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firstofficerwiggles · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6: Where No Mando Has Gone Before

Link to Chpt. 5 -- For other chapters please visit my Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, Flirty!Din, Jealous!Reader, swearing, kissing, use of blindfold, groping (in public), oral sex (female receiving), explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), still pretty fluffy though

Word count: ~12.5K (I know, but it’s worth it I promise)

Author’s Note: This takes place on Angel One a matriarchal planet from Star Trek, the Next Generation. While that episode of TNG is honestly not good, I have been intrigued by the idea of that planet and always thought they could have done so much more with it. (Btw, I do suggest you look at the costumes from that episode because they are hilarious.) So anyway, I’m pretending that Angel One is in the Star Wars galaxy. Also, in this I describe the women of this planet as being taller, broader, and generally much larger than the reader. I always try to keep the reader as physically non-descript as possible, so just know that no matter how tall and broad you yourself may be, to these women, you are petite. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

For the third morning in a row, you awake to strong arms wrapped around you and the solid, warm body of Mando, or rather, Din, by your side. You’ve fully recovered from being shot, but Din has still been on high alert for any pain or discomfort that you could be feeling. He pretends to protest each evening that he should let you rest, before you easily convince him to climb into bed with you and cuddle all night long. Honestly, at first you thought he was just putting up with the cuddling to make you happy, but turns out, he seems to truly love it, as he is the one who continues to pull you closer any time you roll away in your sleep.

You’re lazily tracing circles with your fingers over his chest now as you think about him. He’s sleeping in a shirt and boxers, and even though you can’t touch the skin of his chest directly, you can feel his warmth easily through the thin fabric. He’s been so incredibly caring these past few days and he’s hardly let you lift a finger. Even when you’ve worried about him sleeping in his helmet and offered to sleep blindfolded so he could take it off, he’s dismissed the idea in favor of your comfort. Although part of you wonders if he’s still too nervous to consider taking off the helmet in front of you despite the presence of a blindfold or darkness.

You really are feeling so much better this morning, and you figure you’ll take over breakfast today. It would be nice to start getting back to your normal routine. You move to loosen yourself from Din’s hold and slide out of the bed, when you feel him stir and yank you back to his side.

“Where’re you goin’?” he asks you sleepily.

“I was going to make breakfast, and let you sleep a bit more,” you reply softly.

“Mmm, no, stay with me,” he says.

You shift a little so you can look at him more directly and tell him, “I’m so tempted, really, but you know someone else will be awake and hungry very soon.”

“Stay,” he repeats, “Wanna cuddle more.” You give in to him, and snuggle closer; it’s too hard when he’s insistent.

Din’s hands are starting to wander now, slipping just under the hem of your pajama top to caress your lower back. You let out a contented sigh at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“You must be feeling much better, if you want to make breakfast,” he says, sounding more awake, as he continues to trail his hands up your back under your top.

“I am, I feel completely better,” you reply confidently.

“Better enough to do other things?” Din asks with a husky tone to his voice as he brings one of his hands around to caress the upper part of your stomach, just below your breasts.

“I could do other things,” you say in a breathy voice; breakfast is now the last thing on your mind.

Din lets the hand on your stomach explore upward and over your breast, lightly palming you and teasing the sensitive tip. It’s been so long since a man touched you like this that it’s enough to make you moan softly. Din lets out a low rumbly sound in his chest and his hand becomes bolder, kneading you and rolling your hardening nipple between his fingertips. With his other hand, he pulls you in closer to him so that your hips brush up against his, letting you feel his arousal. Experimentally, you rock your hips against his, slightly grinding against him, drawing out another deep growling sound from Din’s throat.

“Been wanting to touch you like this ever since I got in bed with you,” he says.

“Me too,” you tell him as you let your own hands finally run up underneath his shirt and over the hard planes of his stomach and chest.

“You’re so soft- oof!” Din’s compliment is cut off by a sound of surprise and you realize why as soon as you see a little green head pop up over his shoulder. The sneaky kiddo has managed to climb up on the bed and his little claws must have grabbed Din’s arm to hoist himself up. Din immediately yanks his hand out of your top as the child meanwhile is crawling over Din’s chest to get to you. You scooch away from Din to make room for the little guy and also to discreetly put some distance between you two so that you can both calm down.

“Good morning, buddy!” You say a little overly cheerful, trying to come back to your senses. You look up at Din and mouth ‘sorry’. He just shakes his head lightly as he pats the child on the back.

“I think someone is a little jealous that I keep taking all the cuddles,” Din says with a chuckle, “Tell you what, I’ll make breakfast and you two have some snuggle time.”

“Aww, come here, buddy, and give me a hug,” you pull the child into your chest and kiss his wrinkled little brow. He lets out a series of happy coos making you laugh.

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

After breakfast, you get dressed and join Din in the cockpit where he’s putting in coordinates to a new destination. The child is sitting in one of the passenger seats playing with his silver ball. You come over to stand next to Din and look at the star chart he’s using.

“I’ve got an idea for our next move,” Din tells you, “But it will require us to carry out some deception for it to work.”

“Deception, huh? Well, I’m intrigued already,” you reply with a smile.

“I’ve heard from several of my guild contacts that the bounty on the child has increased,” he says concerned, “There’s also a bounty out on me too.”

“Oh, that explains the hunters.” Your voice is more serious now.

“It’s fortunate that no one in the guild will support the job, but although it’s an off-the-books bounty, the price is high enough that there’ll still be hunters after us.” Din explains.

“So what’s your plan and how can I help?” you ask.

“You’re an integral part of it, particularly since no one knows you’re with me,” he tells you, “Have you ever heard of a planet called Angel One?”

“No, never.”

“It’s a place that few people have visited,” he explains, “They have a matriarchal society and you’re only allowed to visit the planet if you’re accompanied by a woman.”

“Ah, I see, so no one will expect you to be there.” It’s a good idea.

“Yes, but there’s more,” Din says, “They’re very particular about whom they let stay on the planet for a visit, and from what I’ve heard they usually only let powerful or influential women visit for more than a day. Any potential visitors need to be fully vetted by one of their Mistresses to be allowed to stay.”

“Hence the deception; I need to pretend to be someone powerful or influential,” you respond.

“Yes, I thought you could pretend to be a princess and I’ll be your bodyguard,” Din proposes.

“A princess?” You reply, a touch startled by the idea.

“You’re as beautiful as a princess,” Din says, his voice flirtatious, “I’d definitely believe it.”

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes a little at him, “But, seriously, do you think I can pull that off?”

