No into his neck. Bucky chuckles as he rubs her back. “Doll, I promise we will come back and cuddle you all day once we are done.”. y/n pouts letting him go. He smiled down at her. She looked cute with her pout. Bucky led down kissing her. But the pout stayed. He kissed her a few more times till it disappeared and was replaced by giggles. “I’ll be back, kitten.”. Y/n sighed watching him leave. After a bit she decides to get up. To see if they need any help. And if not to get something to eat. She wrapped the blanket around her as she got up. Making her way out of the room , down the hallway to the staircase. “Oh , there you are. I was just coming to get you. I got breakfast.”, She looks up and at the bottom of the stairs Steve is waiting for her. Y/n glared at him as she made her way down the steps slowly. Steve waited at the bottom , leaning against the railings. He raised an eyebrow at her as she stopped a step above him with a frown and her arms crossed. “What’s wrong , Doll?”. “You left me! And COld on top of that!”, She huffs as she stomps a foot. Steve bites his lip trying to hold in the laughter at how cute she is. “Aw I’m sorry , doll. But I had to. We were running out of food.”, Steve pouts to her. Y/n ‘hmms’ him as she rolls her eyes looking away from him. Steve also rolls his eyes at her. He grabs the blanket trying to pull her closer. “I am, babydoll. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”. She looks at him with a raised eyebrow , thinking about it. “What did you get me for breakfast?”, she asked. Steve smirk at her knowing he’ll win her over, “ I went to that diner you love and got you your favorite breakfast sandwich. With the pancake buns and an iced caramel coffee with extra caramel.”. He held back a chuckle seeing her eye dealt with excitement at her favorite food. Y/n tried playing it off that she wasn’t , “Okay I guess I’ll forgive you.”. She says as she takes another step down. To the last step so they are basically touching noses. “Okay, Can I have a hug and a kiss then to seal it?”, Steve asks, looking slightly up at her. Y/n moved a bit closer to him. So their lips were almost touching. See lets out a hum as she looks at him. Right as Steve leans closer to finally meet her lips, Y/n ducks down and under his arms. “Um, no. You're not that forgiven.”, Y/n says smirking. Steve’s grip on the railing becomes harder as he stops himself from falling. He stands up and turns to her shooting her a glare as she softly laughs. “Not cool baby.”, Steve shakes his head at her. Y/n just shrugs at him. “Only my favorite gets kisses.”. Steve scoffs, putting his hand to his heart as he falls back onto the stair railing. “You said you didn’t have favorites!”, Steve raising his voice faking hurt. Y/n smirks as she shrugs , “Do Now.”. Bucky walks over from the kitchen to see what was taking them so long. He raises his eyebrow , confused seeing Steve leaning like he was just shot and Y/n laughing. Steve looked towards him, “Bucky, Did you know our doll has favorites?!”. Bucky shakes his head as he laughs. “Lucky me then.”, Bucky smirks wrapping his arms around Y/n. Y/n turned to look at him, “You not my favorite ether.”. Bucky's face fell. He pulled away and looked at her , “What?!”. “But you can still have kisses and hugs. You did make a fire to keep me warm.”, Y/n says smiling at him sweetly. Bucky let out a breath of air, “Oh thank God!”. He leads over leaving a big kiss on her cheek. Y/n giggled trying to push him away. “This isn’t fair!”, Steve whines, falling onto the stairs. Acting like he is dying. Y/n shakes her head at him, “You are such a drama queen!”. She walks over to him , straddling his lap. “I’ll give you a hug and kiss if we can eat in the bed and watch spooky movies.”. Steve wraps his arms around her as he sits up. “You drive a hard bargain, babydoll. But fine.”, he says. Y/n smiles going to get up but Steve holds her down. “No, no, no. Kiss and hug now, then we go.”, Steve says. Y/n giggles as she opens her blanket letting Steve in. As she grabs his face kissing. Steve smiles in the kiss as he holds her close, kissing her. As they kiss he stands up with her. Y/n pulls away, squealing out of surprise as she wraps her arms and legs around him. Steve laughs, putting her down. “Okay , go pick a movie, we'll grab the food.”. He smacks her ass as she turns to head back up the stairs. “You know she has you wrapped around her finger.”, Bucky laughs as he heads to the kitchen. “Oh and you aren't? You made her a fire. You complain every time I ask you to do it!”, Steve says. “That’s because she’s cute.”, Bucky winks at him heading to the room. Steve scoffs , “You don’t think I’m cute?!”. Bucky just laughs , shaking his head as they walk in the bedroom. Y/n had the movie up and ready for them. She frowns seeing Steve’s pout. “Stevie , what’s wrong?”, Y/n asked. “Bucky doesn’t think I’m cute.”, Steve pouts crawling into bed and into her arms. Burying his face in her neck. “Aw , It’s okay I think you cute.”, She says playing with his hair.”. “Really?”, Steve looks up at her. Y/n shakes her head yes giving him a quick peck. “Does this mean I’m your favorite now?”, He looks up at her leaving small kisses on her jaw. Y/n smiles shaking her head no. Steve pulls away hurt as he turns to get the food. “Wait if Steve isn’t your favorite and I’m not who is? Is there someone else we don’t know about?”, Bucky asks ,getting into the bed. Y/n nods smiling as the white fur ball jumps on the bed from where she has been hiding. “Alpine is my favorite!”, Y/n says as the cat walks over and cuddles into her lap. Purring as Y/n scratches behind her ears.

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This just makes me want to cuddle up with Steve and Bucky while drinking hot coco , watching spooky movies!-MM

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aficwhore · 4 years ago

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Truth Is (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2: In the Moonlight

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After Benny’s fight, Chipmunk and Frankie bicker and have a heated argument, leading to something unexpected. When the moment passes the gang goes back to ‘Chip’s’ place to prepare for Colombia in the morning. Fish and ‘Chip’ reunite in the moonlight, but not for long.

Word count: 4.9K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: I was so excited to start this new part, I had no exact plan on how I want it to go, but I went with what I was feeling in the moment. On a Side note THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS, you all are so special to me <3.

“And the winner is!” The announcer yelled, his voice echoing through the arena, pausing just enough to make us anxious, “Ben Miller!” He then raised the hand which held Benny’s arm, to showcase the successor.

In seconds you could hear Will, “Yeah! That’s my baby brother!” followed by proud roars, ours being the loudest in the crowd. I jumped from my seat and started jumping up and down. Too distracted by my glee, I didn’t notice Frankie had stood up from next to me. Once I saw him from the corner of my eye, he picked me up, jumping with me pressed to him, Santi and Tom cheering and playfully slapping each other and Will.

Though the whole room was bursting with noise and people, when I made eye contact with Francisco, it felt like the whole world stopped. As if we were the only ones here. His smile slowly dropped into a face conflicted with lust and other emotions, I guess mine did the same. He slowly released me, placing me back on my feet, his eyes still bore into mine.

After a few seconds, his eyes flickered down to my lips. He leaned closer to me, attempting to bring his lips to mine. Feeling my heart stop when his lips lightly brushed mine, I quickly pull away, before our lips could fully meet. Clearing my throat, “We should hurry up and congratulate Benny, then we can all go rest at my house.”

Fish’s expression read nothing but confusion and sadness. “I-uh, yeah sure.” I swiftly turned to find the boys, but they had already started to make their way through the crowd and back to the locker room.

My body began to buzz with emotions, not knowing how to feel in this moment. I didn't quite understand why I pulled away, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but something didn’t feel right. The timing maybe, or even just the setting, or maybe the fact that I haven’t had closure from that one night many months ago.

Trying to snap out of my thoughts, I walked a little faster to catch up, hopefully leaving Frankie behind so I could shake this feeling. As I swiftly made it back into the locker room I saw the rest of them surrounding Benny on the bench and making jokes, while Will held a towel to his face, collecting the blood dripping from his split eyebrow.

“Chippy!” the younger Miller exclaimed when his eyes made contact with mine. “Sad to see I didn’t lose?” he questioned with a smirk playing on his lips.

Shaking my head and laughing, I glided over to him, taking over for Will, and pulling the towel away, examining the cut. “You may have won, but this sure does look nasty Benny Boy.” I light heartedly explained.

��Then it’s a good thing you’re here to patch me up.” He chuckled, a small pleading look in his eyes.

I quickly turned to Will “If I’m gonna fix this, I’m gonna need a first aid kit.” All he did was nod before trailing off the grab one.

Before I could realize Frankie was in the room with us I heard, “You did great out there kid.” He gave him a nod of approval. “Honestly was surprised, the other guy was a lot bigger than you, which I didn’t think was possible.”

Benny burst into laughter, Frankie, Santi, and Tom joining in as Will came back and handed me the kit. “Alright boys, I think we should give Mr. BigShot here, a break.” I suggested, opening the kit and pulling out some alcohol pads, gauze, and some bandaids. They all nodded and filed out the back door into the parking lot.

As I began to dab at Benny’s eyebrow, he flinched. “So, you gonna finally tell Fish about everything? You know, since now you guys are kinda talking again?”

“Ben...No, I can’t. You know that. Only you and your brother know.” I explained, attempting to use butterfly tape to seal the cut closed. Carefully, I secured the tape with a bandaid over it, making sure to be gentle as Benny sat perfectly still in front of me, staring at me.

