#for some reason the 'keep reading' thing appeared all the way on top so nobody can read the preview so i'm 100% sure this will flop

[andersdotters]

Oh my gosh, thank you so SO much for taking the time to outline the process! I don't even know where to begin with expressing how much you've managed to help me and how much I've learned from you :D

You actually gave me a whole new perspective to think about such as how contrasting traits in a character/person's personality isn't unique. For example, the people who appear the most confident in public may also be the ones who show the most insecurity in private. Here I was thinking it was unique to an individual, but that could very well be a standard for confident people (or those who appear most in their element) that I just never noticed. You really connected the dots for me, thank you!!

And third attempt?? The amount of effort you put into this-- I appreciate you so much <3 It really shows how much effort you put into all your work and the outcome is always incredible (case in point!)

And don't worry at all about the length!! Alongside appreciating how comprehensive and thorough your explanations were, this was so fascinating and fun to learn about. I could seriously read what you have to say about analysis all day!

Once again, thank you for all your help. From the top to the tags, everything was such a treat to read. I feel ready to pick up a pencil and give it another go!

PS. The Dottore example made me do a double take and cackle :')

This is such a late reply, I’m sorry, but thank you! I’m glad you liked it and am even more glad it made sense!! Sometimes I try explaining things and end up overcomplicating everything. LOL The most important thing is to remember to view them as normal people.

I’ll give you a bit more advice when it comes to writing because I saw a post earlier today that got me thinking. Regardless of what kind of fanfiction you write, don’t project your preconceived notions of how things should look like. By this, I’m talking about familial relationships, friendships, romantic love, etc. Just like real life, characters have tolerances for different things, so you should adapt your fics to suit them.

More below

This is something that is very evident when people try to write romance. A lot of people assume romance is characterized by flirting, physical touch, sweet words, physical attraction, etc. Majority of the character x reader fics have majority of these traits. The reason why is because this is what most people have been taught romance looks like. That’s how mainstream media presents it to us. But if you look at real life, this is not necessarily how it looks.

Just like real life, some people are terrible at flirting. Others lack a romantic bone in their body. Some people are wordy, others are not. Some show bombastic displays of love, while others show love in the small things. Some people are touchy, while others find it awkward. Some people immerse themselves in love while others try to keep a logical mind.

Romance changes depending on the character. Just because (the metaphorical) YOU wish to be treated a specific way romantically does NOT mean the character is naturally capable of it. This is a habit that so many in the character x reader community have. If you wish to write a character realistically, you need to take their capabilities in mind, not what you desire to be true.

That being said, the power of fanfiction is that you can make anything possible. If you want Alhaitham to make flower crowns with a smile on his face, you can do that. Nobody is stopping you. But it’ll take a very deep understanding of his character to write such a thing true to it and not ooc.

I say all of this like I am skilled at writing characters in character, but I still have a long way to go. I try to keep these things in mind because this is how I enjoy to write. In no way do I expect others to feel the same. Some people write just to write and that’s okay. But if you want to try and write characters more realistically or have more realistic plots, these things are good to keep in mind.

[ladyfromaspookyforest]

Scott Clarke is an NPC (I'm dead serious)

Scott does So Much (yes, I'll be capitalizing often in this post) for the story in season 1 and yet is developed more or less not at all. He's a side character. Do I expect to get to know him on the level I know Mike or Joyce? No. It's the fact that he does So Much and yet we know So Little that's odd. I know more about Vickie than I do about Scott despite how much more screentime AND impact Scott has had.

I’ve been looking at some Suspicious Behavior surrounding Scott, which I’m writing a separate post on. So in this post, I won’t be theorizing about anything we don’t know about him. I want to talk about the role he plays as we see it.

I had this thought and once I had it, I couldn’t get rid of it. See, my thought was, “Huh, Scott’s kind of like the chorus in a play.” And I keep thinking about that. The role of the chorus (historically...like Greek historically) is to provide information the audience needs that the actors cannot themselves give. Sometimes they offer commentary on what the actors are doing. Sometimes they offer foreshadowing. Sometimes they announce a tonal shift.

You know when you read a book and there’s a conversation like,

"Are you hungry?" "No, I’m good. I doubt I’ll ever feel truly hungry again now that I’ve lived through the Four Year Famine." "That’s true. Those were a hard four years after the Leprechaun Army of Willyfilly Forest turned all our crops to marshmallows, and when the marshmallows melted on the hottest day of the summer and ruined the soil etc. etc."

and you’re just sitting there like JFC nobody talks like this? The chorus makes it so you don’t have to listen to characters over explain things to each other in abominably unnatural ways. But they aren’t characters whose independent arcs are explored.

In season 2, Scott literally introduces us to Max and in doing so, also reveals to us that she is MADMAX. His first lesson is about the human brain, and he tells us that there are 100 billion cells inside working together as one. This foreshadows the hivemind. His second lesson is about Phineas Gage and how his behavior dramatically shifted after the rod incident. This foreshadows Will’s possession. His third lesson is about instinctual fear and this one is literally given as a voiceover on top of Mindflayer Will approaching the hot bath. It couldn’t be any clearer. Scott’s role in season 2 is very blatantly the Chorus role. He delivers information to the audience and that is all.

In season 1, it isn’t that he’s speaking TO us to provide us with the information we need, but that his EXISTENCE provides us with the information we need.

Example: Instead of suffering through something along these lines—

"The Heathkit is so cool. It’s amazing that it’s able to reach so much further than a regular radio."

—we have Scott teaching the boys about it because it’s just arrived. This is pretty much storytelling 101, basic Show Don’t Tell. But what has me stuck on it is that this is ALL Scott does. The only reason Scott needed to be in the woods searching for Will that first night was so that he could strike up a conversation resulting in the revelation that Hopper lost a daughter.

But here’s how I look at it: Scott’s like an NPC. He just appears while you’re on your important mission to communicate with Will and says, “I’ll give you the key to the Very Important Radio but first you have to do something!” and then you have to go to this assembly and there’s this minor bad guy you fight there and then you get to go use the radio. Or you’re on the Scour the Woods quest and NPC Scott pops up and says “I found this piece of cloth! Looks like it’s from the lab!” And you have to go on your Scour the Lab quest.

Scott Clarke is the true NPC of Stranger Things. There is one instance of Scott Not Furthering the Plot in season 1 and it’s when he’s at home, watching a movie with a ladyfriend (the biggest plot twist of season 1) before Dustin interrupts to make sure he doesn't get too comfortable and gets back to his job of Driving the Plot. So Scott tells him how to make a sensory deprivation tank.

I said that like a joke, but it’s actually so fascinating to me that we don’t just see Scott picking up the phone when Dustin calls, which would have been in line with everything else we’ve seen from him all season. This includes when Connie comes to wrangle the party’s identities out of him. We don’t see what he was doing before she arrives. We see her knock and only then do we see inside as he answers the door. But in this scene, we catch this brief glimpse of Scott’s life before Dustin interrupts and that interruption genuinely feels like it’s saying, “No, no, Mr. Clarke. You’ve misunderstood the assignment. You’re supposed to be helping, not relaxing.”

This happens again in season 3. We actually see inside his garage as he paints a little DnD figure while Joyce is knocking on the door before he hears her and gets up to greet her. It’s just a brief glimpse of his life outside of school. So what we know about Scott is that he likes science, he likes film, and he likes DnD. We actually already knew he liked DnD because he knew what the Vale of Shadows was in The Flea and the Acrobat and we could have guessed he liked film because he’s in charge of (and enthusiastic about) the AV Club. But what we know about Scott is, in short, his interests and that he cares about his students.

I think I need to take a moment to talk about why Scott is different from other side characters. Let’s keep on with season 1 for now. Barb is only in two episodes, but she’s developed enough that we see her emotions. We understand her worry that Nancy is outgrowing her. We see her frustrations as she’s dragged to a party where she doesn’t feel comfortable and then as Nancy abandons her. But ultimately, Barb IS the plot. She’s the instigator for Nancy’s journey. Similarly, Troy is the plot, serving as an obstacle for the boys. Tommy and Carol are antagonists to Nancy and Jonathan and offer Steve a self-growth arc. All of these side characters further the characterization of a protagonist. Scott only furthers the plot. (Don't @ me, I'm not implying he wasn't a great influence on the kids, I'm talking about what we see onscreen)

There are also side characters who don’t really do anything most of the time but maybe have a scene or two where they actually do something relevant. Like Holly. She’s just around most of the time, but then she notices the lights. Or Flo. She’s just at the office doing her job until she offers up some words about love and stupidity to Nancy.

No other side character consistently furthers the plot Every. Single. Time. they are on screen. And yet Scott is totally undeveloped. It’s his complete lack of independent journey combined with the way he appears solely to reveal information the protagonists require that makes him like an NPC. If he did not exist, the plot would halt. He is a destination the protagonists need to arrive at in order to achieve their goals. This is true of both seasons 1 and 3. In season 2, the plot actually would have been fine without him (I wouldn’t. I would not have been fine without Scott, FYI) but he was there to offer us foreshadowing and themes. His Chorus Era, as I am deeming it.

Season 2 also contains the only instance of Scott Not Furthering the Plot AT ALL in a scene. It’s at the Snow Ball. He’s briefly seen tacking up a banner and then again greeting Dustin. Nothing is revealed about him or his life through these moments, but they don’t serve the story in any way and frankly, that’s refreshing. Good for you, Scott. It isn’t like in seasons 1 and 3 where his peace is interrupted. Although, technically, Dustin still has to interact with Scott here in order to get into the Snow Ball.

I’m trying very hard to wrap this up without going into Theory Mode because I’m saving all that for my other post, but I feel like I just shat out a bunch of nonsense if there’s no Great Point I’m making. Conclusion: this character was written with a very specific purpose in mind. The writers made sure he was essential in every scene he is (has a speaking role) in except for one quick non-character-building interaction. And for a character so Important, he is left unusually underdeveloped. I don’t think this was an accident, that’s all. Scott Clarke for ST5.

[thoumpingground]

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Thoughts: Chapters 38-42

Helen is plotting her escape, let's gooo!! But first, drama. I knew Lowborough would end up suicidal. The way Helen describes him struggling not to kill himself in the room the night after he discovers the adultery is bone-chilling. He's pretty serene all things considered, though. Forgives Helen fairly quickly for keeping him in the dark, turns out Hattersley's plot to "take care" of Huntington (lol), by the looks of it gives Annabella a generous alimony if she's able to keep partying in London. It made me sad that he's happy to keep his son but not his daughter (because she looks like her mother, I guess? idr what Annabella looks like) but the story is bleak enough as it is and unless I'm contradicted later I'm choosing to believe he gets over it for both of their sakes.

Hargrave... vindictive little scumbag. I'm so mad at myself for feeling bad for you. In a book full of hateable men it's impressive how quickly he made top of the list. I wanted to scream when Helen told him about her escape plans. For a second I thought he might help her... but of course not. I have to go back to the Gilbert parts and see if he calls Helen "his angel" because that's clearly a red flag (Huntington did it too, that much I remember). I hope he goes back to Paris and some french opera girl drains him of all his money.

Hattersley is all over the place in these chapters. Such a chaotic redemption arc. Offering Lowborough to be his fucking hitman (again, lol), defending Helen from Huntingdon when they think she's cheating with Hargrave (so many bloody H's in this book), encouraging Huntingdon to turn a new leaf while they ply his son with alcohol... I know he had that conversation with Helen about Millie not feeling anything a few chapters back, so it doesn't exactly come out of nowhere, and he loves his kids, and he's still a dick through his good moments (plying toddler Arthur with alcohol, calling Helen names even while defending her...), but it still feels sudden. And when did he start loving Millie to the point the idea of making her happy pushes him over the edge into reform? He only married her because she was a doormat, and he's been deluding himself into thinking she was dead inside (that or she has a poker face that would put Vegas out of business), and I know he's been strugggling with that, but still. I'm glad Millie gets a reformed husband by the end of this section, but wow. What a trip.

Huntingdon commitment to get worse is impressive. I was surprised he pawned Helen off to his friends. Again, I'd read Arthur wasn't phisically abusive, and it appears he never rapes her, but this sounds an awful lot like he's giving his friends leave to. I have a half-formed thought about how Huntingdon keeps making masculinity and power about viciousness. He's making a show out of corrupting little Arthur to hurt Helen, but I think he sincerely beleives it's making a man out of him, and if they were on better terms he'd be doing it covertly. "A Misadventure"... Hooly shit, if there was ever understatement. And a reason to title the following chapter "Hope Springs Eternal in the Human Breast"! If the book hadn't started after Helen made her escape it might have made me cry. The bitter, sinister delight Huntingdon takes in stripping Helen of every mean of escape, and how casually he's able to do it, how ties his masculinity to it... I don't understand how this book isn't better known. This should be taught at schools.

I hate the way nobody's allowed to talk about the abuse. I swear, this is 1984 with petticoats. Helen and Millie urging Esther to be careful who she chooses while insisting that they're happy themselves... It reframes all Helen's and Aunt Margaret's interactions from early in the diary, though Esther seems more receptive than Helen (thank god...). Helen trying (usuccesfully) to hide her unhappiness from Aunt Margaret is so sad. So is her guilt over giving her aunt grief in her old age. On brighter news, Frederick to the rescue! I knew something good would come of Huntingdon fucking off to London for half the year! I knew Lawrence was Helen's brother! It's gonna be fun when she finds out that Gilbert struck him in the face. It's gonna be fun when Gilbert realizes who he struck in the face!

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 6-- Alien

"What is this?" You hold up the strange rectangular prism. The outside is shiny, and it's labeled with bold red letters. "Choc— chocolate?" You make your best attempt to read and pronounce the word. On your home planet, you studied many of the languages of Earth, but apparently, some cultural details did not reach your galaxy. You knew nothing whatsoever about Earth foods prior to your arrival on the blue planet, though you've been pleased to discover that much of it is pretty similar to what you're used to.