“Why not? You’re intelligent, well educated, and you seem to have a knack for socializing with people, you put them at ease and get them to trust you right away, I’ve seen you do it a lot.” Din compliments you in such a matter-of-fact voice that you find yourself thinking that just maybe you could do it.

“Well, and in your beskar you definitely look like a royal bodyguard,” you say thoughtfully, and then flirt back with him, “My knight in shining armor.”

He chuckles at that, “See, you’re already in character.”

“What if they notice that we’re…” you trail off and just gesture between you two with your hands. You’re uncertain how to define what you are, together? involved? You haven’t really discussed it.

“A couple?” he asks. Ok, so he’s defined it.

“Yes.”

Din thinks for a moment and then chuckles again deeply, “You’ll say I’m your consort.”

“My consort?” You snicker at his choice of words.

“Yeah, your consort,” he repeats, and you can swear by the tone of his voice that he must have the biggest grin on under that helmet right now. “I kinda like the idea, my job being to protect you and service your every, ahem, need.”

“Din, the kiddo is right there,” you whisper a little flustered at his suggestiveness.

“Come here, my princess,” he says playfully as he pats his lap.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” you tell him, but you move towards him anyway because you can’t help yourself.

He tugs you down to sit in his lap, “Oh, we’ve only just started having fun.”

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

The landing crew that meets you on Angel One is most decidedly not about fun. When you descend the Crest’s ramp, you are met with five of the largest warrior-like women you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are all broad, muscular, and statuesque, decked out in black and gold armor on their arms, chests, and legs, and wearing capes decorated with animal fur. Their makeup is like war paint and they seem to share Din’s love of weapons. You can’t deny that they are all fiercely beautiful and you suddenly feel insecure. Geeze, no wonder Din wanted to come here, these women look like a Mandalorian’s wet dream. You take a deep breath and tell yourself that you are a beautiful and influential princess. You repeat this to yourself a few times and steady your shoulders as you do.

You hold your head up as high as you can and address the women, “Good morning and thank you for welcoming us to your home. We hope that your Mistress will find us worthy of a visit.”

One of the women nods to you as she says, “Right this way Your Highness, Mistress Lagertha is expecting you.”

You follow the woman as she leads you into a large governmental building. Both Din and the child follow behind you allowing you to be the more prominent figure in your little party. The building is a very grand stone structure with sweeping columns and polished stone floors. The furnishings are mostly dark, grey and black with a few metallic accents. You pass several people, all women, who stop to stare at you as you walk down the long corridor. When you reach the end of the passageway, you are ushered into a large office where you see a majestic blonde woman. While this woman is not wearing armor, she exudes power and once again, you are dwarfed by her size. She rises from her desk when you enter and offers you a small half bow.

“Welcome, Your Highness, please have a seat and we will begin the interview.” She pointedly addresses her welcome only to you as if Din isn’t even present. You approach her desk and the proffered chair, while he remains quietly by the door with the child’s pram.

“Thank you for being willing to speak with me, it’s an honor to meet you, Mistress Lagertha,” Now that you’re both seated you feel a little more confident as it’s easier to look her in the eye.

“It’s very interesting to meet you,” she says with a smile, “I’ve never seen an off-worlder before.” She looks over your appearance carefully. In helping to perpetrate your ruse, you’re wearing a summer dress in a pink floral fabric. The dress has a long swirly skirt and it seemed like the most princess-y thing you owned. You’ve also taken extra care to do your hair and make-up in a slightly fancier style. You even took the time to dress up the child as your little ward, wrapping a brightly colored scarf around his tunic like a sash and pinning a costume jewelry broach to it. He seemed to like it, once he stopped trying to bite it. Of course, Din is handsome as always in his well-polished armor and you think all together you should be able to fool these people who haven’t seen many real royals.

You’re surprised when she starts to laugh lightly after looking you over. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to look so manly.”

“Excuse me?” Your confusion could not be more evident as you look down at yourself. This is quite possibly the least manly you’ve ever looked.

“Well, I knew you would be small, those who’ve seen off-world women have always described them as small, but the pastels, the flowers, even your make-up, you look like one of our men.” She chuckles again lightly.

“Ah, I see,” you reply trying to keep your face neutral, “Where I come from, this would be considered very feminine.” She smiles widely at this and laughs again. Well, if anything you’ve certainly broken the ice.

“That’s hysterical!” She says, delighted, “Plus your man is wearing armor! I’ve never seen such a thing.”

Oh Maker! You really wish she wouldn’t laugh at Din. To his credit, Din makes no reaction whatsoever; he’s doing his silent suit of armor thing again.

She asks you a long series of biographical questions most of which are very easy to answer and require little to no lying at all. Thankfully, you and Din practiced speaking about your invented past and so when you do need to be untruthful it comes out naturally. The only time you feel you really slip up is when she asks you about your views on the New Republic.

“Well, clearly there is much we can learn about your culture and so much that we can share with you about ours,” you say diplomatically.

“I support the New Republic, but I wish they would be more persistent in going after former Imperials. There are still too many evil men out there wreaking havoc in the galaxy.” You can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice and you know you’ve dropped your polite expression in favor of a frown. Uh oh, probably should have given a more politically neutral answer.

Fortunately, Mistress Lagertha says, “A very good point. Men seems to be particularly bent towards doing evil.”

While you can’t agree with that blanket statement, it seems better to simply nod and continue with the interview. For the rest of the time, you try to be your most charming self and it seems to work, because you’re starting to feel like she’s almost a friend the more you converse. When she gets to the part about the reason for your visit, you have a more elaborate answer about cultural exchange prepared, but she says,

“Of course the reason for your visit must be the Jubilee of Astrid which begins this evening. It’s our most sacred and special time, and the most common time for off-worlders to request a visit.”

“Yes, I would be truly honored to be able to experience your sacred celebration,” you say in an awed tone. You have no idea what she is talking about, but this is clearly the answer she expects to hear.

“I understand as a princess there must be certain pressures on you, especially from familial demands,” Lagertha says.

“Yes, there are,” you agree with her demurely, but still clueless as to what she’s getting at.

“Well, you can be certain to have your prayers answered while you are here, and enjoy yourself immensely! May Astrid bless you!” She gives you a cheeky grin as she says this and her eyes flick back to Din for the first time in quite a while. “Incidentally, if your man isn’t up to the task, I’m sure we can find you a man who will find your uniqueness appealing.”

“I assure you that won’t be necessary, my guard is always prepared for any task,” you tell her. You’re still not sure of her meaning, but there’s something in the gleam in her eye that tells you that you only want to be with Din for whatever ‘tasks’ are involved in this holiday of theirs.

“Well, that’s good then.” She’s smiling at you again and then extends her hand, “Welcome to Angel One, we would be honored to grant you permission to stay on our planet for as long as you like.”