“Fish would be understanding, maybe even regretful with how he acted. If you just told him, he would realize how dumb everything was!” The kid chirped in a hopeful tone.

With a frustrated sigh, I spoke. “No Benny, I don’t think it’s worth it, because I’m not over how he handled it all.” I turned away from him, picking up the trash from the first aid kit.

He tried to convince me again, reaching up for my shoulder. “But you won't even give it a chance, what if-”

“No! I already said no! Leave it alone! If I want to, then I will do it when I want to!” I shouted, letting my anger out. I yanked out of his grip, causing a sad look to appear on his slightly tattered face. He stayed silent, making me feel quite bad for raising my voice. “Look hun, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Just so many emotions were awoken today. You can’t blame me.”

He quietly shook his head and stood up. Towering over me, he stepped towards me and wrapped his big and long arms around me, securing me in a well-needed hug. “I’m sorry, I pushed it, I shouldn’t have. I get it, you need time to process and heal. Don’t apologize, I love you Chip.”

“I love you too B.” I hugged him back for a brief moment. “But please, for the love of all things holy, go take a shower.” I tilted back smiling up at him, reaching up and pinching my nose shut to make fun of him.

“That’s rude.” He scoffed with a smile on his lips. “I’ll see you tonight at your’s, right?” He asked as he gathered his things, heading off to the showers.

I nodded, waving and spinning around to leave out the back. When I walked through the door, I was greeted with Frankie. He was leaning against the wall next to the door. I glanced around, in hopes to find the others, but they all had vanished.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you.” He spoke, pushing himself off the wall and towards me. I nonchalantly crossed my arms, still looking around.

“What about the others?” I inquired, wanting to avoid this conversation.

“They left, I told them I would drive you home and meet them there after they grab everything.” He revealed, taking in an encouraging breath. “But I wanted to talk to you about something, about us. To be exact.” He paused, stretching his hand out, behind his neck. As he began to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, he continued. “Look, I know things happened very badly, and I could’ve listened. And if I did, maybe we would- I don’t know, maybe we would still be together. But if you just told me the truth-”

“Excuse me? I know you are not trying to apologize and then still say its my fault I didn’t tell you everything?” I interrupted angrily.

His body tensed, I could physically see the anger arising in him. “Would you just shut up and let me talk?” He spat, making me slightly jump in my skin. “This is another reason why things happened the way they did, you don’t know when to stop and be quiet.”

“You know what, fuck you.” I reacted, “Want to know what I was keeping from you? Want to finally know the goddamned truth? Well Dr. Philips is my fucking therapist.” His face contorted with confusion. “I was getting help, because I was getting worse again. The nightmares came back, and so did the depression, but I was too ashamed of telling anyone. So Fuck off Frankie.”

Twisting around, I began to make my way out to the street. “Nena (babygirl), damn it, please, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know.” He pleaded from behind me.

Completely ignoring him, I kept walking in the direction of my apartment, even though it was blocks, maybe even miles away. When I heard his footsteps get closer, I sped up, trying to lose him once again. Then finally, it was quiet, except the sound of my own feet on the sidewalk and the bustle of the city.

After walking for a few more minutes, my anger calmed, until I heard a car pull up and drive slowly next to me.

“Por favor (please), get in the car.” Francisco’s voice came from the window of the car. I acted as if I didn’t hear anyone and kept walking, facing straight ahead. “Stop being stubborn and get in! You can’t walk all the way home, it’s going to get dark!”

I rolled my eyes, still ignoring him. Then I no longer could hear the car, which piqued my curiosity, had he really given up that easily? I slowed my pace and as I turned my head to glance behind me, I was lifted into the air. “Hey! Put me down! Help! Help!” I screamed.

“Would you cut it out!” Frankie shouted, struggling to hold on to me as I swung and flailed in his arms.

“I’m being kidnapped! Someone help!” I kept yelling. “Save me-” My voice being muted as he clamped a firm hand over my mouth, continuing to drag me into his car. As he was forcing me to sit in the passenger side, he yelped. “I know you did not just bite me!”

I huffed, “Well if you weren't trying to abduct me, I wouldn't have to!” His hand reached over me to buckle the seat belt around me, I leaned forward, attempting to bite him again.

“What are you?! A fucking piranha?!” He screeched, yanking back.

Though he pulled back, his face was still inches away from mine. Our eyes met again. Our feud seemed to melt away with each passing second that his eyes bore into mine. I no longer wanted to put up a fight. Every inch of me ached for me to forgive him and make up, but I couldn’t. No matter how badly I wished to, I knew that our split wasn’t my fault, nor his, but its both of our faults for being so stubborn.

“Baby,” He spoke softly, pulling me back to reality. His gorgeous brown eyes still locked on mine. His lips lay slightly open, fanning his breath across my face. His breath smelled like mint, it mixed with his scent. He always smelled woodsy, like pine and bergamot. I had missed his intoxicating smell for so long, that I wanted to revel in it, even just for a few seconds.

I reached out my hand, letting it carefully caress his cheek, his stubble rough against my palm. He didn’t move, he stayed just a hand’s length away, allowing me to sweep my fingers along his cheek, down his neck, and to the collar of the shirt he wore. I gripped the ring of fabric and tugged him forward, crashing his pillowy lips against mine.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss, it was a needy, rough kiss. Our teeth clashed as our lips parted, inviting each other in. Our tongues swept across each other as one of his hands tangled into my hair and the other gripping my jaw, coaxing me to open up more for him.

It felt like sweet relief, longing and pining had been all forgotten. The man I missed so much, was right in front of me, touching me, kissing me, which I dreamed of for nights on end.

When I let go of his shirt and began to trail my hand lower, Frankie released my jaw and stopped my hand. He broke the kiss, offering a light chuckle when I whined at the loss of contact.

“You have no idea how much I missed that. How much I missed you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t respect your boundaries and that you weren’t ready to tell me.” He whispered with worry, placing his forehead on mine, rubbing his nose against my nose. I closed my eyes taking in the feeling. He laced his fingers with mine, with the hand that still held it to his chest.

“I know Francisco, I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you, I could've still had you all these past months if I just got over myself and came clean.” I choked out, trying to keep calm.

He squeezed my hand, “Its okay, it’s over now. Please tell me its over.” It sounded like he was close to crying.

I nodded quickly, not wanting to speak, because if I did, I know my voice would crack with emotion.

He remained crouched halfway into the passenger side, forehead to forehead with me. “Amor (love), they're going to make it to my house before I do.” I giggled, regretting my words moments later when we split. He nodded with a smile, stepped back and shut my door. He hurried around and got back in, starting the engine and making his way to my apartment.

During the drive he reached over, taking my hand in his, and glancing over every once in a while to make sure I was okay.

We sat in comfortable silence, until he spoke up. “I still have to run by my place and grab my things, do you mind if we stop on the way?”

“Not at all.” I responded, bringing up our joined hands, to kiss the back of his.

We rushed to his place, I stayed in the car as he ran in and gathered what he needed. It all seemed a blur, the euphoria from the event minutes before clouding my brain.

When we made it back to my place it was dark and everyone was already inside, I guess one of the Miller’s used their spare key to get in. I helped Frankie grab his bags and head inside with them. As we walked through the door, the rest of the team was huddled on my couch, scarfing down pizza which I assume Benny bought. They glanced up and waved quickly before going back to eating and watching whatever they were playing on the TV. I set Fish’s stuff down with the other’s and walked further into the living room to find that the boys had laid out their blankets and pillows for the night already.

I sat on the floor in front of the boys and grabbed a slice of pizza while Frankie set up his own area to sleep. When he finished, he strolled over and sat next to me.

For the rest of the movie they guys were watching, we ate and chatted until we got tired and were ready for bed. I made sure to pick up the mess we made and helped the boys get comfy. When they were all laid down and falling fast asleep like children, I smiled to myself as I turned off the lights and headed to my room to turn in for the night.

I tiptoed quietly, careful not to wake them as I walked to the laundry room and changed into my sleep clothes. Right as I made it back to my room, a hand reached out and covered my mouth to muffle the startled scream I was about to let out.

“Its me, its just me.” Frankie’s voice contrasted with the silence of the room. I relaxed, turning around to face him. It was dark but I could still see some of his features with the help of the moonlight coming through the windows.

His eyes crinkled with a smile, his teeth shining brightly. I couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him. This kiss was loving and gentle. His lips moved against mine as I let my arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. Feeling him flush against me, made my skin become hot with want and need.

He seemed to notice because he deepened the kiss, pushing me further into my room and shutting the door behind us. In seconds he spun us around and pressed me against the wall. He tilted his head back to look at me, not daring to move, except his arm.

His cool hand trailed up my thigh, dragging my sleepshirt with it. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. The material bunching on my hip, revealing the shorts I had on. I felt breathless from his touch as his index finger dipped into the waistband, lightly tugging on it. “Please tell me you need this as much as I do cariño.” He pauses with his nose nudging the side of my jaw, waiting for a response.

“Yes, pl-please, just touch me Frankie.” I stuttered, feeling my heart beat harder for him. In an instant, he drug the shorts down my legs, following them, and kissing the skin they surpassed. Once they were off and tossed away, he began his journey back up, but stopping at my stomach. I gasped as he kissed and licked at the hem of my panties, tasting the fabric and soft tummy underneath.