Unknown shoots you a withering glare— he doesn't seem to like it very much when you ask him questions. "What do you mean, what is it? It's chocolate."

Your pronunciation was a little off, then. Based on the smell, you're almost certain that it's some kind of food, but you've been fooled before— Unknown was kind enough to explain to you on your first night here that hand soap is not edible, despite the sweet smell. "Thank you," you nod at him in acknowledgment. 

Hardly anybody talked to you during your first two weeks on Earth, but maybe that was your own fault. You went out of your way to choose the most unassuming identity you could think of: a recent college graduate with no job experience, no surviving family, and virtually no online presence. You wanted to pose as someone that nobody would miss, so that you could slip in and out of situations easily— this would hopefully allow you to gather copious amounts of information to send back to your home planet, without attracting any unwanted attention from humans. You were excited, however, when you received a text from a stranger asking you to help him get in touch with the owner of a phone he’d found— you figured at the time that this was some strange Earth custom of which your university professors back home had neglected to inform you, though you now understand that it was part of an elaborate hoax. When you arrived at the owner's apartment to confront them about their phone, Unknown sent you a string of numbers and asked you to input them into a password lock.

The panel of number buttons on the door to the apartment didn't look anything like the password locks you'd seen before— in fact, you were too busy scanning the wall for one of the touch-screens that you were familiar with from your time on the spaceship to even notice anything odd about the handle of the door itself. You asked for help a few times, but Unknown didn't seem to understand your confusion. After accusing you of lying, he appeared out of the shadows to abduct you— you could barely contain your laughter as you, an invader from another planet, were dragged away by a human. Isn't it normally the other way around?

 For whatever reason, the Earthling seems to have taken an interest in you; he explained right away that he had been keeping an eye on you for the what amounted to entire duration of your time on Earth. You still don't know what he originally hoped to accomplish, but you imagine that your anonymity appealed to him when he was formulating his initial plan. Now, however, you intend to do your best as his assistant. From your understanding, an assistant is someone who attends to their boss’s various needs and follows instructions without question— sometimes, physical proximity is involved, as well, but you don’t mind that. You like Unknown; he's your first human friend, and he's taught you more than you ever expected to learn about Earth over the course of the past two days. "And what's this?" You ask, holding up a strange stick with four points sticking out of the top. You found it on the floor earlier, and you've been holding onto it all day, waiting for a good opportunity to ask. It might be some kind of weapon— you’re not sure yet whether your new boss expects you to fight to defend him. He hasn’t said anything about it yet, but he also doesn’t seem particularly interested in explaining things to you, so you can’t write the possibility off entirely. 

"You know what it is," Unknown assures you, glaring at you again with confusion and annoyance. "You must be looking for attention or something, hm?"

The item you asked about must be very common on Earth, then. You don't want him to guess that you're from another planet— you get the feeling that your employer wouldn't like knowing that you've been mining him for information. "Yes," you respond a little too quickly. "I want attention."

He laughs at you. "You're a bold one, aren’t you?  Well, either way— you should make yourself useful instead of trying to distract me." 

You know what that means by now, so you settle onto his lap, scanning the code in front of you  with as much focus as you can muster. When Unknown first brought you to this intelligence room— not because he thought you were intelligent, as he explained when you asked him, but because he expected you to assist him with the collection of intelligence, as in information— he asked you to stare at the screen and be quiet, nothing more. However, within a few seconds, it became apparent to you that Earth computers are decades (if not centuries) behind the ones you’ve grown up using. You find that the code is significantly easier to work with than what you had to contend with in college, let alone when your spaceship malfunctioned halfway through the Andromeda Galaxy. You’re practically an expert at scanning lines of code for potential weak points in the applications that they represent. "There's an error there," you point out, "You could get in that way." As far as you know, Unknown is in the process of getting control of a messenger application, though he has yet to tell you why. You figure that it's none of your business— it doesn't have anything to do you with your mission, anyway.

"Mhm," he agrees, patting you on the head. From your understanding, this is something that humans do to show approval. "Nice work, prince(ss)."

You don't have too much time to bask in the praise, rare as it is, because you're already distracted by something else. You reach across the keyboard, forgetting momentarily to modulate your speed, and pick up a thin plastic tube with a clicking mechanism at the top. "What's this thing?" You press on the clicker a few times, and to your delight, discover that the mechanism extends and retracts a small metal point.

Unknown snatches the item out of your hand and throws it across the room. He must not be a fan of the clicking noise. "Stop messing around and get back to work." Thankfully, he's so annoyed with your insubordination that he didn't even notice the inhuman speed at which you grabbed the object. You'll have to be more careful in the future— after all, you don't want to scare your only friend in the Milky Way.

You shrug, returning your attention to the code in front of you. You're grateful that you can be of use to this Earthling who has been so kind to you, inviting you into his home and providing for your basic needs. He even answers some of your questions, which is more than you've gotten out of anybody else on this planet. If you have to spend a few hours a day staring at a screen in exchange, then so be it— you want to help him however you can.

[thotsforvillainrights]

Wowwww the box is open!! Woo!

Can I request that reader and giran get into an argument so one of them leaves and then they make up in like a hallmark way under a Christmas tree outside

Merry early Christmas!

(Reading Giran and Hallmark in the same breath is absolutely insane, I love it! I'll try to make it Hallmark-esque but we gotta keep in mind this is Giran we're talking about lol. Anyway, Cue the cheesy title!)

~I'll Be Home for Christmas~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

Nobody and I mean nobody would like to have a big knock-down/drag out fight with their significant other during the most cheerful season of the year. However, with billions of people in the world or course it would be happening to someone out there. How even more unfortunate that it's also happening to you in this very moment.

To sum things up shortly: the two of you were on opposing sides. Every year you and Giran were supposed to come with you to visit your family (or close friends depending on reader) during the holidays. It's become sort of a tradition by which you both usually had no issues upholding. However, this year it was different. He had a bit of important work come up between the two of you and that led him to packing up and preparing to go halfway across Japan to get the job done. You begged, pleaded, complained, shouted, and did all you could do in the moment. How dare he put work between the two of you during Christmas of all times? It's not like you were being a total brat about it. You didn't mind letting him do what he needed to do all year round. There have been times during some of the years where he's ditched you on your own birthday just to get it done.

You never complained then. You let him handle it and waited back home for him to return like a good little partner would do. You compromised on everything but this time it was different.

You had boundaries and you put your foot down. Christmas/the holiday season was the ONLY time of year you didn't want him leaving you all alone during. You would think he would return the same amount of respect and patience toward you as you did for him, but it appears you were wrong..."Y/N, look. It aint no hard feelings towards you. I told you this a million times. I need to handle this shit sooner than later because if I don't then it might spiral outta control." He grumbled while packing his bag. You weren't trying to hear it, instead opting to cross your arms and glare at him from the doorway while he zipped the suitcase. "Giran I don't want to tell you this for the millionth time but I-"

"You don't have to tell me anything for the 'millionth time'. I'm a grown ass man and I demand respect. Simple as that. So you can go throw your little childish hissy fit all you want." He shrugs it off and lifts the suitcase from the ground. You can't help but to feel a new round of tears threatening to spill over. "Are you being serious right now? After all I do for you this is how you're going to return the favor? I really can't fucking stand you for it." You try to not escalate the moment anymore than it already is, but he bites onto it and adds more on top. "No, this aint how I return the favor as you would call it. This is how I fucking make the money that keeps you living lavish. The way I see it, you outta be thankful for me working my ass off." That was that. Before you knew it he'd brushed past you without so much as a goodbye before getting into the car and leaving.

You cried a lot that night. For some reason the bed felt a little extra cold and it had nothing to due with the drop in temp outside. The next morning you had a hard time trying to find the cheer in anything. This carried on for another day or so until it was Christmas eve. You found yourself numbly folding and packing clothes before departing to your loved ones...alone. It was the sudden soft knock at the door that pulled you out of the emotional pit you were sinking into. You were cautious and slow to answer, wondering who was even here considering you hadn't expected anyone but the show shovelers today. You opened the door to see a familiar face standing beneath the snow covered tree festively decorated in the front yard. Although you had an annoyed face, it couldn't mask the way your heart beat in the moment. "What, did you forget something here?" You spoke flatly as he smirked. "Yeah, my mind I guess you could say." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small box adorned with a red bow. "Can we talk?" He asked with a small smile. You sighed and went back into the house to retrieve a jacket.

You'd come back outside and joined him beneath the tree, crossing your arms and waiting to hear whatever he had to say to justify leaving you all alone. Giran sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "Listen...I'm no good at this kind of thing. I'm shit at apologies and whatnot. I just uh...I wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I was acting. I mean, I thought about what you said. I thought about all the times you let me go knowing I was missing birthdays and anniversaries and whatnot. Well Hell, I guess I'm trying to say I was an asshole. I'd love to join you on the trip if you'll have me?" He smiled small and held the box out toward you. There was a bit of hesitation hanging in the air considering you were still slightly hurt by his previous actions. However, your curiosity never failed to get the best of you as you grabbed the box and opened it to reveal a beautiful gold herringbone necklace. "Forgive me?" He asked hopefully and you sighed before rolling your eyes and opening your arms for a hug.

It was too cold outside anyway to deny such an offer as this.

[bestworstcase]

also not interested in arguing but always happy to discuss different opinions, so:

in essence my read on salem is that she’s been isolated for so long and fallen so deeply into despair that her capacity for caring about individual people has atrophied to almost nothing; that she does monstrous things because she’s resigned to being treated like a monster no matter what, truly believes this is the only option she has to keep moving forward, and is able to tolerate horrific levels of collateral damage because she so admires and cherishes humanity as a collective on top of being so fucking old that she conceives of humankind in terms of civilizations rather than people. in this sense i think she’s actually quite similar to ozma—who is better than she is at caring about individuals but also still a manipulative liar who tries to coerce a seventeen year old girl into participating in the murder and spiritual violation of a comatose young woman, tries to forcibly suppress oscar and then physically attack ruby to protect his secrets, shrugs and goes “well she knew the risks” about a seventeen year old who died in a training accident at his school, and in a previous life effectively nuked his own allies to win the great war and then decided to safeguard the relics by surrounding them with “trained warriors” (the 17-20 year old students who attend the huntsmen academies). they’re both completely fucked up and detached from the reality of the people they hurt in the course of the religious war they’re having over whether human existence is a right or a privilege, in juxtaposition to the kids trapped in the middle who just care fiercely about individual people but are so caught up in the immediate crises that they haven’t even begun to question the validity of the ideological cause they as huntsmen stand for. and that’s the essence of the good-but-wrong vs evil-but-right dynamic.

and then with salem too i think there is a legitimate question as to whether she has a better option. she is immortal, she looks like a grimm, the actual creators of her universe carry a personal grudge against her, her opponent is also immortal and very firmly convinced that she is the root of all evil and must be destroyed in order to save humankind, and he appears to have arrived at this conclusion largely on the basis of natural grimm behavior while salem kept herself at so far a remove from human civilization that nobody had a clue she existed, i.e. not based on anything she actually did after the murderdivorce. (granted the murderdivorce itself is reason enough for enmity, but lost fable makes it emphatically clear that ozma believes salem is actively responsible for every grimm attack in the world and that’s the basis for his commitment to destroying her.)

it seems to me that her options are to, 1. lie down and exist in abject hopeless misery forever until ozma taps out and triggers eschaton, at which point the likeliest outcome is the gods blow up the planet and whisk salem into another realm to find some inventive new way to punish her for hating them; 2. do her best to move on by reaching out and finding community with people in order to heal, which is going to be a difficult, painful, alienating and likely traumatizing effort in and of itself because of what she looks like and will also inevitably lead to brutal, endless warfare because ozma is a religious zealot who blames her for the existence of evil, meaning that the best case scenario here is an eternity spent watching people she loves die because of her over and over and over again; or 3. quietly bide her time for however long it takes to work out a viable strategy for ending the problem at its source, i.e. the gods, and then assassinate ozma and cut a swift, clean path to the four relics before he can return and mount a serious defense that might drag out the conflict and lead to greater destruction. there’s no good options here but option three is like… the least terrible for salem herself and also on balance probably less destructive than option two. and i really do think that salem IS trying to mitigate collateral damage to the degree that she can. consider that:

1 - vale is overrun by grimm during the battle of beacon, but the situation in the city is “under control” and rebuilding begins within days of the attack—despite the fact that beacon’s campus is still swarming with grimm whose numbers are, per the CFVY novels, noticeably increasing over time, likely because salem’s agent at beacon has been acting under orders to reinforce their numbers there. within a year vale appears to be more or less restored to normalcy—we get a glimpse of the dust shop open for business as usual in volume eight. likewise, amity coliseum was recovered and brought home to atlas without incident.

2 - in mistral, salem slowly picked off huntsmen adjacent to ozpin’s inner circle until none were left and ordered lionheart to send the entire faculty away from haven academy, leaving it completely empty except for him. her plan for haven was for her agents to slip in with the spring maiden, retrieve the lamp, probably assassinate lionheart on the way out, and then let adam’s white fang blow up a few empty buildings. had it gone according to plan her victory would have been almost entirely bloodless; as it is, as soon as the relic was in play salem cut her losses, left it to cinder to recover the lamp, and moved right on to her next intended target.

3 - after ozma’s premature reincarnation put a spanner in the works and salem rushed to atlas with a flock of grimm large enough to blot out the sky, she laid siege to atlas with the terms “surrender the relics and i will leave you in peace” and then did not attack mantle, despite it being utterly defenseless. in fact the narrative takes the time to specifically highlight multiple times that salem is not attacking mantle, with joanna remarking that the flock is just circling around atlas “waiting,” oscar stating that “salem’s forces aren’t moving in, but [the negativity] is enough to start attracting the stragglers,” and the hound—which is later shown to be able to command other grimm—driving some of those stragglers AWAY from mantle before it captures oscar.