You grasp her large hand in your smaller one and give her a beaming (and relieved) smile as you thank her. You’ve successfully secured your visit.

A communication device on her desks beeps and she presses a small button, which allows a voice to state, “Mistress Sigrid wishes to meet the off-world princess.”

“Thank you, Brenna, please let her know that we’re ready for her at any time,” Lagertha replies. She then turns her attention back to you as she explains, “Mistress Sigrid is our leader, the Elected One, and I must confess she has been monitoring this meeting.” You nod and smile, it doesn’t surprise you really, considering how cautious they are about visitors.

“I am delighted to have the opportunity to meet her.” You hope this is a sign that you’ve made a good impression if their leader wants to say hello.

A door in a side wall opens and a stately woman enters. You rise to your feet out of respect as she approaches. She’s older than Lagertha but still moves with the athletic grace of a younger woman. Like the other women you’ve seen here, she is striking with shrewd eyes and a small scar on her cheek that adds to her mystique rather than marring her beauty.

“Your Highness, how lovely it is to meet you,” Mistress Sigrid greets you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“It is a pleasure, Elected One,” you reply, craning your neck to meet her gaze, as once again she is incredibly tall.

“I must say I have never seen or heard an off-world woman quite like you before,” she tells you with respect, “The others I’ve met have been rather anxious and shy, and so easily intimidated.” She dismisses them with a wave of her hand.

“It is a shame you haven’t met more off-world women then, many are quite strong and accomplished. Perhaps while I am here, I can demonstrate how capable we can be,” you reply. The way she says that irritates you immensely but you know you need to stay overly respectful towards her and so you swallow any other comments you’d like to make.

She laughs warmly at your response, “See, I knew I liked you already! You have a spark about you.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“And this is your little ward, hmm?” She walks over to the child who is starting at her with big eyes and a slightly wary expression.

“Yes, my guard rescued him and he is in my care.” You follow her over, reach down into his pram to pick him up, and hold him so she can see him better.

“Hello, tiny child,” she says to him, “Aren’t you a cute little thing?”

He looks mesmerized by her for a moment, and then is suddenly shy, turning his head into your chest. She merely chuckles and you gently place him back in his pram and hand him one of his stuffed toys to hold.

“Shame he’s a male though,” she comments. You don’t know how to respond to that terrible statement and so you elect to simply stay quiet.

“And this is your bodyguard, a Mandalorian.” Mistress Sigrid approaches Din now looking him up and down with curiosity. “I’ve never had the fortune to see a real Mandalorian, I’ve only heard stories,” she says with interest. It’s the most attention anyone has paid to Din this entire time.

“What do you call him?” Mistress Lagertha pipes up.

“Mando,” you tell her, knowing that you can’t share Din’s real name with anyone.

“Mando, will you turn around, I’d like to look at you,” Mistress Sigrid says, speaking to him directly. Something about her tone of voice rubs you the wrong way and you’re fortunate that she’s looking so intently at Din because you fail to hide your displeasure on your face.

Din complies with her request, rotating so she can look at him. He had heard that the women openly objectify the men on this planet and so he knows this is the type of treatment he can expect. It doesn’t really bother him too much as he’s used to people staring at him no matter where he is. He knows Mandalorians are unique and the beskar will always draw attention. He has to bite his lip though to keep from laughing at your expression as Mistress Sigrid ogles him. You look positively jealous.

“That is sufficient, Mando.” The Elected One seems to have gotten her fill.

“Mistress,” he replies softly.

“So unusual to see a man so large and wearing armor,” Mistress Sigrid is turning back towards you with a smile and a little shrug.

Din sees that you’ve managed to paste a bland smile back on your face as you tell her, “I’m so accustomed to it that it would be odd to see him in anything else.” He catches your eye and gives you a nod. It’s the only thing he can do to reassure you that everything is going well. Honestly, he’s so thankful that you were able to do all of the talking for this meeting. You handled all the questions so well and he knows you were able to be charismatic in a way he doesn’t think he ever could. It’s a real credit to your communication skills, especially as Mistress Sigrid is now inviting you to stay at the Elected One’s state residence.

“That is very kind of you, Mistress Sigrid,” you say, “But we wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble on our behalf.”

“Nonsense, it will be delightful to have you there,” she replies, “You will be my special guests for the Jubilee. I do hope you have something red to wear, it is the official color of the celebration.”

“As a matter of fact, I have just the dress,” you tell her.

Mistress Sigrid arranges for two of her staff to accompany you back to the Razor Crest so you can collect your things before they will take you to get settled at the state residence.

“I’ll see you tonight at the opening gala for the Jubilee, and may Astrid bless you!” Mistress Sigrid says before bidding you farewell for now.

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

The state residence is an elegant mansion and you have to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a princess and so you shouldn’t be overly impressed by any of this. Still you can’t help letting your eyes wander over the beautiful furnishings and art. The mansion reflects much of what seems to be the core beliefs for this society, that women are strong fighters who have accomplished great things, while men are beautiful decorations. You haven’t seen any men in person yet, but in the artwork, they are portrayed as soft and fragile looking creatures with dainty features dressed primarily in flowery pastels, just like you at the moment.

Every woman you pass still stops to openly gawk at you and now you are even hearing laughter accompanied by hushed voices no doubt discussing your odd appearance. You try to ignore it, but you’re not used to being assessed like this so much. You look over to Din and wonder if this is what it’s like for him on a daily basis, not that people laugh at him, of course.

When you reach your room at the residence, you are astonished by the grandeur of the accommodations you’ve been given. Your ‘room’ is actually a large suite with a sitting room, bedroom, and elegant bathroom. After briefly showing you around, Mistress Sigrid’s staff finally leave you alone to rest and relax before the grand gala tonight.

“Thank the Maker!” you say flopping onto the giant four-poster bed. “I feel like I’ve been under a microscope this whole day.”

“Yeah, they really seem quite fascinated by you,” Din says chuckling. He hands the child a piece of fruit from the generous buffet of treats the Mistress’ staff has provided for you. The little guy chomps down on it quickly and you smile at his cuteness.

“I’d say they’re fascinated by us, or at least Mistress Sigrid sure was,” you say still a little miffed at the way she practically undressed Din with her eyes.

Din laughs again, “Your face when she was making me turn for her nearly had me in stitches,” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask sitting up to look at him better.

He walks over to you and cups your cheek in his hand gently, “You looked rather jealous.” His voice is still full of mirth as he says this and you get the impression that he liked it, at least a little.

“I didn’t like the way she was treating you like an object,” you say reproachfully, but then you look up more directly at him, “Ok, but fine, maybe I was jealous too,” you admit.