Through his eyelashes, he looked up and met my admiring gaze. My skin burned with desire, as if his touch was the only cure.

With little effort he wrapped one of his hands around my calf, pulling it up, and placing it over his shoulder, causing me to push my weight against the wall behind me. A small smirk finds its way to his face as he moves my panties to the side. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, I carded my hand through his hair, silently begging him to touch me.

“Paciencia mi amor (Patience my love).” his breath ghosted over my wet core, making me whimper with need. And at that moment he dipped down, placing a sloppy kiss where I wanted him most.

He placed another open mouth kiss on my mound, letting his tongue peak out and part me. My breath hitched when I felt his warm tongue flick at my aching clit. He did it again, causing me to buck my hips, asking for more friction. As he continued, slowly beginning to roll and suck on the bundle of nerves, he ran his hands up the back of my thighs, gripping my ass and pulling more of my weight onto his shoulders.

He sucked harder, bringing a hand forward, and dipping his fingers into my wetness. “Fuck, I missed your sweet taste.” He murmured from between my legs, scissoring me open with his fingers. A moan escaped my lips, not loud, but enough to spur Frankie on. He started to go faster, working me closer and closer to the edge. His hot breath encompassing my wet heat when he would open his mouth to lick a broad stripe up my slit.

Losing focus on all things other than the man situated at my cunt, I could feel him swiping his tongue across my lips, as if he was spelling something. His movements were too intricate for me to understand, if he was spelling.

I could feel a mix of my arousal and his spit start to drip down my thigh, sending a shiver up my spine. He broke away from my wetness, and chased the leaking fluid, catching it with his tongue, licking and sucking up the trail slowly, teasing me, making me wait longer for a release.

My head started to spin with lust, nothing but quiet whimpers and his name leaving my mouth. “Please, stop teasing m-” I was cut off by him curling his fingers and speeding up. He placed his mouth back on me, determined to make me finish. I tugged his hair on accident, the pleasure surging through my body.

He moaned into me from my actions, vibrations radiating through me, allowing the coil in my stomach to tighten quickly. “Yes, don’t stop,” I moaned, trying to keep my voice low. Even though my body burned for me to scream in ecstasy, there were four other men in my living room asleep.

He curled his fingers again, hitting my g-spot. A loud moan eludes me, I quickly bring my hand, free of his hair, up to my lips, biting the skin on the back, in hopes of muffling my noises.

Just as I thought I had it under control, the coil tightened to its max, and snapped. I felt my legs rush with heat and wetness. MY legs threatened to give out as Frankie kept going, prolonging the white, hot, orgasm ripping through me. He gripped my ass again, holding me up, he could feel my legs tremble around him.

Feeling a little too sensitive I slightly jerked away, slowing coming down from cloud nine. He took this as a sign to stop, he pulled back, placed a gentle kiss to my lips for the last time. He peered up at me, watching my relaxed face come back to reality, and stroking my thighs.

As my breathing calmed, I looked down, finding my handsome Frankie, staring at me with adoration in his eyes and a smile on his face. I picked my leg off his shoulder, leaned over and grabbed his face in my hands, tugging him up to meet me, embracing him in a passionate and strong kiss.

I could taste myself on his lips, his face wet with my slick, letting our lips glide smoothly against each other. He placed his hands back on my ass, walking back towards the bed, and me still pressed to him.

His knees backed into the edge of the frame, but he still stood tall. I broke the kiss, a seductive smile on my lips. I grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, showing my bare chest to him. I tossed the shirt away and stepped out of my soaked panties, kicking them into the abyss of the dark room.

Frankie watched me intently, never taking his eyes off my frame. I came close to him, my fingers playing with this shirt. In seconds he tore off his shirt and began to yank his shorts and underwear down. Once they pooled at his feet, I leaned into him, kissing his jaw, nipping at the skin while my hand found his naked member, hard and leaking. His breath caught in his throat when I lightly stroked him.

“I’m not go-going to last long baby, its been too long.” He choked out, struggling to keep his cool. I nodded, placing one last kiss to his neck. I stepped next to him, to get on the bed. I got on my knees, looking back to make sure he was watching me. As we made eye contact, I slowly bent forward, stretching my arms out straight in front of me. I guided my chest down and into the mattress, leaving my ass in the air and on display for him.

I relaxed my face into the covers, feeling him touching my thighs and ass, lightly pinching the skin as he traveled up the skin.

“Mierda (shit), all for me?” he questioned with a playful slap to my right cheek, luring a soft moan from me.

“Yes, all for you Frankie, always.” I responded, shaking my ass, hoping he would fuck me soon. The bed dipped behind my knees as he joined me. Thats when I felt his hard cock pressed to my cunt. He tapped himself on my clit, causing me to surge forward at the contact.

He chuckled, “Are you sure princesa?” as he ran his head through my folds, eliciting a moan from me.

“Yes, Jesus Frankie, just fuck me already.” I growled frustratedly.

At my command, he lined himself up at my entrance and pushed into me. The stretch was borderline painful, it had been months since I'd taken him, and he was already bigger than all my exes.

Once he bottomed out, he gripped my hip and snaked his free arm around me, pulling me up and flush against his chest. He began to kiss and suck my neck, slowly rocking into me. His hand stayed at the base of my neck, splayed across my collarbones, pressing me into him.

“Faster,” I whined, feeling him move quicker and more deliberately. His breath tickled my ear as he groaned, feeling me tightly wrapped around him.

As his pace quickened, I reached a hand behind me and braced it on his upper thigh, attempting to meet his hips. With a particularly aimed thrust, I moaned fairly loud, being consumed by the pleasure.

“Shh,” He spoke between grunts, “Unless you want the boys to know that I'm balls deep in you, filling you up with my cock.” He gave a hard thrust, never losing his pace. My free hand slapped my mouth, covering my cries.

Our hips sped up, meeting more passionately, with more meaning. With every thrust, all problems between us seemed to dissipate. I no longer cared about all things before tonight. All that mattered was him, us, and this moment. Being connected to him again never felt so good.

All that could be heard in the silence was the snap of his hips against mine, the small noises we let escape us, and the quiet creak of the bed below us. The moonlight illuminated our entangled bodies, the sweat gleaming in the night.

The coil in my stomach tightening again, the waves of pleasure threatening to spill over the edge. Frankie had to be getting close, his thrusts became more erratic. He reached his hand from hip, down to my clit, rubbing in tight circles, trying to bring me to the brink with him.

“Fuck you're so tight, w-where do you-” He questioned until I cut him off.

“Cum in me baby.” I moaned, feeling my orgasm take over, the waves of bliss crashing down, taking me with it. Whiteness blinded my vision as my body convulsed against his chest.

He thrusted a few more times before he let out a broken grunt, pumping his load into me, mixing our hot releases together, letting them seep out and down our legs.

I turned my head to the side, reaching back and grabbing the back of Frankie’s head, pulling him into a kiss as we calmed down. The smell of sex filling our senses. He slowly pulled out causing me to whine at the loss of him.

When we finally recovered, he got off the bed, taking me with him to the bathroom. He sat me on the sink, opened the cabinet underneath and grabbed a cloth, coming back up to wet it. Then he gently spread my thighs apart, cleaning up the remnants of the act. He then cleaned himself.

“You should go to the bathroom while I grab our pajamas.” He spoke softly, pressing a kiss to my lips and turned to scavenge for our clothes we had lost in the dark corners of my room.

I hopped off the counter and sat on the toilet. I went to the bathroom, but began to feel exhausted. My eyelids felt heavy, drooping over my eyes.

Frankie came back in, only dressed in his boxers, my clothes in his hand. “I know love, let’s get you dressed so we can sleep.” He whispered, helping me up and helped me get dressed. His face had an unreadable expression, what could he be thinking? All was forgotten when he picked me up bridal style and led us to my bed, he pulled the covers back and laid me down, tucking me in.

He wondered around the bed and got in behind me. He pulled me to his chest as sleep began to drag me under. His arm laid across my body and his hand splayed across my chest, feeling my heartbeat. Thats all I could process as I fell more deeply into slumber.

It may have been a dream but I felt him lean over, kiss my temple and whisper “I’m sorry for everything.” And everything went peacefully dark.

I couldn't tell how long I was asleep until someone began to shake me. “Chip, get up, it’s time to leave.” I groaned, not wanting to get out of the comfort of my bed and the comfort of Frankie next to me, or so I thought.

My eyes snapped open to find Ben crouched next to the bed, face to face with me. I jolted up with surprise, quickly looking around to find Frankie, only to be disappointed.

“Woah woah! Calm down, it’s Benny.” The man child looked frightened.

I sighed, maybe it was a good thing Fish wasn’t in here, it could make a lot of questions amongst the team arise. But when did he leave?

“Oh sorry Ben, I-I was sleeping too hard,” I lied.

“It seems so,” he chuckled “Breakfast is ready, everyone is up and ready.” He explained. I nodded and he left, allowing me privacy to change. I quickly threw on my cargo pants and shirt, rushing to grab my packed bags. I brushed my teeth and hair in a hurry. I headed straight past everyone in the kitchen, out the door to throw my things in the truck.