4 - it’s impossible to say one way or another whether salem would have dropped atlas upon getting the relics, because she’s a pile of ash when the kids use the staff and the evacuation is effectively already over by the time she reconstitutes. her track record, however—both vale and mistral left to brush themselves off and rebuild once beacon is captured and the lamp is out of its vault—is a point in favor of thinking that she wouldn’t have, unless she had a pressing need to use the staff, and she doesn’t appear to be even slightly disappointed by the news that both cities were successfully evacuated.

for all her willingness to brutally level any obstacle in her path, she also seems to make an active effort to keep the scope of her destruction fairly narrow.

(there are also peculiarities like the fight in witch, in which salem 1. releases all of her hostages, 2. looms menacingly for fully half a minute while hazel has his heartfelt goodbye with emerald, 3. slings a bit of magic around in random directions, 4. lets hazel smash her into a pulp, 5. immobilizes him and takes note of her escaping hostages, and then 6. tosses hazel in the opposite direction to beat him up some more instead of recapturing the kids. kshbfjs it’s interesting, because—assuming summer rose is indeed working for salem of her own accord, which i think is most likely—salem has a clear motive for letting the kids go in that yang identifies herself as summer’s daughter immediately prior, but if that really is what’s happening in this scene then the way salem lets them go, by playing to their expectations of her as an storybook villain, says some neat things about her character.)

anyway all this to say that don’t think it’s contradictory for salem to both cherish the idea of humanity and be cruel and exploitative towards individual humans, and that reading is what makes the most sense to me based on the things she’s done over the course of the show.

i also broadly agree that salem as she is right now is in no way likely to offer a ceasefire (not least because she is, in fact, winning the war)—BUT she’s also been shown to be very strategically and tactically flexible and, as outlined, i read her destructive extremism as coming fundamentally from a place of hopelessness—that she feels backed into a corner with no other options. one of the core themes of the story is (in salem’s own words!) that even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change. and one of the major subplots of volume 8 involved a power struggle between cinder and salem that cinder wins, a critical paradigm shift that i anticipate will continue to evolve across the next few volumes.

loosely my thinking is that cinder’s going to end up being that spark of hope, and that rekindling salem’s hope is probably going to incite the kind of coalition-building, uniting-the-world-against-a-common-enemy approach salem brought to her first rebellion. ultimately rwby is pretty overtly building towards a final confrontation and ideological victory over the gods, not salem; the natural way to get there is by union of the heroes’ goodness—their compassion and conviction that what matters is people, individuals over ideology—with salem’s ideological rightness—her outright rejection of the idea that humanity needs to be ‘redeemed’ from human nature in order to earn the privilege to exist; and i think for that union to occur, 1. salem needs to put her cards on the table and ask for help, even at the risk of rejection; and 2. the heroes need to really examine what they believe in and what cause they’re fighting for, and then decide whether to take her at her word. i… don’t think it could work in the opposite direction unless the heroes independently come to the conclusion that the gods need to be resisted, because any attempt to negotiate with salem from the position that the gods are justified is a non-starter, she’s been staunchly opposed to the gods for two hundred million years, she’s not going to change her mind about that. (and also realistically i figure it’s easier for the one with firm, clear ideological convictions and a fuckton of wrongdoing to atone for to make a compelling argument to the kids who care deeply about people and earnestly want to make the world bigger but also haven’t ever thought seriously about the ideology they inherited from the cult that trained them, rather than the reverse.)

rwby is hopepunk but also profoundly cynical i think

[moonlightrichie]

May I ask for reddie in the water confessing feelings?

This has been sitting in my inbox almost forever, but I was hit with sudden inspiration! Thank you for the prompt anon ♡

Disclaimers: references to sex, cursing

READ ON AO3

It was one of the hottest days they'd had all summer.

When Richie had woken up that morning with sunlight blinding his already blind eyes, warming his skin with its rays, he’d been quick to text the losers’ group chat to ask for a day at the quarry. It would be one of their last times down there before starting different colleges after summer, and Richie wanted to do it as much as possible. 

All of them had responded with thumbs-ups and sunny emojis. It had all made him smile. 

He was the first to arrive, already preparing for his skin to start getting burnt until Eddie arrived with sunscreen. Stan was the second to arrive, doing a double take when he noticed Richie.

“Stan my man!” Richie exclaimed, patting the bare rock ground next to him. “Come lie next to me, dahlin’.”

Rolling his eyes, Stan put his towel neatly on the ground, an amused smile breaking out on his face. “Since when have you ever been this early to a hang-out?”

“I originally left home early to squeeze in some much needed sexy time with your mom before coming here, but she was bus- ow!” he yelled as Stan pushed him over, laughter bubbling out of both of them.

“Asshole,” Stan grinned.

The others arrived soon after that. First there was Beverly holding hands with a blushing Ben, the two only recently starting to date, then Mike, Bill and Eddie. 

When Eddie’s gaze had landed on Richie’s pink chest, he’d let out a frustrated squeak, immediately diving into his fanny pack for sunscreen and running over. 

“What the fuck, Rich! You know you sunburn easily,” he muttered, already pouring streams of the liquid into his own hands. Richie could feel himself tensing up at the thought of Eddie’s hands on him, knowing his body wasn’t going to handle that without getting an erection.

He laughed nervously, trying to play it cool. “You gonna rub me all over, Spaghetti?” 

Eddie froze, staring down at his own sunscreen covered palms as if just realizing what he was doing. Letting out an annoyed 'ugh', he took a hold of Richie’s hand to pour the sunscreen there instead, drops spilling out from between Richie’s fingers, before he got up and settled next to Bill and Mike instead. 

Richie couldn’t help notice the small blush on Eddie’s cheeks. It made him look a little sunburned too.

After managing to apply the sunscreen messily over most of his exposed skin except for his back, Richie asked Stan to help him.

And as Stan's fingers went over Richie's back, Richie peaked over at Eddie to see him glare at Stan openly, as if he thought nobody was looking at him. It made Richie raise his eyebrows, catching Eddie's gaze and cocking his head to the side in question. 

Like a deer caught in headlights, Eddie's eyes widened, pretty browns reflecting the glitter of the water. With a huff, he put on his sunglasses and turned away to chat with Mike. 

Interesting, Richie thought. Very interesting, indeed.

Beverly was the first to jump into the water, everyone else following soon after, and the quarry soon turned into a battlefield of wrestling, swimming races and water drops flying in every direction. At some point, Richie managed to swallow a mouthful of water when inhaling too slowly while going underwater. He'd been a coughing wreck for the next two minutes. Nothing new, if he was being honest. 

At some point Richie saw Eddie standing by himself a little further away from the group, and was it just his awful vision fooling him or was Eddie already looking at him? Richie had a sudden urge to pick him up. 

"Eds!" he called, jumping forward on his toes to get closer before starting to swim. Eddie looked alarmed immediately, noticing the mischievous look on Richie's face and knowing what he was up to. Richie did this a lot.

"No, no!" He started swimming away from Richie's outstretched arms, but Richie had already gotten too close, and he picked Eddie up from behind and spun him around in the water. 

"Why are you running away from me, Spaghetti?" Richie laughed, holding on despite Eddie's attempts to wrestle away. "I thought you loved me!"

"Richie, please let go of me," Eddie said, but Richie, not noticing the desperate undertone to Eddie's voice, just hugged him closer. Having Eddie so close was pretty wonderful, and Richie would use any excuse he could. He was simply too in love.

Eddie managed to turn around in Richie's arms. The turn seemed to be in an attempt to push him away with his legs, but instead it was what ultimately gave away what he wanted to hide from Richie. 

Stopping all movement immediately, Richie looked dumbly up at Eddie, Eddie's hard-on pressing into the side of his thigh, glaringly obvious now. "Uh, is that…" He didn't know how to continue.

Eddie stayed quiet, his face bright red. 

"Is it," Richie swallowed, "is it a random boner you're having right now, or is that a meaningful boner?"

That made Eddie wrestle away again, and Richie let him go without a fight. 

"You're such a dick sometimes," Eddie mumbled, starting to move away. Richie saw the glistening in his eyes, and reached out desperately before Eddie could get away.

"No, no, wait," he laced their pruny fingers together, "I didn't mean it like that, I just, Eddie…" 

"What?"

"I was just wondering what it meant, because if you got that 'cause you like me, then that's awesome", Richie wasn't even aware of what he was saying anymore, just letting his mouth talk freely. "'Cause I definitely know that I like you like that too, like honestly I'm one hundred percent sure that I'm like fully in love with you and, and," he drifted off, his beating heart pulsing in his ears.

Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, and he wasn't saying anything. Time passed, and he still wasn't saying anything. 

Panic rose in Richie's chest. Why wasn't Eddie saying anything?!

"Fuck." Richie let go of Eddie's hand then, understanding settling over him and hurt sinking into his heart. "It was a random boner, wasn't it?"

He had totally just embarrassed himself completely, dumbly trying to reassure Eddie about something that didn't need to be reassured. 

Feeling like absolute shit, Richie inhaled shakily. Tears were already collecting in the corners of his eyes. "I'm an idiot. Please just, just forget everything I said." He turned around, noticing how all the others were still in their own world and having fun splashing around. Needing to be in that world instead of his own, Richie started to swim over, desperate to escape Eddie's eyes.

"Richie, fuck, don't you dare", a hand grabbed Richie's ankle. 

"Eds…"

"Richie," Eddie sighed, but he was smiling now. "I love you too. How the hell could I not love you back? Like, that would be physically impossible for me."

The words took a few seconds to sink in, but as soon as they did, they enveloped Richie's quickening heart. Soon he was grinning like an absolute idiot. "Wait, seriously?"

Eddie nodded fondly, smiling just as big. "Yeah", he said through a happy exhale. "You just overwhelmed me for a second there."

"Wait, wait, wait", Richie was about to absolutely burst, "holy shit, did we just confess our love for each other?"

Giggling, Eddie grabbed Richie's hands. "Yeah, I think we just did."

"And all 'cause you popped a boner over me, awe," Richie cooed, placing his hands around Eddie's waist to pull him closer.

"Ugh, you're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" Eddie complained, but the smile on his face told Richie that he wasn't really that mad. 

"Don't be embarrassed, it was peak romance." Richie's nose pushed against Eddie's lightly, letting them rub together for a moment. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yes, please."

Both leaning in, their lips finally met. 

Butterflies were going absolutely batshit crazy inside of Richie's stomach, his heart about to jump straight out of his chest. It took a few seconds of awkward fumbling to find the right angle, but soon their lips were fitting together perfectly just like Richie had always imagined. 

It was gentle, soft, wet from the water, and soon their mouths were opening enough to let their tongues meet. 

Eddie's hand settled around Richie's neck, fingers drifting up between his wet curls, and pulling Richie impossibly closer to him.

"What the fuck," a voice mumbled in the distance. "Are Eddie and Richie making out? Are you guys seeing this?"

Soon after there were several whoops and claps ringing through the air, enough to make the two of them break apart and turn toward their friends. All five of them were grinning madly. 

"Actually yes, we were, and you guys just interrupted us!" Richie yelled. "Let us kiss in peace, thanks."

Then he turned back around to a giggling Eddie, not wasting any time to kiss him again.

Tag list: @annoyingtozier, @spastuetheobsessedphylosopher, @constantreaderfool, @violetreddie, @rainbow-reddie, @tinyarmedtrex, @lermanslogan, @toziesque, @jesuschristsupruvestar, @queen-sock, @xandertheundead, @lifesucksheres20bucks, @that-weird-girls-blog, @eggtownnn, @eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @purplepoisonedgem, @h0pehauntedmyw0rld, @reddiegaypanic

[writingseaslugs]

Octavinelle: Manicures with Them

Well, here goes my favorite dorm~ I'm semi-smart at times and would never allowed Floyd to touch my nails though, just saying.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series is aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (You’re Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Manicures with Them

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul always keeps his nails just a little past the skin of his finger and files to be more square. He normally will apply either a French tip manicure or a purple color. He doesn’t do anything too crazy with them, always keeping it more professional. He does wear gloves all the time so most people don’t even know his nails are done, but he makes sure on the off chance he takes them off they’re presentable.

If you offer to do his nails, he’ll be more than happy to allow you. He’s pretty stressed a lot of the time and doesn’t give in to luxuries to have his nails done, so having you offer it is nice and relaxing for him. As long as you keep them looking professional for running a business, he lets you do your own thing. He might even have a lazy and relaxed smile on his face while watching you, maybe pointing out an easier way to do something.

He might be a bit nervous at first to do your nails since he normally only ever does his own. He’s never done anyone else’s nails, so this is stepping into new territory for him. He does an amazing job at the end and will be asking if you want anything special done with your nails. He’ll only use normal polish though since he doesn't know how to do acrylics. Just don’t expect him to be able to do your nails often; he’s pretty busy and won’t always have the time.

Jade Leech

Jade keeps his nails short and files to be flush against the skin of his fingers. He normally applies a clear coat on them in order for them to look nice, but doesn’t do much else with them. On occasion, he might do a teal or black to compliment his hair, but he never bothers much. His nails are done so it’s easier to deal with, not for appearances. He normally just wears gloves all day, so nobody ever sees them, so he doesn’t find a need for them to be over the top.

He’ll happily let you do his nails since it’s one less thing he has to do, not to mention it’s relaxing. He might have some dirt under his nails though from hiking or taking care of his beloved fungi, but it’s never too bad. It’s one of the reasons he likes to keep them short. He’ll request you make sure they aren’t long and if you really want he might let you paint them other colors. He really enjoyed it when you did his nails and you painted them all brown except his pointer fingers which were yellow to match his eyes.

He might tease you a bit when you ask if he can do your nails, but he will later be inviting you over and have everything set up. He takes extra care in doing your nails and will color them however you want. He might even start keeping more nail polish around just for when you ask him. Sometimes though he’ll just do whatever he wants. He enjoys matching his nails to you or painting them teal with black strips on one side of them so they match his looks.