“Cyar’ika, you don’t have to be jealous,” he says, “But it is kinda cute.” He’s still chuckling as he steps in between your legs and his hands move to your shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

“It’s hard not be when they’re all insanely giant, stunning, war goddess women,” you reply. Looking up at him thoughtfully, you say, “Seems like that would be just the kind of woman a Mandalorian would find incredibly attractive.” You can’t help the note of insecurity in your voice as you say that.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Not this Mandalorian, besides, I’m already with the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.” He taps your nose playfully as he says this and you smile back at him.

“You really do say the sweetest things, Din.”

“Only to you, cyar’ika.” He replies and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The sound of inquisitive coos interrupts your conversation, and you look over to the child. “Maybe they’ll let us visit the gardens for a while. I think the kiddo could use some fresh air.”

“That’s a good idea, especially because it sounds like our entire evening is already planned with their gala.” Din nods his head as he says this.

“I’m just going to change first, maybe if I put on something black they won’t stare as much,” you tell him.

“Ok, the kid and I’ll wait in the other room.”

You take a moment to hang up your gown for tonight as well as your black dress that you thought to bring too. You put a few of your other things away in the dresser in the room to help keep them organized, when you find a few things that have been provided for your stay, some soft robes, slippers, and a couple black satin sleep masks. Your mind instantly goes to a naughty place as you feel the soft material between your fingers. You slip it on over your eyes, blindfolding yourself completely.

“Hey, Din, come here and look what I found,” you say playfully. You hear him come back into the room.

“What? Oh.” Din’s voice seems to drop several octaves with just that one small sound. “Can you see anything with that on?”

“Not a thing,” you reply.

“Stay there and keep it on,” he tells you and you hear his footsteps approaching you until you can feel that he’s right in front of you.

“You really can’t see anything?” Din asks again.

“No, I promise.”

You hear a soft hiss followed by a metallic thunk on the dresser behind you. Then you feel Din pull you in close to him and he lowers his face towards yours, letting his bare forehead touch yours for the first time. He nuzzles into you more, letting his nose caress yours and then you feel his warm breath against your lips.

“May I kiss you, really kiss you?” Din asks his lips practically brushing against your mouth with his question.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

His lips melt into yours in a sweet kiss as his hands come up to rest on either side of your neck. He seems just a little hesitant, so you slowly start to move beneath him, guiding. He follows your lead, letting his lips explore more. You part your lips slightly so you can tease his plump bottom lip in between yours. He parts his lips when you do this and daringly, you let your tongue lick into his mouth just slightly. His reaction is immediate, as he opens his mouth more to give you greater access. You deepen the kiss and brush your tongue against his. He groans deep in his chest when your tongues meet and he pulls you in tight to his body. You let your hands roam around the back of his neck and into his soft hair. You’re kissing him passionately now, showing him what you like. Din’s response is enthusiastic, as he chases your lips and tongue wherever they wish to lead him. Just before you pull away to catch your breath, you give his bottom lip a suck making him groan again.

“Is kissing always this great?” Din pants out.

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I think it must you.”

“It’s us,” he says before capturing your lips again. This time he teases you with his tongue and tries sucking your lip the way you did to his. It draws out a moan from you; he’s clearly a very quick learner.

A sudden crashing sound from the other room reminds you both that you’re not alone and that you promised the child some outdoor fun. Din groans softly before giving you one more quick kiss and then pulls away from you. You feel him reach for his helmet as you try to take a deep breath and collect yourself.

“Ok, you can take off the mask now,” he says, “But, put it somewhere safe for later.”

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

After a nice afternoon spent exploring the mansion’s lush gardens, followed by a hot cup of tea and several delicious snacks that were thoughtfully provided, it’s time to get ready for the gala. You already know you’ll wear your new red gown, but you decide to go more avant garde with your hair and make-up to hopefully create a better impression on the women tonight. It’s a good look, but something is missing that will give you a certain edge that you want to achieve. You look through your meager jewelry collection but nothing gives off the right vibe. You look over to where the child is playing with Din and you have an idea.

“Buddy, can I borrow your mythosaur for tonight?” You ask the little one. He smiles up at you and gives you his happy coo. You gently take the necklace off him and drape it over your head. The silver pendant comes to rest just above your cleavage, and it’s perfect, much better for the darker image you’re trying to achieve.

You turn with a flourish towards Din, “Well, what do you think? Still a princess but maybe more to the standards of this place?”

Din cannot respond to you because his mouth has gone completely dry. He thinks you look outstanding in that sexy dress that he bought you and then, it’s made even better because you’re wearing his mythosaur around your neck. Fuck! He looks at it sparkling against your bosom, it’s like you’ve put on a giant sign that says you belong to him. It creates a primal reaction in him and it’s taking all his self-control not to grab you and claim you as his right now.

“Din? Is it too much?”

“No, I like it,” Din practically growls at you, “I like it so much, I’m thinking I’d like to pull you back into that bedroom and show you how much I like it.”

“Di-in,” you stretch out his name as you can feel your cheeks blazing with his praise and it makes you giggle a little. He’s never been so outrageously direct like that before.

“I’m serious,” he says, “That’s how good you look. In fact you better pick up the baby to keep me in check.” He’s teasing you now, but his voice still sounds predatory. Your heart is racing and he’s making you feel lightheaded.

“Stop, you’re being naughty,” you flirt back at him, but you do pick up the child in any case. As much as you’d much rather stay in the bedroom with him, you know you have an obligation to go to this gala tonight. And as if on cue, there is a knock at your door.

Mistress Sigrid is there and for the first time, there are men with her. The men are much smaller in stature, dressed in soft pastel colors and wearing make-up that resembles what you had on earlier today. You notice that one of the men is more conservatively dressed, while the other is wearing a rather revealing outfit with a dramatic deep vee neckline that practically screams ‘boy toy’. You’ve never seen anything quite like it. Both men clock you with big eyes and smiles, like the women, they appear to be amused by you too, only at least they don’t laugh out loud. When they glance at Din, however, their smiles falter and they seem taken aback at his presence. You wonder if Din looks somehow feminine to them going by their standards. Your thoughts are interrupted by Sigrid before you have more time to consider the men.

“Good evening, Your Highness, you look festive,” she says, but from her tone it doesn’t exactly sound like a compliment. She is also wearing red, but instead of a gown, she has on a sharply tailored suit, almost like a red tuxedo.

“Thank you.” You just smile at her diplomatically.

“Gregor is here to collect your little ward for the evening to take him off to the nursery to play with the other children and provide him with a nice place to sleep for the night.” She motions to the more conservatively dressed man who is smiling and waving at the child.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting that, he usually just accompanies me everywhere,” you respond. Although Gregor seems nice enough, you feel reluctant at leaving the little guy with someone else.