When I came back in, everyone was staring at me. But I only made eye contact with one of them, Frankie. And the look on his face pained me, his expression was full of regret.

TAGLIST

@tanyaherondale

@winter-fox-queen

@supernaturalgirl

@actual-spawn-of-satan

@hnt-escape

@toomanystoriessolittletime

*if your user has a strike through, it wouldn’t let me tag you*

#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales angst #frankie morales smut #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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luvdsc · 5 years ago

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let’s play pretend.

what if we’re in love? haha, just kidding... unless?

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + college au word count :: 1,552 words warnings :: none playlist :: talk too much (coin) ⋆ face (woosung) ⋆ pretend (bad suns) ⋆ la belle femme (hunny) ⋆ love you like crazy (taeyeon) author’s note :: best f2l is the ultimate trope sorry i don’t make the rules

Persistent fratboys at parties are the absolute worst. Already early into the night, you find yourself unable to shake off the latest leech in all his snapback and rayban glory. Why is it that they never back off until you’re forced to lie about a significant other? If you’re lucky, they’ll stop there. It’s quite stupid how they’ll let you go only if you suddenly have a boyfriend, rather than simply understanding that you aren’t interested. Perhaps, they’re too scared to confront how undesirable they actually are.

Literally, nobody wants someone who owns salmon shorts and more button up shirts with palm trees than necessary. Never mind the fact that you’ve seen this guy participate in more forties at four than actually attend his classes sober if he even makes it to your shared A.I. ethics lecture at eight in the morning. And he’s wearing those god awful sperry boat shoes with no socks. Inwardly, you shiver.

Eyes flitting around, you desperately try to see if you can find any one of your friends nearby who can take you out of your misery, but Yeji and Yerim are already mixed in the drunken dancing crowd, and you can’t find Donghyuck or Jeno anywhere. Renjun had been standing with you prior, but he already went home a few minutes ago because he had midterms early tomorrow morning. However, perhaps Lady Luck understands your woes because you spot your best friend coming out of the kitchen.

You quickly grab his arm, pulling Jaemin over. “Sorry, I’m here with him already.”

“This is your boyfriend?” the guy asks skeptically, unabashedly staring at your friend in question.

“Yep. Yes, that’s him. My boyfriend. Love of my life. My other half. His name is Jaemin.”

Jaemin turns to look at you, somewhat confused. You try to send some sort of telepathic message to him, and to your relief, it seems that he understands when you shoot him a look of mixed panic and desperation.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m the boyfriend. The super significant other.” He reconfirms your answer and returns the male’s stare, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Great. Nothing says “I love you” more than a common hand signal found on YouTube videos. Maybe you should tell fratboy to hit the subscribe button, too. Subscribe to see more daily mishaps in the life of Y/N and watch as she digs an even deeper hole for herself.

The boy scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest, as he shakes his head in disbelief. You are temporarily distracted, almost impressed even, at how his styled hair doesn’t even move. You really need to know where he gets his hair products.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.”

Slipping his arm around your waist smoothly, Jaemin tugs you closer, and you freeze, pressed up snugly against his side. You really didn’t think this one through. Swallowing hard, you force your body to relax. It’s no big deal, it’s not like you’ve been harboring a crush on your best friend for months and have been trying to get over him for the sake of friendship.

“I don’t know what to tell you, but I’ve been in love with her ever since she fell asleep on me in our macroeconomics class.”

You smile sheepishly as you remember your first meeting, pretending that his words didn’t affect your heart as much as it actually did whilst simultaneously thanking the stars that he was always a quick thinker. His lips quirk up in the corners into that sweet smile you always adore before he presses a tender kiss to your temple that has you going dizzy. Your cheeks warm up as you duck your head, attempting to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“She had on this pale blue fluffy sweater, and she reminded me of a cute baby blue jay. She had a green notebook decorated with corgi stickers and always took really neat notes with this pen that had a flower chain attached to the top and had the prettiest handwriting. I remember thinking to myself, I better take good notes even though I never took notes before, just so I could give them to her as an excuse to talk to her afterwards.”

He absentmindedly draws circles on your hip, making you even more flustered not only from his actions, but also shocked that he remembers all of that even down to the outfit you were wearing. Heck, you didn’t even remember what you wore that day. He gazes at you, smiling fondly, and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes look so sincere, sparkling under the harsh strobe lights, and if you didn’t know any better, you really thought he may have loved you back. A dull ache starts to form in your chest at that silly daydream. “She looked really cute, leaning against my shoulder like that, and even her snoring was adorable.”

You gasp at that, looking at him indignantly. “I don’t snore!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, angel. Forgive me?”

He pauses and leans down, his lips millimeters away from yours, before hesitating and lingering there, so close yet so far away. Your heart nearly skips a beat from how naturally the sweet term of endearment slips from his lips and from the close proximity between you and him. From the corner of your eye, you can still see that fratboy standing there. You had almost forgotten he even existed: the sole, annoying cause of your current predicament. To seal the deal and perhaps for a little bit of a selfish reason, you lean forward, closing the distance and grazing your lips against his.

Your hands are on his chest, nervously tugging on the lapels of his jacket, and his are placed on your waist, gently tugging you impossibly closer. You’re quite certain Jaemin can feel how fast your heart is beating with how tight your bodies are now pressed together, but that’s the least of your worries right now. The only thoughts that pop up in your mind is that one, his lips are slightly chapped, yet incredibly soft; two, he’s a very good kisser; and three, mission: “how to get over having a crush on your best friend” is a complete and utter failure.

When you reluctantly pull away from him, his nose nudges yours softly, and your eyes flutter open. He is looking at you with parted lips, hazy eyes, and an indiscernible gaze that causes you to feel a whole colony of butterflies in your stomach. Any words that had come to mind have now flown out the window, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the radiant boy in front of you.

“Maybe we should do that again. Just in case, you know? To really send a message to that douche,” he mutters quietly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. You give him an almost imperceptible nod, relenting to your heart this time instead of your mind.

It feels as if it’s simply the two of you standing there, the rest of your surroundings fading away and the music slowing down in the background. You look up at him from under your lashes, eyes fluttering close once more. Jaemin presses his mouth against yours firmly this time, with certainty, almost as if he meant it, as if his lips are made solely for kissing yours. And in that moment, you truly believe that he’s in love with you.

You are dazed, absolutely starstruck, until the two of you break apart, until you remember why this all came to be, and your heart comes crashing back to earth. Those seven minutes in heaven were utterly heavenly in your little bubble of make-believe universe with only you and him. You almost don’t want to open your eyes, but you do, and you find yourself staring back at him.

And just as you’ve always known, Jaemin looks absolutely breath taking, impossibly ethereal, and one hundred percent devastatingly heart wrenching: a modern day Adonis in the flesh. He gives you a shy smile, pretty eyes glimmering as if he stole from the night sky himself. You’re so close that you can count every single long dark lash framing his starry eyes and feel the warmth radiating from his blushing cheeks. His lips are red and slightly swollen, and you feel as if you had just ruined a masterpiece from the Louvre.

Your cherry lip gloss has been smudged onto his lips, and you reach out to carefully wipe it off. He gently catches your hand when you move it away and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and you admire the way your hand fits perfectly in his for a few stolen moments until the dream is shattered once more and you’re pulled back to reality.

“Thanks, Jaemin. He’s gone now, so you don’t have to pretend to be in love with me anymore,” you mumble softly, slowly pulling your hand away and giving him an apologetic smile.

He reaches out to gently brush his finger tips against the apples of your cheeks before delicately tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. When you finally dare to meet his eyes, Jaemin is gazing at you with the most tender expression imaginable.

“Who says I was pretending?”

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keullaesigbeogeo · 4 years ago

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NCT 127 Reaction: When You Want A Kiss

Lee Taeyong:

“Taeyongie~” I whined while looking at him and puckering my lips. He just laughed before shaking his head.

“Not now baby, you’re in class.” He walked up behind me and started massaging my shoulders. I leaned back and puckered my lips again.

“Please?” I asked with puppy eyes.

He smiled before kissing me on my head. “There you go. Better?”

I whined before pointing at my lips, “I won’t be better until you kiss me here.” I said sadly. Taeyong sighed before bending down and pecking me on the lips.

“That’s all you’re getting until your class is over.” He started while sitting down next to me, opening his book.

“But-“

“Baby, your teachers talking, listen to her.” He patted my head before kissing my cheek, continuing to read his book.

Kim Jungwoo:

“Jungi ~ can I have a kiss?” I asked while staring at him. He nodded before bringing his lips down towards my head.

“There you go.” I shook my head.

“I want a proper kiss.” He nodded before kissing me on my cheek.

“Better?” He asked while staring at me.

I gave him a cute glare. “I want one on my lips.” I spoke bravely. He beamed before bringing our faces together and pecking my lips and pulling away. I was about to complain again before he moved closer and gave me a eager kiss, making me move closer. I smiled while pulling away.

“Are you happy now, baby?” Jungwoo asked as he looked at me. I nodded my head.

“More than happy.”

Natamoto Yuta:

I watched as Yuta glared at everyone beside him. Damn, he looked hot. I stared for sometime before I realized that he was staring back. Shit. I quickly looked away, but not before I saw a smirk fall onto his face. I stood up and walked towards our room, sitting on the bed. Dang, now I’m horny… I laid down and started rolling left and right, wanting something to do. I heard the door open, making me look at the door. “Hi baby.” I said while staring at Yuta.