Floyd Leech

Floyd is horrible when it comes to biting his nails and cuticles. It isn’t uncommon for you to see a bit of blood around his nails from his chewing on them and breaking the skin. He also never has them painted since it tastes gross when he bites them off. He’s just a menace with his nails and half the time when he chews them they end up being sharp and jagged which makes it painful when he grabs someone with his hands and digs his nails into them, something he finds amusing so he keeps doing it.

If you offer to do his nails, he’s super happy and will ask if you can make them pointy (you can’t, he chewed them too short and he never lets them grow long enough before chomping them away). He might pout when you begin filing them so they aren’t so sharp anymore but is happy that you’re getting rid of all those pesky hang nails since he actually does hate them. You can put nail polish on him, but he doesn’t sit still and you might get some all over his nails that you have to clean up. He will also ruin them within ten minutes because he doesn’t wait for them to dry before touching stuff.

If you ever ask him to do your nails, you won’t have any left. He’ll cut them super short and they might bleed. The nail polish bit? Well, it’s going to be all over your nails, arms, and clothes. You name it and he’s gotten it on you. He also will have some smeared across his cheek from wiping something off his face. It’s honestly kind of funny, but a good lesson for him to not do your nails. He might ask you to do them again after the first time so just…don’t ask him in the first place.

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT HOUSTON

Okay, I’m actually so happy with this one. Come talk about it with me in my inbox! 😌

warning: smut

please like, comment, share, rec!

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

It was a bit of a shock, well a lot of a shock when YN is scrolling through her instagram time and it becomes flooded with a gif of her husband passionately kissing a gorgeous blonde.

The trailer for Don’t Worry Darling had dropped out of nowhere and now there was a nasty feeling on jealously, insecurity, and possessiveness in the pit of her stomach.

She knew it was irrational, they were married for fucks sake, but those emotions weren’t always rational.

YN watched it, over and over, until she tossed her phone onto the side table hard enough that it slides off and falls harshly on the ground.

Harry and crew were downstairs, it didn’t look like the Houston show was going to happen because of the storm.

She felts ridiculous and immature for the tears welling up in her eyes. It’s not like she was upset or mad at him.

She was proud of him for his acting abilities and all of his hard work - that’s why she was mad at herself right now.

YN knows Harry is expecting her downstairs to help figure out details, what to do for the fans, etc.. because she was a major part of the production crew.

But she nearly felt like she was going to throw up.

Could you blame her?

Who on earth would want to see their significant other making out passionately for the world to swoon over?

YN scrubs the tears from her cheeks, hadn’t even realized they were falling.

She does the worst thing ever, pulls it back up and starts ready comments, especially from their friends - it almost felt like betrayal. Jeff, Glenne, Lambert, Gemma.

A message appears at the top of the screen.

Bunny 🐰: come on darling, need you down here. meeting is about to start 😗

Her fingers hesitate.

yn: be down in five

Bunny 🐰: is everything okay? where’s my kiss? 😗😗😗😗😗😗😗😗😗😗

She sighs, she feels bad because it’s not his fault.

He had been offered the role, came home and instantly told his wife that if she wasn’t comfortable with him having romantic scenes - he’d turn it down.

YN wasn’t like that.

When she was being logically she would never want to stand in the way of Harry persuing his dreams.

It was acting and she had even been on set a few times when there were heated scenes but it just felt different - uncomfortable.

YN throws one of the bunny merch hoodies, a pair of cropped leggings, and black nikes before heading down from their suite to the conference room.

Harry had purposefully kept the seat open for her, right next to him, and she slips into quietly as they continue to talk.

There were a lot of higher ups in the room, from the venue, the touring company, his team - deciding on what they should do about the weather warning.

He instantly tugs her as close of possible to him with a long arm wrapped around her shoulder and a subtle kiss to the side of her head.

They’re talking about the people standing outside in the rain for GA, they all get quiet, and Harry nudges his wife, “Darling, they’re talking t’you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?” YN asks, eyes a bit wide in embarrassment at all the stares on her face.

A venue manager speaks up, “How do you think the fans will react and how can we ensure them of another show here. We do not want to lose the business of this concert.”

“Obviously upset. People have flown in for the concert - so maybe if you reach out to some of those fans and reimbursement their flights, they’d be more likely to come back and that would look good on you guys,” YN offers, tense and trying to ignore Harry’s concerned expression - he could always tell.

“Jamie, get on that,” The man orders with an executive nod that he liked the idea and Harry squeezes her shoulder lovingly.

The meeting goes on, she would normally wait for Harry to wade through all the people wanting to speak to him but she zips through the maze of bodies and back down the corridor to the elevator.

She about there when she hears someone running to catch up with her, knows exactly who it is when he pulls her back into his strong chest.

“Wha’s wrong?” Her husband murmurs in her ear, lips brushing softly and his arms keeping her as close as possible.

“It’s nothing, I just need some time alone,” YN sighs, stepping out of his warm embrace and turning to face him.

“Did I do somethin’? Baby, c’mon,” He coaxes, frowning as he studies her face, “Talk t’me, please.”

“I’m just - I’m being dumb,” She chuckles with no humor in her tone, tears welling again and she is quick to cover her face in her sleeve because fans are being to notice them.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get y’upstairs,” Harry replies, guiding her towards the elevator and throwing his arm around her to block her - it would look playful in the fan photos.

The crowd gets irritated when Harry refuses to stop and sign things, take pictures but his bodyguards quickly block them from getting to close.

Once in the elevator, alone, Harry cups her face gently, “Baby, y’gotta tell me what’s going on, m’confused.”

“The trailer, it came out and -“

Harry is perplexed for a moment, “Is that why everyone’s blowing up m’phone?”

Then he’s pulling it out, swiping a few times, and the short ten-second trailer is playing across his screen and he knows instantly.

“Sweetheart,” He sighs, tucking it back into his pocket, “M’sorry-“

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” YN interrupts him, eyes frantic as she speaks, “I’m not - It’s not your fault. I just wasn’t expecting it and it threw me off. I am so proud of you -“

“But y’a bit jealous, huh?” Harry smirks, rubbing his thumb against her bottom lip lightly, tugging to tease a bit.

“You’re my husband. Of course, I don’t want to see you do that with anyone else,” YN replies, watching as her husbands eyes meld into something fiery and golden.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asks, voice deepening into what YN likes to call his sex voice and it really does work - makes her stomach flip.

“Harry, you don’t have to try to make me feel better. I’m re-“

Harry hits the red stop button on elevator, pausing the movement - it was a single elevator to the penthouse so it wasn’t effecting the rest of the hotel guests.

“Let me tell you a secret. The day we had to film tha’ scene, when I had to kiss someone who wasn’t you over and over again. When I had to act like I would fuck someone other than you,” Harry’s teeth are grazing her jugular dangerously, his breathe minty and cool, “You remember that one night on the balcony?”

“Mm,” YN agrees shakily, she remembers that night a few months ago well.

-

Harry had come home from set with a mission.

He hadn’t disclosed what happened that day and YN had completely forgotten to ask later on.

When he stormed through their master bedroom and swung open the balcony doors, his eyes fall hungrily on his wife who’s reading a book on their balcony. ***

Her skin was glowing on the dim fairy lights and reflection of the moon, it was late- nearly midnight when he’d finally gotten home.

She was lounging on the sofa, sprawled in a silk pajama set that was simple but so sexy in the way her natural breasts lay without a bra - nipples poking at the fabric.

It had only taken him a moment, he’d been hard the whole ride home thinking about his wife, and when he saw that, he was striding over and murmuring, “You know your safe words, right baby?”

-

It was him eating her out hungrily, ridding her of her clothes and him still fully dressed as he nipped and sucked at her clit.

-

Then he had bent her over the balcony railing, overlooking the Hollywood hills where surely their neighbors could have seen if they squinted.

His fingers were digging harshly into her backside, thrusting and having her tits sway with the force as he praised her on how well she took it.

-

And it ended with back on the couch, her legs soaked from her multiple releases, skin smattered in bruises and love bites, and Harry kissing her roughly as he pinched her clit and released inside her.

-

“The reason I wrecked y’tha’ night was because doing all that shit on set made me want to come straight home to m’wife,” Harry whispers like there’s other people in the elevator with them.

“Harry,” She mutters shyly, avoiding eye contact and looking down to the marble floor.

“No, look at me, baby. All I could think about were how much better your mouth feels, how no one can ever compare to how fuckin’ sexy y’are,” He rumbles, his hand is slipping underneath her hoodie and palming at her belly.

“Love you,” YN replies, reaching up to press their lips together and whine when his tongue automatically finds it way into her mouth.

“Been with you since I was fifteen. Y’know tha’? There’s a reason for that, s’because nobody gets to me like you do. You always make me crave more. The reason I put that rock on y’finger and y’name on m’bank account.”

“Bunny, please.”

Harry smirks against her lips, “Please what?”

“Fuck me, c’mon,” She begs desperately, his hand teasing at the waistband of her leggings but not giving her anything.

“Gotta give it t’you when you ask, s’my husbandly duty,” Harry kisses her again, hands moving to tug them down.

“Yes, be a good husband,” She scolds, getting on her tiptoes out of instinct as he slips two fingers up into her.

“M’tryin’,” He gruffs, hissing at how wet she is for him as he curls his fingers towards the front her wall to hit her spot, “Only one f’me. Never want anyone else, been an love-struck idiot for you since I was fifteen.”

-

After they finish, Harry presses the button to restart the elevator and they’re both panting, with a light sheen on sweat.

When they step into the foyer of the penthouse, Harry cups her face and makes sure he has her full attention.

“I love you. If this movie or me acting with other people romantically is too much for you. Please tel me, m’job is never more important than m’marriage,” He says seriously, face still splotchy from coming in the sticky, hot elevator.

She shakes her head, “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable - well, not when I’m thinking logically. I’m proud of you, I can’t wait to see the movie.”

“I love y’so much, sunflower. Y’my soulmate, the reason I have the courage and confidence is because of you.”

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”  He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”

[kiyosamu]

remember.

----♡----

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader.

genre: yandere, dark, light romance. // one shot, 4k words.

synopsis: abusive relationships can seem impossible to leave. when you open up to a classmate, your life takes a dramatic turn in the best and worst ways imaginable.

content warnings: assault, domestic abuse (not from suna), descriptions of violence, yandere themes.

----♡----

“hey, kid.” suna’s voice caught your attention as you passed by him in the university corridor. he was quiet, only speaking loud enough for you to hear right as you were walking by.

“hey, rintaro.” you stopped for a moment, refusing to look up at the tall man towering over you.

“i haven’t seen you in a while. everything okay?” he leaned against the wall and clutched a textbook to his chest. “you haven’t even been to class. kinda been missing my project partner.”

“you got my work though, right?” you asked him, partially covering your face with your hair. “i emailed it to you.”

“i did.”

“okay… good.” you cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling and offering a suspiciously sudden goodbye.

“hey, wait-" suna grabbed your wrist to keep you from leaving. the small amount of pressure more than enough on your deep bruise to make you wince.

suna noticed your pained expression and immediately let go, stepping back.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just wanted to ask you if-“

“it’s okay!” you interrupted, knowing you’d already spoken to him for too long. you needed to get out of there before anyone noticed. “you didn’t hurt me. sorry, i have to go. bye!”

your behaviour was erratic. your speech was rushed; forced and strained with every word as you tried your best to appear normal.

unfortunately it was much harder to pretend everything was okay than you’d originally thought it’d be.

you quickly turned and headed down the hallway to drop off the assignments to your other professor. the last one you’d have to see for the day before heading home. you were almost there. so close you might not even run into him.

you’d hoped, anyway.

----♡----

after seeing your professor, you walked out into the fresh evening air. the cold stinging your cheeks and the wind pushing your hair out of your face.

your cheeks burned from the freezing air, but it was your black eye was that hurt the most.

“i’m sorry, i just lost my temper.” his words echoed in your head, “you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”

you nodded, essentially agreeing with him. it’s true, if he didn’t get mad, he wouldn’t have hit you. and why was he mad? because of something you did. so really, it was your own fault.

you were the one apologizing to him that night. doing anything you could to make it up to him. all of this with a deep purple bruise forming on your face.

when he finally left your dorm and went back to his, you were mentally exhausted. you fell asleep and woke up right before your second class of the day.

he had started forcing you to miss classes, to do everything at home and only go in to submit your work. this was for two reasons.

the first, you could spend more time with him due to your schedules. if yours was freed then you’d have more time together.

the second was to stop you from talking to other men. completely.

...and then he found out suna was your lab partner.

“i don’t want you working with him.”

“i have to. the professor is the one who chooses.”

“then work from home and submit the stuff online. that guy is a manipulator. he’s dangerous and will take advantage of you. i just know it.”

you’d never gotten that type of vibe from suna, but you obeyed your boyfriend because you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t.

secretly, though, you missed class. you missed working with him. laughing, getting to know each other. he’d become a good friend over the past year and since you had the same majors, you two shared quite a few classes.

he was calm. funny and quiet, but definitely not timid. his energy made him come off tough, but not scary. if anything, he made you feel… safe.

just for those few hours you had together.

and whenever class would end, you found yourself missing that feeling.

----♡----

“i have to go to class tomorrow.” you said, refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend who’d invited himself over to your dorm.

just like he does every. single. night.

“why? you gonna go talk to that suna guy?” he approached you, giving you a terrifying smile that you know wasn’t coming from a place of happiness.

“yuji… please.” your words were barely a whisper when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat. “my professor told me i need to start going. my grades are falling behind.”

his fingers tapped rhythmically against your skin. dancing skillfully as he toyed with the idea of choking you. you held your breath, expecting the worst.