“Nonsense, you don’t want to bring a child to the gala tonight. It isn’t done.” Sigrid declares.

“Well, I need to see the nursery first, before I decide if I’m going to let him stay there.” You want to be certain you and Din know exactly where the child will be and how to get to him quickly in case of an emergency.

“I suppose,” Sigrid sighs, but then she smiles at you again, “There’s that feisty spark I saw in you earlier.”

Gregor motions for you to follow him, “This way Your Highness,” he says in a shy voice.

“Gregor, do you take care of many children?” You would like to know more about his background.

“Oh, yes, I am the nanny for all of the mistresses on the High Council for any of their children under age 5.” He smiles warmly at you, “They will all be there tonight too, so your little one will have plenty of other children to play with; there’s about a dozen all together.”

“Is it just you taking care of all of the children?” That seems like too many for just one person.

“No, no, I have three assistants too,” Gregor says, “You’ll be able to meet them at the nursery.”

You continue to pepper Gregor with questions about childcare and the nursery and he seems positively delighted with all the attention you’re paying towards him. You sometimes hear Sigrid let out a sigh as if she finds the entire conversation boring, but you don’t care, after all the child is your primary priority. When you arrive at the nursery, you can see that everything is quite nice and it does seem like a safe place for the little guy to spend the evening. You kiss him goodbye and Din pats him on the head and gives him a soft reminder that he should be on his best behavior.

“Oh isn’t that cute!” The boy-toy guy coos as he watches you and Din say goodnight to the child. It’s the first you’ve heard him speak.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you your name earlier,” you say to him as you’re leaving the nursery, “I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just very focused on the child, you understand.”

“Well aren’t you sweet, Your Highness,” he says beaming at you, “I’m Trent, I’m Mistress Sigrid’s lover.” He seems very proud of that fact.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Trent,” you reply with a nod. You slip your hand around Din’s elbow deciding that they already seem to know you two are a couple, so you might as well feel free to show a little affection. You tilt your head towards Din as you say, “This is Mando.”

“I know,” Trent says giggling a little, “The man in armor, it’s so shocking.” Trent sounds both amused and a little scandalized. “It’s super nice to meet you, Mando. I can’t wait to hear more about you and your princess at dinner. You’re all anyone is talking about.” He winks and flashes his dazzling white teeth.

“Nice to meet you,” Din says. His voice and body language don’t give anything away but you wonder if he’s a little taken aback by Trent’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, the men will have plenty of time to get to know one another during the feast since they’ll be sitting together at their table,” Sigrid explains, and then addresses you directly, “You’ll be with me at the head table with all the other mistresses of the High Council.”

“Oh, you don’t sit together as couples?” With the insinuations that Mistress Lagertha made earlier about the Jubilee, it seemed like this was going to be an event for couples or at least dates.

“Not during the dinner,” Sigrid tells you, “It gives us women time to have serious discussions while the men can chatter about lighter things. Trust me, your Mando will have a much better time conversing with the other men. He won’t miss you at all.” You doubt that, but say nothing and simply grip Din’s arm a bit tighter as a way of silently communicating with him.

“Besides,” she continues, “You’ll have plenty of time to sit together during the entertainment.”

“Ooh, it’s going to be so good this year too,” Trent says, “My best friend is one of the performers and he’s been filling me in on all the juicy details. I’ll tell you all about it, Mando.” Oh my, seems Din’s made a new friend already.

“Just be sure you don’t spoil it for him though, Trent,” Sigrid says patting his shoulder.

“Oh, I won’t,” Trent beams up at her. He reminds you a bit of an eager puppy just so happy to please her in any way.

At last, you come to a large room festooned with red, black, and gold decorations and several round dining tables. The table in the middle of the room is the biggest and it is raised up on a dais so that it is more visible across the entire room. There are several people milling about with glasses of wine and a few servers passing appetizers throughout the space. You’re thankful to see that several of the women are also wearing red gowns, so at least you’re not the only one in a dress. But once again, your attire is much more feminine by your standards. Where your gown is more revealing and designed to show off the curves of your figure, theirs have long sleeves and high necklines designed to showcase their muscular frames. The men are almost all dressed like Trent in soft pastels of varying colors with revealing tops that show off their chests and very tight pants that show off other assets. As you enter the room with Mistress Sigrid, a gong sounds to announce your arrival and every eye that wasn’t already staring at you is suddenly on you as a hush comes over the room.

“Good Evening, all!” Mistress Sigrid’s voice booms out, “I am pleased to welcome you to this year’s opening gala of the Jubilee of Astrid, may she bless you all!” Cheers and applause follow this statement. Sigrid holds up her hand and waits for everyone to quiet again.

“Tonight we welcome our special guests, a princess and her Mandalorian!” Polite applause follows this along with several whispers and small bouts of laughter. You smile placidly at the room and nod your head in greeting.

“Take your seats and let’s begin the feast!” Sigrid announces and the cheering and applause build back up.

“C’mon, Mando I’ll show you where our table is,” Trent motions.

“Just a moment,” Din replies, before turning to you and dropping his helmet to your forehead, his voice is low so that only you can hear it as he says, “Have a good dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I’ll see you later,” you whisper back to him and give his hands a squeeze before being led away by Sigrid.

“You two are very affectionate with one another, I think you’re going to enjoy tonight’s festivities quite a lot,” Sigrid says smirking at you.

At the table, she introduces you to all of the mistresses seated there, most of whom look you over with amusement and curiosity. There are a few though who seem displeased by your presence and they openly frown at you. You suppose it is due to your off-worlder status more than anything else, but you sincerely hope you haven’t made some type of social gaff that may have offended them. You look over to the men’s table and notice that Din has positioned himself so that he is seated in your direct line of sight. It puts you at ease knowing that you can look up at any time and see that familiar helmet and visor.

One of the younger mistresses, Eira, seems the most interested in you and she seems to be one of the friendliest so you strike up a conversation with her. She tells you about her background as a professional fighter, and how that fame brought her into the arena of politics. You’re telling her a little bit about your travels with Din, when one of the other mistresses, Runa, pipes up,

“Yes, tell us all about the Mandalorian.”

“Well, he’s an incredibly skilled fighter, very brave, and I trust him with my life,” you say, thinking that’s what will most likely impress them.

“No, no,” Runa says, “Tell us about your relationship with him. And not just the lovey-dovey stuff, the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?” you repeat, rather surprised.

“Yeah, like what’s it like sleeping with a man who’s so large?” Eira asks, apparently also curious to hear about Din.