Yuta said nothing as he laid down next to me on the bed and pulled me onto him. “I saw what you did there baby.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean…” He seemed to know what I wanted, because he bent down and pecked my lips, giving me a long, beautiful kiss.

“Is that better baby?” He asked moving positions so that I was straddling him. I nodded my head. He studied me for some time before speaking.

“But I still want more.” He said before flipping us over, jumping onto me.

Dong Si Cheng (WinWin):

I cooed at the sight in front of me. WinWin, Yuta, and Taeil were all asleep on each other. So adorable! I quickly snapped a photo before putting my phone away and tapping WinWin awake. He looked at me with sleepy eyes before grabbing the person closest to him (which happened to be Yuta) and started hugging him tightly. I glared at where they were touching. I want a hug too… and a kiss. I tapped WinWin again, making sure he woke up this time before pulling him towards our bedroom. By the time we made it there. He was fully awake. He sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him, but I shook my head no. “Not until I get a kiss.” I said while acting like a baby.

He let out a loud laugh before pulling me down to kiss me. “Is my little baby jealous?”

I shook my head. “No, you were looking cute and all, but you were holding Yuta too tightly.” I whined. He smiled before laying down, pulling me with him.

“Then I’ll hold you like I held him. But you’re safe in my arms.”

Moon Taeil:

I pecked Taeil on the lips, wanting him to kiss me back. He didn’t. He continued reading over their new song lyrics. I groaned, “Taeil, you’ve been looking at that for over an hour but haven’t even bothered practicing it!”

He sighed, “I know, it’s because you keep on-” I pecked him on the lips again.

“I won’t stop until you give me a kiss.” He smiled before putting out lips together and quickly pulling back.

“Are you good now?” I shook my head.

“I want a full out kiss.” I said confidently. He stared at me nervous, for sometime before sweetly lifting my head up and kissing me. His hands went around my back and mine around his neck. We both pulled back at the same time before I rested my bp head on his shoulder.

“That was much better.” I whispered. I heard him chuckle before he hugged me and started softly singing the lyrics, luring me to sleep.

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan):

I started jumping around, happy to see Y/N. “Hello, my beautiful butterfly!” I said while kissing her nose and eyes. She giggled before pointing at her lips.

“What about here?” She asked while lookin at me with doe eyes.

I stared at her for sometime before sighing at her cuteness and bringing her closer. “You didn’t have to ask twice my little koala.” I brought my lips down towards her, sealing them together.

“I love you.” I heard her whisper through our bond. I smiled before replying.

“I love you too.”

Jeong Jaehyun:

I pucker my lips towards Jaehyun, “Can I have a kiss?” I asked cutely, trying to make him give me one.

He shook his head. “I’m trying to learn my lines, maybe a little later.” I slouched down. I had seen this coming. I stood up before getting closer to his face and whispering.

“Let’s play a game. The person who can kiss the other person the longest gets whatever they want.” This got his attention. He looked towards me before pouncing on me and giving me a big kiss.

“There’s no way I’m going to let you win then.” He said while kissing me again and again. I started giggling while kissing him back. I knew it would work.

Mark Lee:

My eyes started rolling my themselves during the interview, irritating me. I really need to get rid of that habit… “Thank you guys for coming, I really appreciate it.” I heard the interviewer say before we left. I went straight towards Y/N, wanting to see her. I walked into our room to see her sulking on the side of the bed.

“Hey kiddo, what’s wrong?” I asked, worried about her. She looked up at me before I saw the tears in her eyes.

“You left without telling me…” She whined. I sighed before sitting down on the bed and bringing her into my lap.

“Baby, don’t cry over such a silly thing like that. Cheer up!” I whispered, trying to make her happier. She nodded before sniffing and looking at me.

“Can I have a kiss?” She asked while looking at me with her cute eyes and puffy cheeks. I nodded my head.

“Sure baby.” I bent down and kissed her, letting her know that I loved her.

Kim Dongyoung (Doyoung):

I knocked ferociously on Y/N’s door. “Baby, come on out of your room…” I pleaded, wanting to see her.

“No! Now you know how I feel when you’re always in your dorm!” She yelled through the door.

My face morphed into one of sadness. “Baby, please come out…” I asked again, knocking harder. It took some time, but she finally came out of the room, sulking. She looked me in the eyes before glaring at me.

“I won’t forgive you until I get a kiss.” She said suddenly. I smiled before bending down and pulling her towards me lovingly kissing her lips, enjoying myself to the fullest.

“Do you forgive me now baby?” I inquired before touching my forehead to hers.

She smiled, “Of course.”

John Jun Suh (Johnny):

I heard Johnny coming, so I quickly ran towards the steps and sat down. I was right about what would happen. He tripped right over me, almost falling over. “Yah, Y/N, why are you sitting on the floor like that? I almost tripped over you!” He exclaimed in surprise.

“I want a kiss…” I whispered.

“Aish, Y/N, you’re going to have to speak louder than that for me to hear you.

“I want a kiss.” I said a little louder this time.

“I still can’t hear you.”

I took a deep breath before looking up into his eyes. I pulled out my inner strength and brought my doe eyes out, staring at him cutely before saying it again. “I want a kiss.”

He looked at me before immediately scooping me up. “Ahhhh, you’re so cute!” He looked happy and smiled for a minute before that grin turned into a smirk. “Now what should I do with this cutie…” He thought out loud as he walked towards the bedroom.

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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love is in the air | bakugou k.

— Different worlds, different stories, different beginnings. It didn’t matter what universe you were in because there was one consistency in these worlds: you and Bakugou were always in love. Was it just a coincidence that love is in the air whenever the two of you were involved? No, it was destiny. —

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: cursing (all), fluff (all), alcohol consumption (story 3)

word count: 3,505

a/n: so this is for my springtime anon for the bnhaclaimedmysoul event!!!! this was written for @brattyquirks !!!! anyways, I couldn’t decide what to write you sab, so I decided to hell with it and gave you four little short stories based off your favorite cliches!!!! I hope you enjoy 🌺

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SPIN THE BOTTLE

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“If you don’t spin the bottle, we’re going to make you kiss Mineta!”

“You can’t make me do shit, raccoon eyes! This’s a fucking brats game anyways, why the hell am I going to play?!”

Your eyes shone with ever-loving glee at the sight of Bakugou, gritting his teeth with his lip pulled up into a snarl. His eyes were focused on Mina, who was waving the bottle in her hand, her face in a full grin while she stared on the peeved ash blond man.

“Because its a staple to a teenager’s life, and apparently no ones played yet!”

“It’s not going to be something I fucking play!”

It often amused you that Mina was one of the only people in the class who wasn’t afraid to play chicken with Bakugou, even more hilarious being that she won the majority of the time.

“Midoriya and Todoroki already took their chances at spinning it once,” Mina sighed, her arms picking up into a shrug while she shook her head. You watched in quiet glee in the way her eyes slowly opened, like some predator corning in on her prey. “But hey, I guess that means you’re not—”

“Give me the fucking bottle!”

And she had won.

Folding your arms, you watched Bakugou break into the circle of students, slamming the glass bottle onto the floor and turning it as quickly as he could, the words “die” announced to the class. You took in the way that his face was set into a frown, the corners of his mouth cemented into this permanent scowl. But you knew that it was for show, even you knew Bakugou better after three years of being his classmate, his eyes always told a different story.

The two of you were pretty close for what could be considered relationships for Bakugou. While you weren’t apart of his core group of friends, the two of you held mutual respect and trust for each other that transcended that of daily interaction. The bottle spun for what seemed like ages, and you watched in hopefulness that it would land on someone good.

Slowly the lip of the bottle landed on Shoji, and Bakugou raged that it wasn’t fair.

Much to Bakugou’s unamusement, to Shoji’s prayers that he wouldn’t be killed, and to the rest of your classmates tear-jerking howling laughter they kissed.

“I’m fucking out of here!” Bakugou screamed, throwing himself to his feet, ready to retreat to his room with the hours of night looming in. “Get this shitty game away from me, I never want to play—”

“You can’t leave yet!” Mina cried out, grabbing his wrist before he could escape the circle, “Y/n-chan is the last one to go, and you have to watch!”

“I don’t fucking care if it was All Mights damn turn, I’m not staying!”

“Come on, Bakugou, it’s not like it’ll take more than ten seconds!” you chide, your nose wrinkling at him in your mock disgust. “What’s the worst that’ll happen? I get to kiss your best friend?”

Bakugou’s nostrils flare, a visible indicator that he took in your words as a challenge of sorts and would follow through with staying. So with a grin, you grabbed the bottle and spun it.

You didn’t really care about who it landed on; after all, most of your classmates had already had strange matchups, the worst being a kiss from Kaminari and Mineta. As long as you didn’t land on Mineta, you’d call that a win. The bottle stilled, and you looked down to where it was pointing.

Bakugou.

His eyes widened, pupils were blown, and his jaw to the floor.

“HELL NO, I JUST KISSED OCTOPUS LIKE HELL I’M GOING TWICE!”