“you should try harder.” he growled, digging his fingertips into your neck and you clenched your eyes closed. “get your grades back up so you don’t have to spend any more time with that guy.”

“okay, okay!” you grabbed onto his wrist and his eyes widened. “i will! i’ll get my grades up so i don’t need to see him anymore.”

“good girl.” he smiled, the evil expression he’d previously worn had melted away into a false image of a kind man. “always listening so well for me.”

yuji leaned in and kissed you. you kissed back, barely, but just enough for him to be satisfied and leave you alone.

“time for me to go.” he sighed as he heard the dorm advisor do a final walk through to knock on the doors and let the students know it was time for guests to leave.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, tilting your chin up to look at him.

“sure…” you whispered. you trembled under his touch and wanted nothing more than for him to leave your sight.

“good. it’s a date.” he said happily and gave you another kiss, practically skipping down the hallway back to his own room.

you shut and locked your door, desperately wishing that was the last time you’d ever have to see him.

----♡----

“well, well, well.” suna cooed as you took your seat next to him. “as i live and breathe, i never thought i’d see the day. you finally made it to class.”

you nodded and pulled out your books.

“had to. my grades are slipping.” you sighed, looking around at the science classroom. “what are we doing today?”

“lab day.” suna said as he nudged an instruction sheet towards you. “should we put on our coats and get to it?”

“okay...”

you started to have an internal panic attack. your wrists were as bruised as the black eye you were hiding behind your hair.

suna stepped away to get your lab coats.

this would all be visible, and you didn’t want suna (or anyone) to see any of it.

you nervously approached your professor and she looked up at you with a disinterested stare.

“ma’am, i need to be excused from class today.”

“absolutely not.” she scoffed, “unless you want to fail my class, which i know you can’t afford to do, you’ll stay and do your lab.”

you opened your mouth to reply but she kept speaking.

“go put up your hair, roll up your sleeves and get your lab coat on. you should be thankful you have such a competent partner.” she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, “actually, i think the two of you should spend some time together. he’s my top student and you definitely need some tutoring.”

“i don’t think that’s necessary-“

“mr. suna, come up here please.”

suna walked up with a confused look, unsure as to why he was being brought in to the conversation.

“something i can help with?” he asked.

“yes,” the professor smiled, “i’d like the two of you to do tutoring sessions a minimum of twice a week, an hour each time. could you do that?”

“oh, sure. i don’t mind.” he smiled, “was that all? we should get to our assignment.”

you felt backed in to a wall. of course you were okay with this, you enjoyed spending time with suna.

unfortunately, you were terrified of the repercussions.

even worse, there was nothing you could do about it.

when you got back to your table, you put your hair up and silently thought of a plan. keep your head down, don’t make eye contact. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

you rolled up your sleeves and put on your white coat. it was barely long enough to hit your wrists, but did a decent job of hiding the bruises.

the first half of the lab went well. suna explained things in a way that made it easy to comprehend and you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

until you completely forgot.

you began to pour the green liquid into the tube. suna was writing his lab report when he looked up and noticed your mistake.

“oh, hey,” he stood up, putting his hand over yours to tilt the container back up. “you need to pour it slower, like this.”

when it started to pour just as he’d wanted, he let go and you found yourself missing the brief comfort of his touch.

“good job! you did it.” suna smiled and you looked up at him with an excited expression. finally. finally you were getting something right.

when the two of you made eye contact, his smile immediately dropped into a look of concern.

“what happened to your eye?”

“oh,” you stepped back, covering it with your hand. “i fell.”

suna carefully held onto your wrist and you winced in pain. his intentions were to move your hand away from your eye, but he took immediate notice of your reaction and pushed your sleeve down.

the bruises in the shape of fingerprints stained your skin a deep purple.

“what about here?” he stepped closer. you tried to read his expression but he looked completely emotionless.

“from the same fall, i’m just clumsy.”

“and your neck?”

suna pushed back your lab coat to see the same fingerprint bruises scattered around your neck.

you were suddenly thankful you’d chosen the table in the far back end of the classroom. nobody was ever watching.

“yeah.” you said, practically a whisper. “i’m just really clumsy.”

suna leaned down and looked into your eyes.

“why don’t i believe you?”

“five more minutes!” the professor called, interrupting your intense conversation and the two of you snapped back into action.

you finished your lab report and quickly packed up your stuff before rushing out the classroom door.

suna followed closely behind.

“it’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at him. suna’s expression was no longer emotionless. he was angry.

“okay,” you sighed, grabbing his wrist to pull him to a secluded space outside. the two of you sat down under a large tree, away from everyone else.

“yuji gets upset with me and… hurts me… sometimes.” you choked out. “i haven’t told anyone because i’m scared of what he’ll do to me. i haven’t left him because i’m scared of him. i’m stuck.”

you hadn’t said these words out loud to anyone, ever, and the way they were flowing so freely had you crying before you were even aware of it.

“please don’t tell anyo-“

“i’ll take care of it.”

you looked up at him. suna looked completely calm, his voice smooth and gaze held on you.

“what do you mean?”

suna stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

“i mean i’ll take care of it.” he smiled, “see you tomorrow afternoon for tutoring?”

“wait, suna-“

“later!” he gave you a passive wave before walking back towards the university building.

----♡----

that evening you waited for yuji to come by your dorm, but he never did.

you waited for him to call you, but he didn’t.

you worried about what suna had meant. maybe he was going to talk to him, maybe even threaten him. you’d hoped he wouldn’t do that, but you really didn’t know what he was capable of.

surely the rumours about him couldn’t be true. an honour's chemistry major being involved in a more sinister, underground group that nobody even knew if it was real or made up?

he was too nice. there was no way.

----♡----

after class you headed back to your dorm to get ready for your evening. suna had asked you to meet him under the same tree from the day before. around 7pm.

you debated on calling yuji, but ultimately decided against it. maybe he’d come to his senses. maybe he was remorseful, and just wanted to move on. to leave you alone and pretend your relationship never happened.

that was what you wished for the most.

----♡----

you stepped out into the cold evening air. the wind blowing softly and brushing the hair out of your face.

you clutched your books to your chest and took a short cut through the back fields separating the dorms from the main university campus.

you checked your phone, you were early. suna would be there in about 15 minutes.

you reached down to grab your phone when it was immediately snatched from your hands.

“you did this, didn’t you?” a familiar voice snapped at you. you glanced up to see yuji, sporting a similar black eye and a bandaged cut on his cheek.

“i- no, of course not!”

he rolled his eyes at your reply, clearly not willing to listen to a word you were saying. yuji grabbed your wrists, forcing you to drop your books and pushed you against the back wall of the university.

“you did. tell me right now. everything you said. who you said it to. and why.” the look in his eyes was horrifying. scarier than any other look he’s given you before.

this made it seem like his previous bouts of anger were nothing but minor inconveniences.

“i didn’t-“

yuji pulled back, immediately hitting your chin with a hard punch that knocked your head back into the concrete wall.

“try again.”

your vision was hazy. mind blurring memories together and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence.

you felt a warm, wet sensation cascading down the back of your neck and were immediately soothed by the feeling. the warmth was comfortable, even though you didn’t know what it was from.

yuji’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pressed his forehead to yours. his fingers dug roughly into your windpipe, causing you to choke out the remaining air in your lungs. you felt yourself get sleepy, closing your eyes and letting darkness overtake you as your body went limp.

----♡----

“hey, wake up.”

snapping fingers in your face had you looking around curiously. you couldn’t focus on your surroundings. it was unclear who was with you, unclear what was happening around you, and unclear why you were there.

the sounds of multiple men. grunting, panting. speaking quietly between deep breaths and harsh exertion.

what were they doing?

“hey.” the fingers snapped in front of your face again.

“what…” was all you could manage to say. your body felt heavy. weak. you were just so tired. all you wanted to do was fall asleep. you submitted to the exhaustion, closing your eyes again.

“don’t go to sleep.” a soothing voice lifted the back of your neck, pressing something soft against your head. “stay awake and listen to me.”

“ya like beatin’ up girls, huh?”

whack

“wanna put a girl half your size in the hospital, for what? to feel like more of a man?”

whack

“a real man would never hit a woman.”

whack

“a real man would beat the shit out of losers who do hit women, right ‘tsum?”

“right. maybe we’ll even put him in the hospital.”

whack

whack

“oh, he’s gonna be there once we’re done.”

you finally recognized the last voice. it was suna.

he spoke again, his voice raspy and dark but still audible from where you were.

“i hope to fucking god you didn’t hurt her so badly that she’s knocked out…” suna trailed off and let out a small chuckle. “because there’s nothing i want more than for her to hear you cry like a little bitch when this blade goes right…”

the sound of yuji’s sudden scream was immediately muffled by what you were sure was the hand of the other man.

“…through you.”

your eyes widened and you were starting to understand what was happening.

all you could feel around you was danger.

you started to hyperventilate. panic was taking over.

“focus on me. come on, we need to get out of here.”

“who…” your head started to hurt now. badly.

“my name is osamu.” he bent down and cradled you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and picking you up bridal style. “hold on to me if you can.”

“i’m scared…” you whispered.

“i know.” he murmured, carrying you away from the scene and back through the field. “i’ll keep you safe. we need to go to the hospital.”

“what about…”

“the only thing you need to worry about is stayin’ awake right now, okay? it’ll all be okay.” osamu’s voice was soothing. his body was warm and his strong arms supported your body in a way that made you never want to leave his hold.

you gave him a weak nod. even if you wanted to get away, you couldn’t. so you decided to trust in this man and hope for the best.

----♡----

“hey, sweetheart.” the calm voice of a nurse slowly woke you up. “you’re finally awake.”

“where…” you choked out, your throat was dry and you could barely make out where you were. it was all so… confusing.

“you’re in the hospital.” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to change the fluids on your iv pole. “you were assaulted. your injuries aren’t good but you’ll make a full recovery.”

the nurse leaned back down and held onto your hand. “you have a real knight in shining armour, you know. your boyfriend hasn’t left your side since you were admitted. he’s going to be so happy when he finds out you woke up.”

boyfriend?

your heart started to race at the thought of yuji coming in. you looked around, preparing for the worst when you heard footsteps enter the room.

“hey, sleepyhead.”

“speak of the devil.” the nurse smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “i’ll let you two have some privacy. please press the call button if you need anything, i’ll come back and check on you soon.”

the footsteps grew closer and you heard the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your bed. you opened your eyes to see suna giving you a compassionate smile.

“rintaro?” you whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“making sure you’re okay.” he crossed his arms, “been here since you were admitted.”

you tried your hardest to remember even coming to the hospital, but you just couldn’t. everything was gone after your head hit that wall.

“what… happened?” you asked, your eyes pleading for him to be honest.

“someone attacked you and your boyfriend.” suna leaned in, “do you not remember anything?”

“i remember yuji being upset with me…” you blinked, your mind working as hard as it could to remember something of importance. “my head hit the wall and it’s kind of fuzzy after that.”

“i see.” suna nodded.

“wait, how did you know i was in here?”

“some people mentioned an attack on campus. i got worried when you were late for our study session, and when your phone rang and you didn’t answer i felt like something was up.” he shrugged, taking a moment to think of his next words. “i called the hospital and asked if you were here, and then came right over when they confirmed it.”

“oh. okay…” you went to scratch an itch on your scalp and were met with searing pain at the slightest bit of pressure. “ow!”

“careful.” he smiled, taking your hand away from your head. “it’s gonna be sore for a while.”

“yeah…” you trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. “what happened to yuji?”

“why do you care?”

“huh?” you glanced at suna who’s expression had turned sour.

“why do you care about what happened to him? he could've killed you.”

“i just wanted to know if he…” your voice was shaky and you tried to compose yourself. “if there was a possibility of him coming after me again.”

“not a single chance.” suna leaned over the railing of the hospital bed and took your hand. “besides, even if there was, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

----♡----

you’d found out yuji had suffered from severe injuries almost taking his life. he was beaten, stabbed, and his spinal cord suffered so much damage he was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.

while you were relieved the abuse would be over, you constantly wondered who had assaulted him.

you remembered telling suna and him saying he’d take care of it, surely that wasn’t him, right? there was no way suna could do something like that.

----♡----

months went by while you recovered from your injuries. you’d been discharged from the hospital after 3 weeks, and suna had stuck by your side every day.

“i’m happy to say you’ve essentially made a full recovery.” the doctor smiled, shaking your hand. “i’m so proud of your progress. you’re truly a walking miracle.”

“what about my memory?” you asked, “when will i remember what happened?”

“oh, you might not ever remember. you hit your head hard and from what we gather, you were unconscious.” the doctor stood up, clutching his clip board before walking out. “it’s probably for the best that you don’t remember what happened. you should focus on moving on, now. take care.”

----♡----

“well, should we celebrate?” suna asked as you walked out of the hospital together. you stopped, causing him to turn and look down at you. “what’s up?”

“i just wanted to say thank you…” you said, feeling your face getting hot. “i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

“you could’ve. you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met.” he leaned down, brushing the hair out of your face. the same hair that used to cover the deep bruises, now showing your true complexion. “and the most beautiful.”

you felt your heart flutter at his sudden compliment. suna’s hands found your waist and you instinctively draped your arms over his shoulders.

“you really mean that?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“of course i do.” he smiled, leaning in to give you the long awaited kiss the two of you had been dying for. his lips were soft and you melted into his arms. he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “beautiful in every possible way.”

you felt tears well up as you were being complimented. the sweetest, kindest, most handsome man touching you so delicately and speaking to you with nothing but respect.

you'd completely fallen in love with him, and it was everything you ever could’ve asked for.

----♡----

a few weeks after the two of you made it official, your honeymoon phase was in full force. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. you were experiencing your first true relationship that made you feel loved and you cherished at every moment.

one evening, you decided to go to suna’s dorm to surprise him.

knock knock

“rintaro?” you called out, opening the door to let yourself in. “are you home?”