“Well, it’s great,” you tell them, “He’s very big and strong and I like the way it makes me feel when I’m in his arms.” You know you’re being liberal with the definition of ‘sleeping with’ here but they don’t need to know that.

“Huh?” Eira responds, “It just seems so weird. I like my men the smaller the better, like I can just wrap myself around their whole body.” The other women nod along with her and several look at you like you must be crazy.

“I suppose that’s just one of the differences between our cultures, but I would say that where I come from, people are very accepting of all different types of bodies and partners. I’m sure there are women from my society who prefer smaller men like you do.” Eira smiles at you when you say this.

“Yes, but when you say big, is he big everywhere?” Runa asks you pointedly and motions with her hands holding them side by side and then expending them outward little by little.

You laugh at loud at that, especially because of the alarmed look on her face as her hands get wider apart. You notice too that now the entire table is waiting for your answer, so much for Sigrid’s ‘serious discussions’. You smile, amused by their interest, and you can’t help but glance over at Din for a moment before you tell them,

“He is very well endowed.” You might not have direct knowledge of that, but from the time you saw him after swimming and the times you’ve felt him against you lately, you know your answer is correct.

“But doesn’t that, you know, hurt you?” Runa wants to know. Her face is very concerned and you do all you can to keep from laughing again so that she won’t think you rude.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you tell her, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Tell us more about him as a lover,” Lagertha says, her voice loud as it carries across the table. You cringe a bit internally at that because you know that the men’s table has to have heard her. You look right at Din and he tips his helmet in a way that you know means ‘really?’ and you give him a slight shrug in response.

Maker, what can you say to these horny women? Your experience with him is so limited as it is. You decide to just go off of what you do know and then let your imagination fill in the gaps. You figure as long as you keep them entertained with this, they’ll be less likely to ask you any other questions about your invented background that could potentially poke holes in your story. So you tell them all about how generous Din is as a lover, that he’s tender and caring, but then able to be harder and rough when you want him to be. You make him out to be a complete sex god for these women and they are entranced.

“Well, then, it seems like you have the perfect partner for the Jubilee,” Sigrid says chuckling, “I’m sure he’ll get you pregnant.”

You choke on your wine as she says this. What the hell?

“Of course he will, you don’t have to worry,” Eira says and she pats your arm supportively, “After all, that is the point of a fertility festival and Astrid is sure to bless you even if you’re an off-worlder.”

Sweet Maker above! You can only imagine what the rest of this Jubilee will entail.

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

You and Din are finally able to be back together after the dinner. It feels like a relief to have him place his hand on the small of your back as you both follow everyone to a large ballroom where the entertainment is scheduled to begin soon.

“So, what am I like as a lover?” Din leans down to ask you discreetly, his voice is teasing though.

“I knew you had to have heard that,” you say embarrassed, “But these crazy horny women just wouldn’t stop asking me about you.”

“It was the same for me,” he tells you, “All the men wanted to hear about how we fell in love.”

You laugh as you tell him, “Oh no, the women only wanted to hear about sex. But I am curious to know what you told the men.”

“And I’m curious to hear what you told the women,” Din replies.

“Well, obviously I had to do some speculating, but in essence I told them you were a very generous and highly-skilled lover, oh, and that you’re very large.” You wink at him as you say this and give him your most flirtatious smile.

Din pulls you in closer to him and tilts his head down to tell you, “I think that’s a fairly accurate description but I’d much rather you’d experience it first-hand instead of just taking my word for it.” You shiver in anticipation at that.

“Ok, now, what did you tell the men?” You’re very interested to hear this.

“I told them the truth, that you’re the most beautiful, kind, and caring woman I’ve ever known, that you make my life so much better, and that I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you, I also told them that you’re a wonderful kisser.” He says this so sincerely that your heart swells with happiness.

You drop your voice to a whisper so that there’s no way anyone will overhear you use his name, “Din, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” you have to pause for a moment to collect yourself before you tell him, “I hope you know that you make my life so much better too.” You want to tell him more but it’s too public here.

“Thank you for telling me, cyar’ika,” he replies, his voice sounding warm even in a whisper.

Speaking of romantic, the ballroom is set up like a large cabaret with small tables for couples all around, only instead of chairs, each table has a rounded booth with a high back, positioned to face the large open area in the front of the room. As couples start to be seated, you can see that there’s quite a bit of privacy for each table despite the large number of attendees.

“Trent said we can sit wherever we like, but I get the impression we should pick something near the performance area so they’ll think we’re really interested in the show,” Din tells you. You find a table in the second row with a good view of the stage area. The booth is very comfortable and you lean into Din as he places his arm around your shoulders.

“Did Trent give you details about the show?”

He groans slightly, “Yes, probably too many, the best I can tell you is that we’re going to see an erotic celebration designed to honor their goddess, Astrid.”

“Ah yes, I found out something else about this celebration,” you tell him, “This whole Jubilee is a fertility festival; everyone thinks we’re here so that you’ll get me pregnant, that’s what they mean when they say ‘may Astrid bless you’.” Your face feels hot as you inform him of this.

“Well, I’ll certainly give it my all, cyar’ika,” Din tell you, his voice sounding deeper.

“Very funny,” you reply, “I have an implant in any case.”

“Still, practice does make perfect,” he says, laughing, “And the thought does intrigue me.” You giggle in response to that and then start to quiet down as the lights dim.

Truthfully, Din is more than intrigued by the idea. The men also filled him in on the purpose of this holiday during the dinner and he has been thinking about it ever since. Honestly, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of taking you to bed all day, and his arousal has only been growing. While impractical, the idea of seeing you pregnant with his child is appealing to him in ways he never knew were possible. The reality of how much he wants that someday with you is so strong it’s almost overwhelming to him. In the past, the idea of becoming attached to someone never interested him; the women that he met were good for a sexual release but they were never anyone he wanted to spend time with outside of the bedroom. But with you, everything looks different, feels different, and he wants things he’s never wanted before.

Din’s thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of several dancers, male and female, who have started their performance. He watches a bit at first but then becomes bored and turns his attention back to you. He likes the way you’re cuddled up to him, he’s glad you’re not shy about showing him affection in public. Din is also enjoying watching your face and your reactions as you watch the performance unfold. You seem enthralled until you notice his visor is turned toward you instead of the dancers.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, blinking up at him. He simply gives your shoulder a squeeze and nods.