“Oh my god, you big baby,” you laugh, standing up. You reach Bakugou, who looks seconds from fighting, moments from running, yet allowed you to approach him regardless. What a rule-abiding nerd he could be.

“Pucker up,” you tease and seal your lips over his while your classmates scream.

After you pulled away, you hated to admit that your heart hammered in your ears, months of denial over your feelings gone up in flames while he stares at you in silence. Your classmates begin to clean up; no one quite aware of how you were both just staring. But when Mina’s arm is thrown around your shoulders, your attention is stolen, and you walk off, ready to help out.

In twenty minutes, you make it back to your room, your lips still tingling in their tiny explosions of the past feeling of his smooth lips against yours. A wistful sigh escaped your lips, you knew better than to expect anything from King Explosion Murder himself.

A knock on the door startled you. Having been caught up in thought, the noise made you curse under your breath. Walking to the door, you opened it up, your eyes widening when you saw Bakugou there, his eyebrows knit, lips pursed.

“You okay, Bakugou?” you asked, concerned for your friend.

He finally meets your gaze, and his stare is intense. Vermillion eyes hold yours without a single waiver in them; it’s intense, almost too intense to the point where you want to look away. But you don’t, you can’t look away. A harsh expel of air escapes his nose, and you’re useless to the way that he surges forward, hands grasping your cheeks and lips crashing against yours.

There’s nothing to say to this, but you can attest to the fact that your hands grabbed his biceps, your lips moving passionately with his until your bedroom door closed behind him.

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BEST FRIENDS BEING IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER

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Days at the lake were something you earnestly enjoyed. The gentle feeling of spring in the air, the sun warm against your skin, and the fresh green plants emerging from the once dead fields. It was perfect, almost tranquil if you were quiet enough.

But if there was anything to know about you and your best friend Bakugou Katsuki, it was that tranquility was something that happened once in a lifetime, and that moment was not now.

“Running away is useless!” Bakugou roared from a distance.

The cold sand flung from your feet while you ran as fast as you possibly could, the oxygen in your veins feeling like fire as you attempted to both run away and laugh at the predicament he was in.

What had started as a fun day at the lake that had finally thawed over from winter winds, turned into something stupidly competitive. You wouldn’t say you were a sore loser because you didn’t lose, but in this case where Bakugou had very obviously beaten you in rock skipping contest because he applied his quirk after you went without using your own. So in your fuming loss, you used your quirk to dump water all over his hair, leaving his hair and shoulder soaked.

His reaction to this was almost feline-like, his back arching, face set in an uproarious hiss while you howled with laughter, already running away. It took him time to respond to your act of war, but with him running like hell was at his heels, it was only a matter of time before he caught up to you.

You screamed for forgiveness, trying with everything you had to escape from his tight and torturous grasp, but you were losing.

“This is what you get for soaking me with water!” Bakugou exclaims, tossing you into the ice-cold water, your shocked and defeated scream echoing across the water until it was drowned out by you going under.

“You’re a dick!” you scream when you reemerge from under the water, fake tears pouring from your eyes, the cold water clinging, and stabbing into your body that was now exposed to the sweet air.

Bakugou looks ashamed right away, and you were sure that he hadn’t expected to have flung you so far into the water, or for you to not land on your feet. “Shit, I’m so — hEY!!!”

With your hands on his wrist, you threw him into the water, his angry screams erupting across the land the moment he reemerged from the lake. So there the two of you stood, thigh-deep into the lake, both soaked to the bone. Hands gripping each other, a feeble attempt at wrestling each other. His wet hair was slick to his forehead, the shine on his face from the water, and his heated words only inciting a fire within you that made you forget that you too were cold.

“You’re the worst!” you yell, trying to shove him forward with your interlaced fingers. “A tiny dildo is what you are!”

“A fucking dildo?! Why the ever-loving fuck would I be—?!”

“Cuz, you’re fake like plastic!!!”

“You’re an idiot, fucking dumbass nerd!”

“Oh yeah, well, you like this dumbass nerd!”

“And what if I do?!”

There was a silence that overcame the both of you, his cheeks simmering to the same degree as yours. In this silence, you weren’t sure what to say, and in a moment where you were unsure of the warmth being from your elation of his words or from your cold body hyperventilating from the cold water, you spoke.

“Do something about it then.”

There was no saying as to how this transpired, honestly it was one of the weakest fake arguments you’ve ever had with Bakugou, but with the rebirth of spring, there must have been something in the air to make his lips come crashing against yours. A wild and powerful force that ignited sparks and explosions within you, and a promise for more between both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes wide and wild, you took in Bakugou’s soft and heavy-lidded eyes and watched as his lips perked into a pleasant smile.

“Took you long enough, dumbass…”

“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT, BAKUGOU KATSUKI?!”

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ACCIDENTAL KISS

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The world was blurry while you brought your hand to your mouth. But where you had been expecting a bottle of whatever alcohol you had been drinking, you were met with nothing but your warm hand.

“Where’s my drink?! Oh no, did I drop… did I drop it?! Bakugou is going to kill me!”

Your typical cheerful and chaotic energy while being drunk had become sad and chaotic energy at the realization that you couldn’t find your drink that you knew you had. And even more so at the thought of the man you had a crush on hating on you for dropping it on the floor.

“What the hell are you wailing about, I have your drink right here, idiot.”

You whip to the side and see that Bakugou is the person holding your hand, guiding you back to your apartment.

“Katsuki, you’re taking me back to my dorm?” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes at the thought of how kind your crush was being to you. “You didn’t have to do this!”

“Yeah, well, your drunk ass was not walking back home alone, especially not this late at night when weirdos and perverts can be out,” he justified, making sure you avoided the bush when you stumbled against a bump on the floor.

“I’m drunk, huh,” you giggle, pressing into his side, your body warm with the bitter liquid coursing through your veins. “That’s pretty crazy because I distinctly remember only taking… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nineeeeeee shots! That’s not even that much!”

“Nine shots?! I’m going to kill that drunk idiot when I get back!” Bakugou snarls his arm fastening around your waist when you climb up the stairs, something you don’t understand why he does considering, all in all, you were walking just fine.

“Katsuki, can I confess something to ya?” you hum against his warm shoulder, breathing in his caramel scent with a happy sigh.

“Not if you wouldn’t admit it when you’re sober.”

“Well, that’s no fun to drunken confession and besides!” you slur, slamming your hand against his chest. “I don’t ever make sense.”

“Well, that much is true,” Bakugou sighs, grabbing your keys and opening your apartment door. “Come on, get in.”

You comply without a fight, skipping into your apartment with a stretch.

“Now, now, you get back home and text me when you get back, no funny business young man!” you exclaim, thrusting a finger into his chest, your lips pulled into a serious pout.

“Ya fucking right dumbass, I’m getting your ass into bed before I leave,” Bakugou grunt turning you towards your bathroom to assist you in getting ready for bed.

Within the next thirty minutes, you nearly succeed in getting Bakugou to rip his hair from his scalp. From first refusing to pee unless he was holding your hand, then forbidding to brush your teeth until he hugged you first. Of course, then it was the fact that you walked out butt naked after claiming you didn’t care if he saw you naked, and that you hated the PJs he chose for you. And how he had to chase you around the apartment to get you into bed.

But finally, Bakugou squatted at the edge of your bed, his face close to yours while you took long blinks, sleep catching up to you quickly.

“Goodnight, pain in my ass,” Bakugou says to your nodding off form.

“Thank you for always taking care of me,” you whimper, your hand stretching out to touch his face, the world slowly spinning. “You might act like a bad boy, but it’s okay, I can handle it for moments like this.”

“I don’t know what you’re — mmph!”

Your lips were pressed against his, a kiss that tasted faintly of alcohol on his own lips and the mint of your toothpaste.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips before pulling away, sleep consuming you before Bakugou could speak.

When you woke up the next morning, your body hangover-free, you were shocked and scared to see Bakugou sitting on your chair fast asleep. It wasn’t until he woke up did you genuinely feel fear crawl and bite you in the throat when he spoke up after staring at you for a minute straight.

“So, about last night.”

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FAKE DATING

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“I can’t believe I got stuck with you,” Bakugou grits while the both of you walk around the mall, your fingers dancing along your chin while you check out the clothes in the window.

“Why’s that? Is it because I make your hands sweat, heart skip beats, and make you stammer more than anyone else in the world?” you tease your focus entirely on the outfit in the window, trying to imagine how it would look like on your body instead of the mannequin.

“You know damn well that’s not the fucking case!”

Laughing, you nodded, turning to look at Bakugou with a grin, “Well, I’m sorry you drew the short end of the stick!”

What had started off as a class after school field trip had become ‘where the fuck is everyone?’

It maybe was your fault for dragging Bakugou into the nearest store because you saw the stupidest skull shirt you wanted him to buy and ended up with the two of you coming out of said store, the black skull shirt folded neatly in a bag that Bakugou held, and your classmates were gone. Bakugou had yelled at you for five minutes while you apologized profusely for separating the two of you from the group.

A quick text from Kirishima had stated that everyone went their own ways anyway, but that meet up time at the food court would be at 5:30.

“How do you think that would look on me?” you asked, pointing to the white spring outfit in the window. You had needed more outfits, years of not having anything cute had made you want to try something new with the new spring season.