“in here, baby.” he replied from the kitchen. he was sharing an apartment style dorm with two other men, but you hadn’t met them yet. they weren’t ever there when you were.

“we finally get to meet your girl, huh?” one of them cooed as you walked in. he had dyed blonde hair and smirked at you as you walked by. “damn, she’s a looker, huh ‘samu?”

samu… why did that sound familiar?

“don’t be such a pig.” the other boy replied. you realized they were twins when he stood up and walked over to you. he smiled, holding out his hand. “nice to meet ya, i’m osamu.”

osamu.

no.

“my name is osamu…”

it couldn’t be.

“…hold on to me if you can.”

no, no, no.

the memories of the night of the assault came flooding back to you.

it only took a moment to realize...

...it wasn’t a random assault at all.

[starshipsofstarlord]

There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

[hanazuma-inactive]

Are you fine with top beta mreader and bottom alpha iwaizumi? Reader is model student in school and rumor tells that he is better than most alpha. Iwai who never interested about that kind of thing suddenly changed his mind when his inner beast screamed out for reader when he saw him in the library. That caught reader attention. So they have sex there, with Iwai trying hard to holding back his voice and he can only knotting at nothing when climax. After they were done, Iwai kinda light headed and Reader bridal carry him outside. I just think it will be cute 🐽

That's all 🛁

out of the ordinary (nsfw) top beta!reader x bottom alpha!iwaizumi

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: slight degrading, omegaverse, reverse roles, knotting (not really), public sex (sex in library), slight overstimming

a/n: i can't find any,,,good iwa panels help. but this was an interesting concept especially the last part. i also love iwa with my entire life please 🧎‍♂️ sorry this took so long because it's pretty long around 1.8k words

_____

you were an exception, someone who's out of the ordinary. being born a beta, people didn't expect much from you. they had no reason to believe that someone who was a part of 90% of the world population was capable of doing anything extraordinary. however you were there to prove them wrong. ever since elementary going into highschool your grades were always at the top of the class and in some cases in the district. everyone was surprised to find out that you were only a beta instead of an alpha.

your achievements were spread all of the school board and among your classmates. most people respected you and some wanted to be you. your grades weren't the only thing you had, your looks were at least above average and nearly everyone who saw you wanted to fuck you, or get fucked by you. except for one person, iwaizumi hajime.

the spiky haired boy was never interested in this type of stuff. in fact he is the only alpha in the entire school that hasn't tried to hit on you or asked you out yet. unfortunately this just so happens to be the one person you were somewhat interested in. unlike the other betas and omegas you weren't exactly submissive. sure you were nice and friendly towards other people but in the bedroom? all you wanted was to make an alpha cry out your name and cum from your cock. it was an unrealistic fantasy due to how your society functions but you've seen it happen before and you wanted to experience it yourself.

the more iwa didn't notice you, the more frustrated you became. you tried all sorts of things to grab his attention. "helping" him with homework, which he denied many times. inviting him to hangout afterschool, also denied. and even as far as behaving unlike yourself, none of the above worked and you were quite upset about it.

until one day, when you were just walking to the gym you overheard iwa and his friend oikawa qtalking about something.

"c'mon iwa we all know you were head over heels for him when he was performing that day."

"shut up, it doesn't matter even if i do, he has enough alphas and omegas on his dick, he doesn't need another one. so what if i want to fuck him, who doesn't? you did too at one point but he turned you down almost immediately."

"jeez! calm down you freaking porcupine. all i'm saying is, next time you two are alone, maybe give it a shot instead of avoiding him. he's the first person that ever got you feeling like this and it would be too good of a chance to pass by, don't you think?"

"yah yah whatever i got it."

so the two were… talking about you?. there was no way right?! the one person you wanted attention finally gave it to you. it might not have been directly but he admitted it, and that's all you needed to know. so all the things you were doing did work after all. you were excited but you needed to keep your cool for now, and figure out a way to get you two alone. little did you know he was going to come to you all by himself without you even lifting a finger.

you strolled to the library afterschool to borrow to borrow a book your friend told you to check out that you know you won't be reading. while searching for the novel, you heard someone open the door of the empty library. it was pretty rare for anyone to be in the library except during class time so you wondered who it could've been. you peeked over the bookshelves to find a spiky haired male trying to find a book as well. it was iwa, looking for a book in the dystopia section.

this situation couldn't have been better. you and iwa were alone in a place where nobody usually comes. it was the perfect opportunity to do what you always wanted to do. you walked over to the other section to greet him.

"yo! how's it going iwaizumi?"

"it's going fine… thank you, i'm surprised to see you here though."

"oh yeah haha, just checking out a book."

iwaizumi looked away and directed his attention back to the bookshelf. you were a little upset and while thinking about something to talk about, he spoke again.

"h-hajime, is fine...by the way." iwa said while his face flashed a bright red.

hajime? his first name? we barely talked ever and now you guys are on a first name basis? you didn't mind of course, you a little surprised that's all.

"alright hajime! same goes for you too!"

he looked away again, gripping the book in his hand.

"alright, fuck it." he murmured under his breath. hajime turned around to you and pushed on onto the bookshelf behind you. his hand holding onto yours and his face red as a cherry. you were a little startled but this stuff wasn't exactly new to you so it wasn't as flustering to you as it was to him.

"uhh, hajime? y-you alright there?"

"i wanna fuck you alright?! there i said it. i'm not expecting anything because i'm the last alpha you haven't rejected. but still, i want to try. so…what do you say?"

it was all going better than expected. all the things you've done to attract iwa was finally paying off! you were excited but you needed to keep your cool before completely losing it on him.

"sure! i don't see the reason not to~ but…we are going to switch it up a little bit." you said with a smirk on your face. iwa looked confused about what you meant by switching up, but now that the person he liked agreed to have sex with him, he didn't care about what's about to happen.

you grabbed iwa's arms and pushed them behind his back as you turned him around, reversing the positions of you two.

"w-woah, what are you doing…y/n."

"i've always wanted to do this hehe, fucking an alpha and making him beg to cum as a beta, someone who is supposed to be below him in society standards. what do you say hajime? is this still the sex you were looking forward to? or are you gonna leave me here all by myself?"

there was fear and anticipation in iwa's eyes, eager to find out what happens next. as much as he wished it was the opposite way around he didn't want to lose the opportunity in his hand right now. reluctantly, he nodded and agreed, gesturing to get on with what you wanted to do.

gaining the signal to start, you aggressively pushed your lips onto iwa's, reaching into his mouth and soon intertwining your tongue with his. the other male let out stubborn whimpers as the kiss grew to be more sloppy. soon you broke it, leaving him panting for breath and a dirty smile on your face.

you licked your fingers and reached into the back of iwaizumi's pants. at first he jolted a little, not being used to his ass being touched as an alpha. you then started to move your fingers into his asshole. going deeper inside, hajime struggled with the pain that no alpha in this school will ever experience. hajime's grunts started to become moans, you put in more fingers as you found his pleasure point. massaging it and doing all the tricks you knew on it to make him feel as good as possible.

it didn't take long till a wet spot started to form on his pants and his eyes became hazy. you took out the finger and let hajime catch his breath before preparing him for the real thing.

"w-what's next…" hajime asked

"just close your eyes, i promise i'll make you feel good~"

he trusted you and shut his eyes, latching on to your shoulder. you revealed your cock and lifted iwa up so that his face would be facing you and his plump asshole would be right above cock. iwa was nervous, you could tell and that was the best part about it. gently you put your cock into his ass. it was still rather difficult even with all the preparation from earlier. iwa let out a small cry as you entered him, not used to anything so big inside him, or anything at all really.

"f-fuck that hurts…"

"i know, it'll feel good in a bit, alright? bare with me here a little. i'm gonna start moving."

you didn't even put into consideration that this was iwa's first time. you went at a moderate speed, sometimes slowing down and speeding up. iwa's hard cock leaking with precum and bouncing up and down on yours. it was such a pretty sight seeing the alpha cry pretty tears from all the pain and pleasure. of course you felt amazing too, iwa's virgin hole felt better than your hand or anything your dick had ever fucked.

iwa used one of his hands to cover his mouth. attempting to stop the people outside of the library to hear his moans.

"hajime~ people are gonna hear us if you keep being naughty like this~" you said with a cocky smile on your face.

he didn't say anything in response, barely being able to comprehend anything while getting fucked.

"c'mon...look at you, an alpha? being fucked by a beta in a library. moaning like a slut in heat, i might as well knot you while i'm at it hm?"

speaking of knots, the alpha was getting closed with nothing around his cock. nothing for him to knot. his cock enlarged in size as he reached his climax but a face of disappointment appeared because of the empty area around iwa's dick. he didn't even think it was physically possible until today looking at it right now in front of him.

hajime had his fun but you weren't done yet. right after he came you continued to fuck him and stroke his cock to overstimulate him. after you came inside you noticed that iwaizumi had already passed out from the pleasure. his own cum spilled on his stomach and his ass filled with yours. you stood still for a while, enjoying the view of the sleeping prince in front of you. to make this more fun for the both of you, you decided to carry the alpha in your arms as if he was your bride.

you got a bunch of weird stares and murmurs from the students around you but you didn't care. all the reputation that you built up could fall into shreds but you could not have cared less. now, the only thing that matters is the one person you wanted attention from gave it to you and is sleep soundly in your arms.

[pingutats]

i just had such a good request for a fic. dom/sub dynamic with dom!harry where y/n is being spanked for misbehavior and she ends up crying during it because she feels like she deserves to be hurt, and harry stops immediately and there’s a lot of fluffy aftercare and physical affection

thank you for the request!! i know it took me a million years to get to writing this but finally did it... i know it strays a little bit from all the details of your request but i hope you enjoy regardless!

warnings: spanking, dom/sub dynamic, descriptions of anxiety (maybe don’t read if you’re in a weird headspace, it’s not exactly pleasant!)

word count: 1.7k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

As soon as Y/N hears Harry’s car in the driveway, she dashes from the kitchen to the front door like a kid that’s heard an ice-cream van. After the day of work at home she’s had, of redoing paperwork she’d messed up the first time and struggling through technical issues and communication errors over email—she just needs Harry so badly.

In fact, she’d texted him earlier to let him know. Quite blatantly. With a photo she prays he opened when there was nobody else around.

When Y/N opens the door for him he freezes, taking in her appearance. She’s wearing just panties and one of his shirts, her bare legs completely on display for him. His gaze sweeps up and down her body for a second, then he swears under his breath and strides in quickly. Y/N jumps back to give him room, waiting a few feet ahead in the hallway.

He shuts the door with his arm swinging back behind him, not even glancing over his shoulder to watch it close.

There’s a second of silence as they stare each other down, and it’s in this second that Y/N feels them slip into the roles of the game she’s been wanting to play all day. His eyes go from wide in shock to steady. Her head bows almost of its own accord, responding to the straightening of Harry’s shoulders after he drops his bag.

He inhales sharply through his nose and drops his keys into the bowl on the bench. “You’ve been doing this on purpose, darling,” he says in a measured tone. It isn’t a question. He won’t be asking questions now—she won’t have to think, she can just listen to him, let him take over now.

She plays with the bottom of his t-shirt that she’s wearing, pulling it up enough to reveal the slightly paler skin where her shorts would usually cover.

Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Come here,” he says, beckoning her over.

She considers refusing, just to be a brat, but it’s a lot easier to just go along with him now she’s getting what she wanted. She twists her hands in the t-shirt in front of her as she approaches him, averting her eyes from his as he watches her, suddenly vulnerable under his gaze.

When she’s close enough, he reaches out and grabs her wrists to yank her grip on the shirt free, pulling her off balance so the only thing that stops her falling flat on her face is his arms. She tries to relax into his grip, tries to let herself go.

“Been so fucking needy today. That photo — nearly had me getting hard in the studio right in front of everyone, love,” he says, squeezing her wrists almost painfully. “And look how you answer the door, nearly naked for anyone walking on the street to see.” He shakes his head, clicking his tongue condescendingly. “Do you want to apologise for anything?”

She looks at him, pretends to think, and then shakes her head.

He sighs. “Of course not, you little brat.” His grip loosens. “Alright then. Go upstairs for me.”

She blinks at him.

“I’ll be up in a minute. Go on.” He spins her around and nudges her towards the stairs with a gentle push.

She glances over her shoulder at him before she goes and he only raises his eyebrows expectantly. She’s almost tempted to pull the back of the t-shirt down over her ass to cover herself, but that wouldn’t get her what she needs, and what she needs is Harry to take care of her—so she keeps her head bowed as she walks up the stairs, adding a little swing in her hips with each step just as the icing on the cake. She smiles when she hears his deep inhale from the hallway as he watches her the whole time.

Upstairs, she sits on the end of their bed with her hands in her lap, scratching at days-old nail polish she’ll need to redo soon. There’s a knot in her stomach that’s been twisting all day, stresses piling up and morphing into some ugly feeling she can’t shake, not without Harry’s help. She manages to peel all the bright pink colour off her left thumbnail while she waits.

It seems like forever before she hears Harry’s footsteps up the stairs but when she does, she straightens up. The sound of the door opening makes her jump in nervous shock. She flexes her fingers, trying to calm her jitters. It’s Harry. She needs him.

“Being such a brat today,” he says when he’s finally in front of her. “Aren’t you? Don’t know how to behave.” He sits beside her, squishing her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. “Need me to teach you a lesson, hm?”

She nods at him, eyes moony. Yes, this is what she wants, needs from him—to let him take over for a little while, let him take out his frustration on her, help her let go of her own.

His grip softens a bit. “This okay, baby?” he asks more quietly.

She swallows. “Yeah.”

He leans forward and gives her a quick kiss. She feels like melting against the softness of his lips, pressing against her own, the mouth she knows so well. It’s a comfort in the mess that her mind is feeling like right now.