He keeps looking at you instead of the performance though until he sees your eyes widen and you gasp. Din turns his attention back to the dancers to see that they are removing most of their clothing to reveal their bodies. The dancers then start to pair off and dance together in what can only be described as the most sexual dancing Din has ever seen. There is grinding, thrusting, and a lot of groping. Turns out Trent was right about it being an erotic spectacle. He chuckles a bit to himself at the description and really, it’s nothing worse than some of the pornographic holovids he’s seen before. He looks down at you however and notices that you have become a little restless next to him. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the dancers and he sees your tongue come out to wet your lips as you watch. This is turning you on, he realizes. As he glances around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you, he notes that several of the couples in the booths have started to put on their own performances, so to speak, and no one is interested in the two of you anymore. Never a man to let an opportunity pass by, Din decides to take full advantage of the situation and he reaches over and pulls you into his lap.

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasp, surprised by his actions.

“Shh, cyar’ika, look around,” he tells you. You look over at the other booths to see that most everyone else is making out all around you.

“Oh”

“It’s ok, keep watching the dancers, I can tell you like it,” Din says as his arms wrap around you. He holds you like that for a moment as you continue to watch the performers simulate various sexual acts. But before long his hands begin to wander, starting by running his fingers lightly over your collarbone. He traces the line of your necklace down to the mythosaur and then brushes against the tops of your breasts just along the edge of your bodice. Din hears you let out a small whine as he touches you and it emboldens him to palm one of your breasts fully. Between the layers of fabric of your dress and his gloves, it’s only a tease, but as he continues to grope you, he can hear the pace of your breathing increase. Din wants more and his hand finds the long slit in your dress allowing him to run his fingers up your thigh. He can feel your warmth as he gently kneads your flesh. Each movement he makes seems to elicit a small sound from you and he’s eager to hear more. Din slowly makes his way higher up your skirt thinking he’ll just tease the edges of your panties or maybe touch you over them, when he realizes he’s not finding any.

“Oh, my naughty girl, are you not wearing anything under this dress?” Din asks.

“Didn’t seem necessary,” you whisper to him.

He lets his fingers lightly explore between your legs, and when he can feel how wet you are already he can’t keep himself from letting his hand become more bold. He runs two of his fingers through your damp folds and up to the small bundle of nerves that he knows will bring you the most pleasure. Din feels you shudder against him as he circles your clit before bringing his fingers back down. The movement makes you shift your hips over his making you grind against his cock and he lets out a deep groan. It’s more than he can take and he says,

“We’re going back to room, now.”

“But, the show is still going on,” you say a little worried about being rude to your hostess.

“No one will miss us,” Din insists, “Let’s go.”

You quickly slide out of the booth following Din and he grabs your hand to hustle you to the exit. He’s right that no one seems to notice you at all, except for one other couple that is also sneaking out early. Din and you practically run back to your room, but once you get inside all you can do is stand there for a moment looking at each other.

“I want to make love to you,” Din says, his voice deep, “Please tell me you want that too.”

“I do, so much,” you reply.

He sweeps you into his arms and brings his helmet down to your forehead, as he asks, “Can we use the sleep mask? I really want to kiss you again and be able to use my mouth on your body.”

“Yes, but can we get undressed first?” you ask, “Because I’d like to see your body for a bit before.”

“Absolutely,” Din replies and he starts to pull off his armor. You have a lot less to remove, so with a simple whoosh of fabric, you’re standing before him in only your bra and his mythosaur necklace. You unhook the bra and toss it aside.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Din says, as he yanks at his own clothing in an attempt to be faster. You reach to lift the necklace off, when Din stops you, “No, don’t, I’d like it if you’d leave that on.”

“Oh?”

“I like seeing it on you, especially when it’s the only thing you have on,” he rasps out.

He’s finally almost totally naked except for his boxers and his helmet. Din can see you are transfixed with the way you are practically hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. It makes him smile how enthusiastic you are to see him. He slows his movements to draw out the moment and watches your face intently as he leisurely lowers the boxers from his hips. He sees your eyes widen and he chuckles as your mouth makes the most adorable little ‘o’.

“Wow, Din, you are the gorgeous one,” you reply practically in awe, “And I was right, you are large.”

Din chuckles at that comment, “I’m glad you like the view.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of it,” you say as you walk closer to him and as soon as you are in arms reach, Din pulls you to him so he can finally feel you. The sensation overwhelms him and all he can do is hold you there reveling in the feeling of your naked body against his. He lets out a loud groan from deep in his chest.

“I never thought this could feel so good,” Din breathes out. You shift against him and he groans again, “Please can we get the blindfold now? I need to kiss you.”

You pull away from him to reach into the nightstand drawer where you stashed the sleep mask. You take one last long look at his nude form before giving him an appreciative smile and slipping the mask on over your eyes. Not a second later, you hear a clunk as the helmet hits the floor and then Din is on you. He kisses you like he’ll never get another chance again, so full of passion and desire that it makes your head spin. His kiss is so all consuming that you don’t even realize that he’s picked you up and carried you to the bed, until he’s lying you back onto the soft cover. Din breaks the kiss just for a moment so that he can climb on top of you and come to rest comfortably between your spread legs.

Din could kiss you forever if you would let him. He loves the way your lips mold to his and the feeling of your tongue tasting his. He only pulls away to let you both catch your breath slightly before he’s back, trying to kiss you with even more fervor each time. Finally, you break the kiss so that you can explore more and the soft feel of your lips on his neck is magical. You find a sensitive spot just under his ear that makes him moan with pleasure. That moan quickly turns into a growl though as you use your teeth to nip at the spot.

“Ah, cyar’ika, let me try that on you,” he says, moving so that he has better access to your neck. Like you, he starts with soft kisses before biting into your neck to mark you as his. You’re more vocal than he is, letting out little mewls and whines of pleasure the more he kisses and sucks on your skin. He works his way down your neck to your chest, kissing and nipping at you the entire way. Finally, he’s at your breasts and Din does something he’s been dreaming of forever. He takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, pleasuring the sensitive peak with his tongue.

“Din!” you cry out his name and arch your back beneath him from how wonderful it feels. You can’t keep still as he suckles you. You run your fingers through his thick, wavy hair and then down his strong shoulders. When he tries out his teeth on your breast, you scratch your fingernails down his back. You feel his responding groan vibrate against your chest before he lifts his head from you,

“Do that again, cyar’ika, I liked it,” he tells you before switching to your other nipple to lavish it with the same mind-blowing pleasure. You rake your fingernails down his back again and again, as you writhe beneath him. It feels so good but yet, it isn’t enough.

“Please, Din, please,” you beg him.

He pulls off your breast with a soft pop of his lips, “Please what?” he asks you, his voice sounding amused.

“Touch me,” you pant out, “Please.”

“I am touching you,” Din teases and he drops his head back down so he can lick in between your breasts and down your stomach. “Or do you want me touch you somewhere else? Maybe here?” He licks and nibbles just above your belly button.