“Fucking weird,” was Bakugou’s automatic response despite not looking at the outfit.

“Come on, brat, look at it first!”

“Who the hell are you calling brat?” Bakugou grumbled but looked at the white outfit in the window. He was quiet for some time, almost too quiet for how you knew Bakugou was. He looked over at you, his face set seriously, and he sighed. “It would look great on you.”

You smiled widely and nodded, “Okay!”

It took ten minutes for you to find the outfit in your size, to affirm it was a good fit, to buy it, and then to leave the store. Bakugou took the green cream bag from your hand, adding it to the other bags he had been holding for the two of you, and you were grateful.

Grabbing his elbow, you were ready to drag him off to a store he would like better, but you froze when you saw a familiar pair of eyes in the distance.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

It had been a year relationship that started off beautifully and ended disastrously. While you wished you could have concluded that relationship on amicable terms, it ended on something closer to, “I hate you,” and “don’t ever talk to me again,” and “I can find someone better than you any day,” and finally, “you couldn’t find someone to like you back.”

To say the least, you still hadn’t found anyone knew, and your arm firmly locked around Bakugou’s arm, your body stiffening slightly.

Bakugou felt it.

“What the fucks wrong with you?” he asked, his eyebrows knit in confusion, and you looked up at him, your eyes relaying to him everything.

“I see my ex, and I said I would be with someone the next time I saw him,” you whisper, your feet feeling cemented onto the floor as your ex drew nearer and nearer.

Bakugou’s lips twitched, his nose scrunching in his premeditative way of know just what you were going to ask.

“You fucking owe me,” he hissed under his breath, his hand moving to rest on your hip, keeping you close as only lovers do.

“Thank you,” you whispered in graciousness, your lips pecking his cheek in a display of affection.

“Y/n!” your ex called, and you look at him, he was standing in front of you, a confident smile on his face. “Long time no see, how have you been?”

“Good,” you answer with a tight smile. “You?”

“Much better now, but I gotta say I do miss you a lot.”

Your face wrinkles in astounded horror, the slightest bit of disgust and disbelief while he seems to ignore Bakugou all together.

“Listen, I know I said a lot of shitty things to you awhile back, but I’m so sorry!” he says, his face nor tone showing regret. “I know you’re not seeing anyone right now, so if you want to have an amazing boyfriend again, I’ll consider taking you back!”

“Fucking horse mouth,” Bakugou snapped, his teeth gritting together while he glared at your ex, his finger digging into your side. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Hm?” he alliterated, his eyes lazily falling onto Bakugou, “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

“Yeah, and fucking back off before I shove my fist down your throat, asshole,” Bakugou threatened, his eyes squinting, his shoulders stiff.

“And why should I?” he asked, his lips pulled into a taunt. “Even if you’re dating, y/n-chan, it’s not like you’re any better than me, right Bakugou Katsuki? Y/n is grown, and I’m obviously the more mature one of…” he trailed off.

Why exactly?

Well, it seemed both you and Bakugou had the same exact idea. Your fingers thread through the thick hair at the nape of his neck. His fingers slipping under your shirt to rest against your warm back and your lips meeting in a passionate affair. His lips were tantalizing against yours, viciously warm, effortlessly smooth while your mouths moved in synch. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids, electricity emitting through your joined lips while they moved impassioned for each other.

His hold was tight, and your head tilted with your tongue, obviously coming to sweep at his bottom tongue.

“Do you have any shame?!” a voice broke from your left, and you saw an elder staring at the two of you with obvious shock at the intense PDA the two of you had just shared.

You couldn’t even find the words to apologize, your mind utterly consumed with the need to have Bakugou’s mouth pressed against yours once again. The both of you were blissfully unaware of the fact that your ex had since scurried away the moment the kissing took a sensual turn.

“Um,” Bakugou seemed to be at a loss too, and you studied his face that seemed to be going through a million more emotions than he was used to. “Was that—?”

“If you want,” you tease, bringing your lips once more to the corner of his mouth before grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha spring time

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euphoricsunflowers · 4 years ago

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queen’s whore — lee hoseok/wonho

a/n: sorry to anyone named adrian, i just needed a name lol

a/n: hi welcome back to me getting so into a concept and writing out a complex story instead of just writing something sexual for this nsfw blog 😔✌️ i promise the next one will actually be horny

word count: 3.1k

content: only the last section is nsfw and it’s pretty soft, peasant!wonho, queen!fem!reader, kiki and kyun are in this too and honestly kyun in this is my icon, wonho is not treated well by the people so don’t read if that’s uncomfortable for you, like he mentions being called a whore but nobody directly says it to him in what’s written, riding le dick, aftercare i guess??? it’s vv soft at the end, the king is a sexist dick and i literally just looked up royal baby names and his is what came up so sorry to anyone named adrian

summary: hoseok, your secret lover, asks to become your consort so he’s not just seen as some peasant trying to get power by having an affair with the queen. kihyun, a royal advisor, and changkyun, a war strategist, help you do so against a king who is a really, really big asshole.

“oh my darling hoseok, why are you here so suddenly?” you mumble, allowing him into your chambers despite the absurd time. he trudges in, seemingly something disturbing his peace of mind, settling down on the bed, lying back with a miserable expression on his face that haunts your heart. it makes you want to do nothing more than absolve him of all this pain.

his eyes flutter close as he breathes in, taking in your words as if they are the only comfort he has left in the world, “i love you, you know.”

his bluntness startles you, “i do know, hoseok, i love you too.”

“no you do not understand, i really, really love you, i—” he stops, breaking down suddenly. Your heart shatters when he chuckles cathartically, covering his face with his arm out of embarrassment as he cries, “why do they have to say such cruel words? they say i’m fucking the queen so surely i must be trying to take advantage of her status or raise mine, but i am really not! i’m not just your whore!” he shouts, before looking over at you and remembering the situation. he, a common peasant, just cursed in front of you, the queen. Even if you did love him, he so desperately wished to go back and stop himself, “I apologize, my queen, for my words, i— please forgive me for tonight.”

“dear, please do not apologize tonight. you have every reason to be acting irrational right now,” you reach out to grab his hand, and he holds back with every last ounce of strength in his body, “the things people have said about you since the beginning of rumors concerning our… affair, have been vile and invasive. I wish that I could stop them, but I can only do so much without confirming them more. we both know my husband would not appreciate that.”

your husband. the king. not an ounce of love was shared between you two, and yet, even though he expected you to be fine with his constant affairs with other women, he would be livid if he knew you had a lover of your own. for that reason, the rumors concerning hoseok never made it to the king, because the people knew you would probably be in for hell. you were definitely the more well liked out of the two, and that meant that hoseok, a little nobody from a small fishing village in the kingdom, got the brunt of it, “does his opinion have… to matter so much?”

“hoseok...” you murmur with a warning tone, “sweetheart, i… i do not think…. it’s wise to talk about my husband in such a way—”

“you don’t love him! you sleep in separate rooms for god’s sake!” he shouts in a hushed tone, “make me your consort. i am not asking for political power, but i am sick of being called a whore.”

“and you expect me to take the brunt of my husband’s anger?”

“my queen, and more importantly, my love, please don’t imply such a thing. you have the support of the people, and many of your husband’s advisors would love to see him—” he says, and you place a finger over his lips.

“you speak far too loudly for someone trying to convince me to commit a crime.”

“i never said you had to kill him.”

“you were going to.”

“no i was not... because…” he takes a breath in, “i know you think he’ll have your head, but with the way the kingdom views you, and especially how the people view him, he would be a fool to lay a finger on you.”

silence fills the room, and hoseok wants to take it all back. it’s always felt like every time he opened his mouth to speak, nothing good would come of it. he sits up, but stays on the bed as you look away from him, “hoseok…”

he doesn’t answer when you call out his name, even though he knows he should. frankly, he should be on his knees in your presence, but in this room only he felt like you could be equals; he’s once again reminded that you are not, “my queen, i know what i’m asking of you is far too much, i know i’m overstepping and asking you to step into deadly dangerous territory, but… i’m so tired of being viewed like i’m using you, and i’m tired of the things they call me. i’m tired of being nothing to you outside these walls.”

“my dear,” you breathe, speechless at his words. it would be fatal to make one wrong move, but… would it be worth it?

“i’m not going to attempt to guilt trip you, you deserve better than that. if you don’t feel safe doing this, or just simply don’t wish to, i will accept that. and my love will be unwavering no matter what,” he raises your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, falling to his knees, and resting his forehead against your thigh, “just, please think about me too when you make that decision.”

—

“kihyun,” you murmur, and he perks up hearing your voice as you reach out your hand for him to take, “come here, please. i require you for something.”

“of course, your highness,” he nods softly, letting you lead him to somewhere more quiet. kihyun was a royal advisor, but he was also a good friend to have on your side. he was too smart for you to allow to become an enemy, but he had a good heart. it didn’t take much effort from your husband to get kihyun to… not be fond of him, to put it mildly, “what is the matter?”

“i… i have a favor to ask,” you gulp, the full weight of what you were going to do hitting you hard in that moment, but you push through it. hoseok needed this, “have you heard the rumors about me?”

he bites his lip, but nods, “i— yes, your highness. my lips are sealed if you wish to speak about them.”