But he isn’t so gentle as he drags her over his lap a moment later, her face roughly pushed down into the mattress. His hand squeezes her ass, only barely covered by her panties, and her breath hitches.

“Count for me.”

“Yes sir,” she breathes, closing her eyes.

Her exhale is cut short by the force of his palm cracking against her skin, jolting her forward over his lap. The sting dissipates quickly, taking none of the tension inside her with it.

“One,” she says.

“Good girl.” His hand comes down on her again, harder this time.

She screws her eyes shut. “Two.”

It isn’t feeling like how she wants it to feel. She’s too tense, restless, her mind unwilling to float away under Harry’s touch. The pain, which usually is laced with something brilliant and exciting, is just pain today. But with all the mistakes she’s made today, all the things she messed up that have just added to her workload and her stress—maybe this is what she deserves. Punishments are called that for a reason.

So she stays where she is, her head lowered so Harry won’t see anything wrong. She gasps at the third, and it takes her a second to remember she needs to count. “Three,” she says, her voice shuddering.

Harry pauses and she fears she’s made him upset, spoken too quietly, taken too long—she can’t do anything right.

“Love,” he says. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder gently. “Are those good tears or bad tears?”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and in the pause, realises her cheeks are wet. “Um,” she says. Her voice shakes.

Harry’s arm snakes underneath her and pulls her up, manoeuvring her so she straddles his lap and he can see her face. The crease between his brows is deep as his eyes dart over her face, his thumb coming to her cheek to brush a tear away.

She leans her head into his palm that was cracking down onto her skin just a minute ago and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“What happened? When did it change?” he asks, his voice soft again, his character leaving.

She shrugs. She doesn’t trust herself to speak without crying more, and she feels stupid enough already.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, shifting so he can sit up straighter and pull her closer to his chest. He rubs her back, kissing her hair. “Let’s just rest for a moment, alright?”

She nods into his shoulder, hiding her face. His hand cradles the back of her head. The panic that she was feeling is dissolving into nothing. All day she felt so tense with so much twisting inside her, and she’d thought she could force it out painfully—she was wrong, of course, and now she feels awful for roping Harry into her misguided attempt to fix herself.

After a couple minutes, Harry taps her to get her to look up at him. “Why’d you want a punishment today?” he asks, without accusation.

She shrugs, raising her shoulders as high as she can and then letting them drop sharply. “Just felt like I needed it.”

He nods. He understands that sometimes she feels like this—needs to lose herself in playing a role for an evening, forget about real life and its responsibilities—because he knows the feeling too. She’s helped him in this way before. They take it in turns: give each other what they need, when they need it. “Wasn’t helpful today, though?” he prompts, his eyebrows raised sympathetically.

She shakes her head, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” he says. He smiles a little bit and a shallow dimple appears in his cheek. “That’s fine. It’s just a game. We play it whenever you want to, we stop playing when you’re not enjoying it. That’s important, alright?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Sorry.”

“Need to stop apologising, baby,” he tells her. “Just keep talking to me. I don’t want to hurt you.” He kisses her cheek and the gesture raises butterflies in her stomach, even still after all the months they’ve been together. It reminds her that he’s there for her, to look after her, to take care of her when she can’t do it for herself. His lips stay close to her skin as he asks, “How can I help, though, really?”

She buries her face back into his shoulder. “Dunno,” she says, her voice muffled. “Just need you.”

She feels his chin gently knock against the top of her head as he nods, his arms tightening around her again. “You’ve got me, baby. Always got me.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

thank you for reading! if you did like it, a reblog would be really appreciated as well as any feedback/comments you might have! you can find more of my writing on my masterlist.

[rcksmith]

Heaven — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Can I get 53, 31, 48 from fluff and 28 and 29 and 68 with heavy smut? Where Five is an emotionless Assassin from the commission and does his job without remorse or mercy until he meets the reader and he will do anything to make her his? And will kill anyone who gets in his way between him and the reader? If your okay with this!”

Fluff prompts:

31. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

48. “nothing else matters except for you.”

53. “There are no limits when it comes to you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

68. “Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good.“

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

My God, I loved it so much!! Thank you so much for request, I loved writing it!💖💖 I hope you like!

Guys, I really understand who doesn’t feel comfortable reading or writing Five’s smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, bad words, blood, murder, mention of death (and sooo explicit heavy smut), fluff too.

— — — — —

He was not a saint.

The trail of blood, bodies and the smell of death he had left behind could terrify even the strongest mind. He could get the devil to run.

He has already broken many bones, but none of them were his own. Once, there was an army, he was alone, and he broke many bones.

He was not a saint.

If there was a note for death and danger, it would be his symphony of life. Echoing and constant whenever the viscous and metallic liquid stained him white shirt.

Five Hargreeves did not consider himself a good person. But he didn't think he was bad too. He was just minding his own business. Even if it meant killing the innocent people that the Commission was ordering.

It was ironic. Five had been raised by Reginald to be a hero, to save people, and what he was doing was just the opposite. Was Needed cold blood, a focused mind, an objective.

Five had a closed and serious countenance. And in his case, the book could very well be judged by the cover, because Five it was also closed and serious inside. He It had the typical soul of a storm and a rough sea, where the wind blew with fury and the rain punished, while the sea was brutal and with aggressive waves capable of swallowing up a city in its entirety.

Anyone could see the warning sign hanging from his chest: "GIVE UP ALL THE HOPE IF YOU ENTER HERE." He was advancing with heavy artillery. Five was heavy artillery. The Commission considered he best of the best.

Five Hargreeves could get the devil to run. Nobody couldn't fool him, hook him, he wasn't a trout. He was a shark, dangerous and big. With a sharp and cruelly intelligent mind. Working in an equally sharp and cruelly intelligent environment.

But none of that bothered him. Five did not fear the fury of the Commission or its representatives. Machiavelli said that: you can only insult the other if you are not afraid of his retaliation. And Five feared no one. When angry, he had the same caustic look that Lucifer threw around shortly after The Fall. And it was a surprise that that look did not leave a trail of rubble wherever it passed.

Five did not liked what he job did, but it did not affect that he was very good at it. He had been anesthetized for years. Submerged in an inertia of emotions that not even the largest number of victims could tremble. He was already convinced that his furthermore emotions were buried as deep as possible in his soul of the troubled sea, lost. Such as Atlantida. Perhaps, like Atlandida, his emotions were a myth.

And Five had already accepted that. Even he sets eyes on you.

It was another routine day of that profane work: finding the target, shooting down, not leaving witnesses and leaving. And that was exactly what would be done. If it was not you.

Five was seated at one of the tables at a local Irish bar, the glass filled with cold beer set in front of him. The rays of the sun, from a year that he did not even care to know more about, were entering inside the large windows that overlooked the busy streets. People's humorous conversations filled that place with bright, welcoming walls, but Five felt none of it. Anesthetized.

But for some reason, when the door bell rang when someone came in, he raised his face towards the door and... his breath was gone.

The moment you walked through that door, Five knew it was hopeless for him. Your beauty was blinding. Sublime. Impressive. He felt as if his whole life had been wandering in the desert and finally found his oasis. Lepid, fierce heat swept Five's body from the top of his head with night-black hair to the tip of his feet.

You wandered your eyes around the place, and you seemed to find what you wanted because your eyes softened and you went towards your goal.

But just as Five was oblivious to the world because of you, so were you oblivious to the world, but for something else. And it was like this, oblivious, that you hit your waist on the front end of Five's table, causing his glass to swing and fall on the table, pouring all the beer on the floor. Five stood up quickly to keep from getting wet, but a few splashes of the cold drink had hit his suit.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry!”

You said promptly, trembling hands quickly lifting the glass from the table, your voice nervous and embarrassed. You righted his table while the waitress came to clean up the spilled liquid.

“I wet your suit, god, I'm so sorry.” And when Five noticed,your hands were drying the beer droplets with a napkin.

That was when the two of you looked at each other for the first time. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat.

Something inside him stirred and woke up, something that had been dormant for years. Sensations that had never before appeared now snaked through his body, waiting for the best time to hang him. Even with a layer of clothing and a napkin, Five felt the warmth of you touch, and he wondered if you had been forged in the sun.

Dangerous. The sensations you aroused in him were dangerous. And therefore, you were dangerous.

“It's all right.”

If it had been anyone else, Five would have burst. His moods were not one of the best and he felt that anything could set him on fire.

But apparently, not for you.

That afternoon, Five convinced you to join him, saying, whit charming, he would forget about the incident if you sat with him.

He tried to convince himself not to do that, that he should just give a mocking smile and leave. He had done this millions of times, and he knew it was one of the best ways to avoid headaches. Even so, the smile didn't come and he couldn't turn his back on you.

The sensations you stirred up in him were addictive, and Five was lost in a hurricane, trying to understand what was happening to him. But he couldn't let you go. Not without knowing his name.

But it took on proportions that he never considered. You were funny, witty, with an intelligent, warm gleam in your eyes. At that moment, while Five found himself really enjoying someone's company instead of just tolerating it, he felt out of his own body.

God, he was losing track of reality.

He had a job to do, a person to finish. The list was full but... but his body didn't order any muscles to move. It was like... while you were talking to him, with an extraordinary friendliness and ease of making friends, he felt alive for the first time.

Five had been alive for 25 years. But only now did he feel his own heart beat.

But when your time inevitably came, and you said goodbye and thanked you for the lunch that Five and you had — he didn't even remember how the situation got there. Since when did he have lunch with someone? — As soon as you left for that door, it took with you all the new feelings that were aroused within him.

Executing the target that day was weird, going to Motel's room was weird, and cleaning the blood was weird. There was something different, a shortness of breath, an itch in the palm of his hand, his body desperate for something he didn't know what it was.

Five Hargreeves stayed in that martyrdom for days, weeks. He was trying to understand his own body, his own mind. He felt he was losing his sanity and that the body, now that he experienced what it was like to be alive, repudiated the feeling of feeling dead.

He was trapped in some damn spell that you had cast on him. If Five looked in the mirror at the place of the chest you touched over his shirt, he could feel his skin tingle.

Fuck, he was losing his sanity!

The situation was stupid, he didn't need anyone, he didn't depend on anyone. But after the second week Five found himself returning to that bar again, feeling completely stupid to be looking for someone he barely knew.

What a stupid thing. He said to himself as soon as entered that place.

But that's when he saw you. With the bar uniform on, you hair tied up in a ponytail with a few strands dangling from your face, your chest slightly heaving, a pad of paper with a pen in hands. His heart skipped a beat, as if he found something he didn't even know was lost.

Five felt lost amidst a jumble of thoughts and reactions. But as soon as you saw him, with a smile was purely sincere and happy appearing on you lips and went towards him, the answers to all the questions that plagued him for weeks flashed in his mind like neon lights:

I want her.

He wanted you since the day he saw you. You were beautiful, with a maddening body, a sublime smile and the heat of a thousand suns. Now Five realized that had never wanted anything so desperately in his life.

Five thought he understood the desire: an attraction, a magnetic current between two people. He thought he knew what lust was: an intense hunger, a strong yearning. And he found out that he didn't understand anything.

For when you embraced him and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, the desire was a hot, black whirlwind that ripped you from end to end, with dizzying speed, and dragged you towards perdition, below any intellect. Five thought he was going crazy when he felt your heart beat next to his, in the same frantic rhythm. The same compass needed.

But Five was not going crazy. He wasn’t crazy when he saw your cheeks flush when he looked at you more carefully, he wasn’t crazy when he noticed your hands trembling slightly with his presence.

Were you feeling the same things?

Yes. And he found that out when first kissed you. It had been a few weeks since he had used, for himself, the excuse that he was going to that bar just to drink something and not to see you again.

But that was not how you two met that day

Five had just finished a job that did not end soo much great. A fight had taken place, and a bullet had grazed his left shoulder, tearing through the flesh. His clothes were flooded with red, thick, metallic liquid. His muscles ached and the wound stung like hell.

He was on his way back when the car popped loudly, the car stalled in place and smoke began to rise from the bikes.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Five punched the steering wheel, cursed the Commission for making such a damn fuck thing available.

He had just gotten out of the car when a car passed by and stopped.

“Five?” This time, his body throbbed for something else instead of pain.

He saw you get out of the car, your eyes shocked, the livid concern on your face, your hands shaking.

“My god, are you okay?!”

Five hated to appear that he was not able to deal with anything, but there was no plausible and peaceful lie to what you were seeing. You didn't let him make any decisions at that moment, you just stuck him in you own car, and when the chance of taking Five to the hospital had been vehemently denied by him, you ran the car to you own apartment.

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

You whispered to yourself, now at in your bed, closing the cut on Five's shoulder after he took a shower.

“I can do this.” He repeated it for the ninth time, but you shook your head.

But, while for you the situation was only for first aid, for Five it was torture in a very different sense.

Your touch was addictive, hot and fiery. Five didn't want to want you, but he did. He wanted you to beg for it too, so that Five could pretend to be in control. He wanted you to burn for him, just as he always burned when he was near you.

Under a light gauze, you covered the bruise on his shoulder, letting out a loud sigh that went to another very specific spot on Five's body. You asked for an explanation and he said that he had been mugged and reacted, but that the bandits had received what they deserved. He had to lie. At least for now. At least while he wanted you so much to touch him.

Perhaps this madness would pass.

But it didn't pass, your hands were still on Five's warm skin and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

He wanted you. Holy Mother of God, he wanted you so fuck much! The knuckles of his fingers were whitened, the strength with which he clenched his fists.

But you whispered his name under your breath, as if you too were trapped in that cloud of lust and passion. So it was the end. Five kissed you, hungry, desperate, as if he wasn't going to have a tomorrow. He pulled you around the waist so you could sit on his lap, his hands roaming your body, squeezing all the flesh he could touch.

“I was asking how much more time was take to you to kiss me.”