“they… are true. and i wish to make him my consort, but…”

“you’re worried about the king’s reaction to knowing you have… a lover,” he finishes the thought for you, and you’re both left to silence, until he speaks up with a chuckle, “forgive me, but you’re in a rough situation, my queen.”

“it’s… it’s not me who’s had to take the worst of it,” you shake your head, “i need to do this, kihyun.”

“i know you do. so tell me what you need me to be specifically, and i will do my best to be exactly that—” kihyun says, before getting interrupted.

“the king must understand the backlash he’ll get from punishing the queen, right?” you hear a voice say, cutting kihyun off.

your heart stops.

it’s all over isn’t it? the king found out about it before you even got the chance to try. you failed hoseok.

“i could attempt to help?” the voice adds on. you turn to see the face that the voice belongs to, and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“changkyun,” you whisper, a hand over your heart, “you scared me.” *changkyun*. he was a war strategist that worked very closely with your father and now your husband, despite being a rather young strategist when your father was still on the throne. though he runs in the big political leagues, you trusted that kid with your life.

“i apologize, your highness, i seem to have that effect,” he winks, “anyway, i am sure we could convince the king to let it slide and allow the queen to appoint her mystery lover as a consort.”

though changkyun always seems to speak nonsense, his nonsense is giving you too much hope right now that you have to consciously hold yourself together and keep your expectations realistic, “tell me how, changkyun.”

“we could threaten to reveal information that, to be blunt, would ruin the king,” changkyun smirks, “i have been waiting for the chance to screw him over for years.”

“what information do you have?” kihyun speaks up, “and, no matter what it is, you know you’re painting a target on your back if you do this, right?”

changkyun, suddenly somber, nods, “of course i know that this would make me a target for the king, but… i owe it to you, your highness. you’re the reason i am alive. i live to serve you, not the crown. and.. do you think exposing to the kingdom that the king wants to invade our northern allies because they wouldn’t give him their princess to fuck would work? let’s just say, the king is one incredibly unpleasant man.”

you glance over at kihyun, who is in turn, looking over at you, and you mumble, “what do you say we… pay a visit to my husband, just the four of us?” you raise an eyebrow at kihyun, and he just wants to laugh at the obvious death sentence.

“of course, my queen. let’s meet back here after dinner and say hello to him then.”

—

“my king,” kihyun says, entering first. he hears the disgruntled groan of the king before even daring to look up. he keeps his head down.

“what is it, yoo? this better be important,” he spits, and kihyun does his best to keep his cool. now that he’s really thinking about it, maybe they should have… not bothered the king during his personal time.

“the queen wishes to speak with you, your highness,” he mutters, hearing the scoff from the king, he can tell the attention is soon off of him because he hears your footsteps behind him.

“good evening, adrian,” your voice is cold and unwavering as you speak to the king, much different than the kindness and softness in your demeanor when you spoke to others. the difference is night and day.

“for what reason are you in my chambers this evening, y/n? i doubt you’re here for romance,” he chuckles half-heartedly, but you keep your glare pointed at him.

“you would be correct. i’m here to say i… i am appointing a consort.”

he laughs, actually bursts out into a fit of laughter, when you say that, “really?! you?! i hate to tell you, my wife, but that will not be happening.”

“actually, it will be,” kihyun stands up after kneeling, and meeting the king’s startled gaze, “she came here for a reason, and we’re not leaving until we do what we came to do.”

“who is this consort?!” the king doesn’t even spare kihyun more than a glance after he gathers himself together, “i feel bad for the poor thing, he’ll be dead before you even get the chance to do anything for him.”

the thought lingers in your head. that is definitely a possibility. hoseok was definitely physically strong, but there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it out of this alive. you have to remind yourself that this is what hoseok wanted, that he is fully aware of the danger, and that you’re doing this for him. you pull yourself back together, feeling kihyun’s hand on your shoulder, being a comforting and supporting presence, “you will allow it, adrian, i assure you that it’s in your best interest to let this happen.”

“and why is that?!” he shouts, making you flinch a bit, but you’re saved when changkyun comes in. it’s now three against one, and changkyun raises a piece of paper, with his signature smirk in place.

“take a look,” he murmurs, his voice deep and soft. it would be soothing if it wasn’t filling you with the same confident energy that he always has. it’s infectious, in the best way, “i’m sure the people would love to know how you tried to steal the princess of another kingdom away. that’s some real comic book supervillain stuff, my king.”

“and remember, public opinion heavily favors your wife, my king. sure, they’re terrified of you, but i doubt that is enough to stop them from rising up. we wouldn’t want a coup, would we?” kihyun seems to share the same sentiment, his usually respectful and reverent demeanor suddenly disappearing, “so how about settling this here and now?”

—

“hello, and good morning, my people. i hope you are managing well during these hard times. please know i am doing my absolute best to serve you all well and take care of each and every one of you. your needs are incredibly important to me and i wish i could be doing more to make your lives easier. i promise to do everything in my power to help you. please hold me to that if you feel i am lacking.

“today, i am here to confess and to ask that you hear me out. for over a year now, you may have heard rumors about affairs my husband and i have had. i am here to tell you, that at least on my end, the rumors hold true. i have… fallen for someone else. when my husband and i talked this over, we came to the conclusion that our titles mean we rule together, but neither of us have romantic or otherwise feelings for each other.

“as such, i am deciding to do something that… i should have done long ago. my lover— his name is lee hoseok— and i have let him be treated cruelly just to protect myself from rumors. that is something… i do not feel proud about. he is the kindest soul i have ever had the pleasure of loving, and i wish for him to only feel happy feelings for the rest of his existence. starting from today, he shall carry the title of ‘queen’s consort’. please treat him like you would any royalty. calling him what some have will not be tolerated any longer.

“thank you for your time, this has been queen y/n. i wish a kinder tomorrow for you all, take care.”

—

hoseok had been waiting in your chambers since you left to deliver your speech that morning, watching it from the tv in your room. he watched the heart-wrenching moments when he could see the fear and regret within you coming together in one big release. he thinks about all the things he needs to say to you when you get back, but once you’re walking through that door, he was at a loss for words.

“good morning, my hoseok,” you murmur softly, nudging him out of his dazed state, “how are you doing today?”

“i am… amazing. i am doing so well,” he finally breaks out into the brightest smile you’ve ever seen from him. he always gave lopsided grins or small smiles, all full of love, but he truly just seemed so happy, and the sight was incredibly endearing, “come kiss me, please.”

“of course, dear,” you mumble, pulling him by his collar to crash your lips on his. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find a home resting on his beautiful chest and shoulders. you kiss him feverishly, and he reciprocates with the same intensity. you pull back to kiss along his jaw, dropping down to kiss his neck as well, and the room is filled with the beautiful breathy moans he lets escape.

“i love you so, so much, y/n,” he whispers breathlessly, gasping when you bite down. his hands hold your waist, pulling you impossibly close, and god he never wants to let go.

“i know, bunny, i know, and i love you so much more,” you whisper as he whimpers out of need when your knee brushes his crotch, pushing him down on the bed, feeling all up on him under you. it’s exhilarating like always, a feeling he’ll never get used to no matter how much he tries, “tell me, bunny, today is about you, so tell me what you want.”

“c-could you—,” he stutters, always struggling with words when you touch him the way you do, “—please ride me?”

“of course, sweetie,” you giggle, of course he wants that. well, you’ve never been one to deny him what he wants, bunny’s so spoiled.

you both undress rather quickly, even as he struggles to get his shirt off. he pulls you back on top of him as soon as he has the chance, and you immediately kiss him with ferocity, hands massaging the skin of his waist, making him giggle slightly, “hah, that tickles!”

you smile at his cute reactions, before taking his hand and pulling it so his fingers barely graze over your sex, “feel that, angel? that’s all you, this is what you do to me” he groans as he feels the wetness on his fingertips, “now stay still, i promise i’ll make you feel really good.”

“you always do,” he breathes with a smile, meeting your soft gaze for a second before you lower yourself down on him and you both moan simultaneously, and he adds on, “o-oh my god!” you take a second to adjust, but you soon start rocking your hips slowly, gaining speed gradually. nothing else, and nobody else, existed in that moment other than you and him.

“bunny,” you murmur, and he tries to pay attention to your voice, but he’s losing himself in the pleasure, “touch me, will you?” he reaches out to rub your clit as you continue to ride him. god, it’s so easy to see stars, especially when there’s the prettiest one right in front of you. you grasp his hair as you start speeding up, feeling your orgasm coming, “cum with me, hoseok.” he attempts to nod, unable to speak from the warmth begging to burst in his body.

he cries out as you pull one last time, orgasming with the most pornographic moans and look on his face you’ve ever seen. you’re right there with him, and if sucks you don’t get a chance to admire him fully, but that can be saved for later.

once you’re done, having both hit your highs and come down, you take care of him like always. he reaches for the snacks you keep in the drawer of your nightstand. it seemed like the boy was always hungry, but especially so after his soul practically left his body from how good you make him feel. you run him a bath where he just plays with bubbles and asks for nose kisses, but he looks so happy that your heart just melts.

and then you tuck him into bed, warmly dressed with fluffy socks to top it off. sure, it’s only 11 in the morning, but you don’t have anything to do until evening, and he could always use some cuddles.

—

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