You whispered against his lips, with a mischievous smile on your face, your hands roaming through his hair as you held a sigh when he adjusted your hips under you. God only knows how long you've been dreaming about this guy.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” Five barely recognized his own voice.

This time, you who kissed him, your body burning in suppressed passion and desire, burning under the intense touch of Five. You hardly saw it when your shirt left, nor when you skirt went up until it was exposed to him. You whimpered, your lips going down to his neck and hiding your face there, squirming when his hand went up from your thigh to its pulsating center.

“Your skin is so hot. You were wishing for that, weren't you?” Five whispered, his voice hoarse.

You heart was beating fast in chest, cheeks were flushed, and Five brought your face up to look at him, lust bubbling in her eyes. You frantically agreed, rummaging you hips in him when you gasped. He curled his mouth over your left breast, groaning against your skin as you tightened your fingers on the back of his neck.

“F-five!” The liquid dripped from inside you to your thighs, and Five let out a loud moan of satisfaction when he saw it.

He raised his mouth to you, and, without kissing you, he sighed maliciously on yours lips: “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

After that point, everything became more crude. Five's touch on your waist gained pressure, marking your skin with purple marks on his fingers, his mouth bit and sucked on your breast, like a hungry man, and you were being driven crazy.

That's when two of his fingers entered you, deep, strong, opening your walls.

"Five!" You moaned loudly, your body hot under his lap, at the mercy of lustful desires.

“Shit! You are so tight!” His moan transcended between painful and angry, as if you were pushing him to the limit. “How are you going to put up with my dick, doll? You almost can't take my fingers!”

Five jerked his fingers inside you and hit rock bottom. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, the walls throbbing on his dick.

“Answer me!” His free hand came down on your thigh, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning loudly again.

“II am going to put up with you-everything.” You whined.

“How much?!” Five pulled your chin up to look at him, the hunger overwhelming his eyes, he's holding on as much as possible so he doesn't deal too badly with you.

Not yet.

“An-Anything as you give it to me.” You purred like a kitten "Fuck me hard, Five."

Oh you didn't say that.

His hand came down on your left cheek, letting out a soft slap and pulled your chin back at him, he jaw clenched by the effort he made to keep from fucking and hitting you so hard.

“Do you want it hard?! I will leave you without walking for days!” Five got up with you on his lap, threw you on the bed and slapped your thigh.

“Turn around!” He ordered in a snarl, removing his own pants, and as soon as you positioned yourself with your hips up and your face on the mattress, a hard, brutal slap made you moan loudly, squeezing your hands on the pillow.

The right hand wrapped around your hair, pulling your face off the pillow as Five positioned itself behind you.

“What you want?” He growled.

“I whant You fuck me hard!” God, you were begging, you needed him so much, you wanted him so much.

“How much hard?”

“Much! I want you to fuck me until I can't stay…”

Five came inside you brutally, pushing your body onto the mattress, making you moan loudly. He didn't let you finish, it barely gave you time to moan. As soon as he started to move, his rhythm became relentless, coarse, rude, forcing himself deeper inside you with each thrust.

Tears stung your face, you pussy throbbed in excitement, so fucking good that you felt like you were in heaven.

“What is it, lillet slut?” He pushed deeper, his voice arrogant and condescending, “Am I too big for you? For that tight pussy?” A slap went down your ass again, the other hand never coming out of your hair.

“F-fi-five! Please, I need this so much!”

The desperation in your voice did things to him, further igniting Five's desire to fuck you until he broke you.

“You were so tight! So. fucking. tight!” And you moaned and pushed him hips at him like you couldn't live without what he gave you. “Fuck, this is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted me to broke you!”

“Yes!” You screamed as he keeping fuck you deeper and deeper “Pl-please!”

Your voice was too much for him! Five's hunger snarled and roared like a beast, increasing the desire to get you so badly. He hit your ass hard, letting go of your hair and sticking both hands on your waist, pulling you violently to his dick.

“Say my name over and over again! And, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good! ” Five combined a deep thrust with the tug on his waist, making his dick reach your unimaginable corners.

“Five!”

“Higher!” A slap.

“Five!” One more slap.

“Higher!” Another slap.

“F-FIVE!”

His mouth went to your shoulder, his lips tightening there as he pushed himself deep inside you. You were very close, super stimulated, your legs were shaking, your heart was pounding.

Five was fucking you so hard that you could barely groan, giving you sensations that you never felt before. You came with a loud groan, trembling on his dick, losing your breath when Five sank to the bottom of the well and came there, filling you with his hot cum.

Five Hargreeves thought that after that he would be free of your effects, freed from that desperation that was always wanting to be with you.

But then again, he was deeply mistaken.

Everything only increased in unimaginable proportions. Jealousy came, the overwhelming sense of protection, the need to be with you. Now he not only fucked you hard, but he made a point of leaving you at work and picking you up at night.

And that's when you said you loved him. And his world has turned inside out once again. Five didn't respond right away, he was dumbfounded and bewildered, and you said he only had to speak when he was ready.

He love you? That question hung around his mind for days.

Five felt at peace with you company, relaxed with your touch, happy whenever he heard your voice. You were the only place he thought about going back after a hard job, after the day had gotten the best of him.

He love you?

That was when The Handler told him, in one day, that it was good that his new “pet” did not make him deviate from the Commission's objectives.

Five has never felt so furious in his life. He came as close to her as possible, making her look death in the eye, and said that if any hair disappeared from your pretty head, he would stop everything and kill everyone on that commission. And The Handler knew that Five was not bluffing.

That's when he found out that he loved you. That the idea of ​​seeing you hurt, even if it was a scratch, was unacceptable. And that's when Five realized that his world only revolved when you were with him.

“I love you.” He released that night, you were lying on his chest, watching some series on TV when Five cut off the characters' lines.

You looked at him in bewilderment, propping yourself up on your elbow to see him better.

“What?”

Five looked him in the eye, and in the most sincere and truthful way, he said: "nothing else matters except for you."

Your eyes filled with tears, and you kissed him as if Five were your whole world. In fact, he certainly were your world. But it was at that moment that he said he had to talk to you, and that's when he told you the whole truth.

Shocked would be an understatement to say what you felt at that moment.

It took a few days for you to digest the whole truth and several conversations with Five to understand what was really going on. You saw his powers, his briefcase, his life story. And Five knew, when the dust settled and you said that none of that mattered, that you really loved him.

“I just can't have anything with someone who hides things from me.” You said “ I understand the reasons why you didn't tell me before, but now I don't want any more lies between us.”

“None.” He smiled, and looked at you as if he finally understood that you loved him.

And it is logical that you noticed.

“ I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you." You laughed.

And in that moment, in that fraction of a second, Five realized that he would never be able to live without you.

“I'm just afraid of your job. Whether you get hurt or they want to hurt you coming after me and…”

Five didn't let you finish. He held you in his hands, your cheeks in his palms, and whispered, “There are no limits when it comes to you. I'll do anything to keep you safe. ”

[yourlocalmaraudersbabe]

Hiya! May I request a sirius x reader imagine where the marauders are all hanging out by the black lake. James or remus (probably James tbh) pranks the reader by throwing them in the black lake. What he didn't know is that they are scared of deep dark waters and almost drown and sirius saves them? Fluffy fluffy ending please?

I hope you have a good day!~

💜

“You’re right, nobody can be as lovely as me”

Summary: James thinks it’s funny to throw you in the water and Sirius is there to pull you out

A/N: omg look who decided to post :=)

Warnings: drowning/not be able to swim and there's like one swear word

Word Count: 1401

Masterlist + Characters and ships I write for

Requests are always open <3

Fluff Dialogue Prompt List

Join my taglist here!

“Please enjoy your dinner and relax this evening!”

You sat with your friends, directly next to Sirius while Dumbledore’s voice boomed through the Great Hall, food appearing down the table in front of you.

There were only a couple days left of your sixth year at Hogwarts, the summer holiday so close you could reach out and grab it.

“So what are we doing after dinner?” James asked.

You grabbed a spoonful of mashed potatoes, starting to make a plate of food for yourself. “How about we hang out by the lake?”

James quickly swapped his plate for yours, leaving you to give him a lovely middle finger.

“Prongs,” Sirius chastised as you laughed. You laid a head on his shoulder, telling him it was harmless.

Your boyfriend pushed his own plate over in front of you, urging you to sit up and eat.

James shrugged his shoulders, promptly digging into the wonderful food in front of him.

“Y/n,” Lily started. “I really like that idea. We can all go—”

“But y/n never swims,” Peter cut her off, nearly whining.

“Yeah, it’s not fun without you,” James added. “Why can’t you just go in for even a little bit?”

You glared at the two of them. “Absolutely not.”

Sirius grabbed your hand under the table, squeezing it before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “You better not have just gotten crumbs in my hair,” you whispered, shoving his shoulder.

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

You stepped outside, hand in hand with Sirius as the warm glow of the sun setting lay a blanket on the world around you. Your friends had already made their way out here, the only reason you two are arriving now is because of the boy next to you.

“C’mon, I need to go back to my dorm. I wanna bring a towel in case I decide to go in.”

“Well do you want to swim or not?” you asked.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he laughed.

“You are the most indecisive person I know, Sirius,” you took his hand, following him up to Gryffindor tower.

“Am not.”

“You are,” you laughed. “Well I’m deciding to lay out, maybe read a book. I’ve also decided that I’m stealing a blanket.”

“Hey, stop rubbing your decision making skills in.”

“Oh, and I’ve decided I’m stealing a jumper.”

He gave a dramatic frown.

You gave a quick kiss on the side of his cheek as he stepped through the portrait hole.

“Well can I at least pick which jumper you steal?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’d be able to decide which one.”

You spotted your friends and they waved, casting you smiles from the lake.

Sirius dropped your hand, skipping a couple steps to be in front of you, walking backwards.

“I have a question for you, y/n.”

“Ask away,” you sighed, a smile curling at the corners of your mouth.

“Be honest. Would you still give me a hug if I were to have just gotten out of the water? A kiss perhaps?”

You burst out laughing. “No. No way. Not when I’m perfectly dry.”

“Well maybe we’ll have to test out that theory.”

You deadpanned. “You’re hilarious.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

You spread out your blanket, lying down and soaking in what the sun had to offer before setting completely.

Sirius made his way to the water before the light had disappeared entirely. You closed your eyes, enjoying some much needed rest.

You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for, and it didn’t really matter now. All you knew that you were hovering over the lake. You had to be dreaming.

You couldn’t tell how high up you were, you were barely able to make out the silhouettes of your friends.

“Ha-ha, very funny!” you called out. “You can put me down now.”

James’s voice echoed up to you. “What? You don’t want to come in for a little swim with us?”

You looked down and saw his little grasp on his wand as he controlled how far you were from falling.

“James, please put me down on the grass.”

You could hear it in his voice. You could hear how he expected this to just be a harmless little prank of his.

“But it will be much funnier if you plop into the water. Just a small plink.”

He didn’t even give you time to respond before you were plummeting into the lake. Your friends were further away than they seemed to be. James had thrown his head back in laughter, ignoring you. Ignoring how fear took over your body, making it nearly unbearable to relax and just float. It was hard to breathe, you could barely even cough as you struggled to stay above water.

“James? What the fuck?” Sirius was at your side in a matter of moments, his arms wrapped around you as you clung onto him for dear life. You had gotten yourself into a coughing fit, as soon as you were steady afloat. You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were from embarrassment or genuine fear.

“I feel pathetic,” you finally whispered to Sirius as he swam to the grass.

“Everyone has something that gets to them like this. James didn’t know,” he whispered back while he lifted you out of the water, pulling himself up after. “Are you alright? Can you breathe okay? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”

You sat up, wiping at the tears from in your eyes, your hands moving to fumble with the grass blades in front of you. “I think I’m alright.”

Sirius called for a towel with a near perfect wordless spell. He caught it before it flew right into the back of your head, wrapping it around your body snuggly. He ran his fingers over your face, wiping away the droplets of water, pushing your hair back out of the way. “I’m really sorry about all this, y/n,” he said. “I wish I would’ve seen what was happening.”

The overwhelming feeling had pooled tears in your eyes. You slouched down, leaning into his side. “No, it’s alright. It’s not your fault,” you choked out a laugh, wiping under your eyes.

He took your hand, curling his fingers around yours, rubbing gently against the top. “Want me to go get James? Rough him up a bit?”

A smile crept upon your face. “No, it’s alright.”

A genuine laugh bubbled up in your throat. He hugged you tight, speaking quietly. “How about we go back up to my dorm? Get settled in some warm clothes?”

“I like that idea,” you said. “But only if you carry me.”

And that’s exactly what Sirius did. He carried you all the way up to his dorm, letting you change into dry clothes and slip under the covers first.

He didn’t take long himself, turning the bathroom light off as he made his way over to you. He pulled back the blanket atop of you for a brief moment before laying down and pulling you up against his chest with one swift movement of his arm. You turned your head upwards, opening your mouth to talk, yet failing to produce any words. Your voice cracked, tears appearing once more.

Sirius rolled you over, brushing the hair out of your face and wiping away the tears as they spilled over, muttering soft notes of reassurance. “You’re okay now, y/n.”

“It was really scary,” you whispered, the lump in your throat aching as you spoke.

“I know, darling. But look where you are,” he smiled, kissing your forehead sweetly. “Let’s focus on the present: you’re in bed with me, you’re in comfortable clothing, and you have a blanket to keep you warm and safe.” He tucked the material closer up under your neck.

“I’m right here. Nothing like that is going to happen again,” he trailed off. “I’m here to hold you, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed your nose and wiped away the last of the tears. You turned over once again, tucking yourself in his arms.

It was quiet for a mere moment.

“Hey, you’re sure you don’t want to get back at James? I could make a wonderful polyjuice potion over the summer. James would make for a lovely black dog I know of.”

You contemplated. “I don’t think James could pull off being that lovely.”

“You’re right, nobody can be as lovely as me.”

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