“Yes, but lower,” you say.

“How about here?” Din kisses lower, near your hipbone.

“Din!” Your voice comes out as a whine and he chuckles, Maker, he’s such a tease.

You feel him shift his body down and even though you can’t see him, you know he’s looking right at your pussy. You wait in anticipation of his touch and then start to wonder, as he doesn’t move.

“Din?”

“Just enjoying the beautiful sight,” he says, his voice full of desire. He waits just a beat more and then you feel his tongue moving through your wet folds.

You shudder and let out a loud moan as he licks you. He’s moving so slow, like he’s trying to savor you, and it feels wonderful but it’s also so maddening.

“Please, please more,” you beg him, your voice shaky in your need.

Din is happy to oblige you and he lets his tongue begin to explore you in earnest. His hands are splayed on each of your thighs as his mouth moves over you. As he licks you higher, he holds your lips open with his thumbs so he can have better access to your clit. Each time he lets his tongue brush over the little pearl, you cry out. He keeps this up for a bit, tormenting you, until he finally latches his lips around it and sucks your clit into his mouth. You cry out his name so loudly when he does that and you thrust your hands into his hair gripping it tightly.

The sensation makes him groan and he’s pleased when you do it again. The more he suckles and tongues your clit, the harder you tremble against him and he has to push down on your hips to keep you still. He pulls away from you for just a moment and lets his thumb draw circles on your clit in place of his tongue.

“You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, cyar’ika,” he tells you, “Wanted to do this for so long, so much better than I could have imagined.”

All you can do is moan in response because the mounting pleasure has robbed you of all logical thought. Din dives back into you, licking his tongue around your entrance before he pushes the muscle inside you. You cry out again and you grip his hair even tighter as your orgasm begins to close in on you. You feel yourself surging higher and higher, your thighs pushing tight around his head, until suddenly you are at the peak, feeling the most sublime pleasure as you gush on his tongue.

Din slows his movements as he lets you come down from your high, but he wants more. He’s waited so long to be here, he’s going to take his time until you’re begging him to stop. He lifts his mouth from you so that he can suck two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly.

“Is that really the first time you’ve done that?” You’ve regained enough composure to ask him.

“Yes,” he says, chuckling.

“If you get any better, you might kill me,” you tell him still sounding rather breathless.

“Well my darling, I’m not stopping yet,” Din replies as he pushes one long finger into you and drops his head back down to tongue your clit again. The high-pitched cry you let out makes him smile against you and he sees what he can do to hear it a second time. He can feel you flutter around his finger and he can’t believe how tight you are. He knows it’ll be easier for you to take his cock if he can make you come a couple more times on his fingers first. He slowly adds his second finger to you before he starts pumping them into you at a steady pace while licking and sucking your clit the entire time. He just barely crooks his fingers upward to brush the top of your walls when you’re coming apart again, shuddering so hard you almost buck him off you.

“Ahhh! Din, how’re you doing th-at, fe-feels so go-od,” you try your best to praise him but you can barely get the words out.

“Does it, cyar’ika? Does it feel good what I’m doing to you?” Din asks as he keeps his fingers working within your body. You clench around him hard.

“Talk to me,” you pant out, “like it so much.”

“You want me to talk to you, tell you how wonderful you feel around my fingers, how hot and wet you are?” Din replies and all you can do is moan in response.

“Mmm, you came so nice and hard for me before, gripped me so well, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, going to feel fucking amazing.” The more Din talks dirty to you the more you cry out and thrust your hips against him.

“You really like this, don’t you, my fingers stretching you out, getting you nice and ready for me,” Din’s voice is so deep that the tone is doing just as much to pleasure you as his words do. “Tell you what, I’m going to keep this up and I’m going to suck on that beautiful little clit of yours until you come again for me.” And with that, his mouth returns to his favorite spot.

All you can do is cry out his name as the pleasure burns through your body. It’s so strong that you feel tears welling up in your eyes and you’re shaking all over from the sheer delight of his actions. It feels as if you are being tossed on a sea of pleasure, rising and falling with each wave, until finally you reach the largest wave of them all and it crashes over you. You lay there boneless and panting until Din finally stops and kisses his way back up your body before finally lying down next to you.

When you finally feel your breathing calm, you reach for him and bring him into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. He moans his approval and rolls over on top of you.

“Wait,” you say breaking the kiss, “Don’t you want me to touch you? I’d love to taste you too.”

“I’d like that, cyar’ika, but some other time,” Din says, “Right now, I need to be inside you.”

In response, you widen your legs for him and draw them up to frame his hips, “I want that too, Din.”

“Tell me again, please,” he says as you feel his cock glide over your folds spreading your wetness all over him.

“I want you, Din, I need to feel you inside me, I need you to make love to me,” you tell him, your voice full of emotion.

“Oh, ner cyar’ika,” Din says before he kisses you and begins to push into your narrow passage. Even with as wet and ready as you are for him, he wants to go slowly both so he can be sure not to hurt you and so that he can enjoy every moment of this first time.

You gasp into his mouth as he gradually stretches you open; you saw how big he is, but feeling him now, he seems enormous, but the sensation is amazing. He’s unhurried as he lets your body adjust to him and you feel nothing but pleasure as he continues to push forward. You know he’s been delaying his own pleasure this entire time that he’s been devoted to you and you marvel at his control now. Finally, he is completely sheathed within you and he breaks the kiss so he can let out a moan. He drops his forehead to yours and just stays there without moving. You let your inner muscles flutter around him as you enjoy the feel of him deep within you. He moans again.

“You little minx, do it again,” he says before kissing you anew. So you do, you tighten and release him almost like you’re trying to pull him deeper inside of you. You do it again and again until finally he starts to withdraw from you to begin thrusting. Din continues to move at a languid pace, allowing you to feel every delicious inch of him as he brushes your walls. Every time he reaches the deepest point inside you, you clench around him as tight as you can, in a vain effort to keep him there.

“Din, you’re so good, I love the way you feel,” you tell him.

“You’re perfect, cyar’ika, you’re so tight and hot and perfect,” he says and he starts to roll his hips into yours so that he strokes firmly on the most pleasurable part inside you as he pulls out. It makes you cry out his name.

“I love the way you say my name, my wonderful girl,” Din praises you and you wish you could compliment him back but he’s making you forget how to speak it’s so good, and all you can do is repeat his name.

Din reaches down to shift your legs higher on his hips and it changes your position so that he can thrust even deeper into you. He feels you lock your legs around his narrow waist and he adores it. He feels so close to you; it’s the most intimate sex has ever been for him. He wants to tell you how great it is but all he can get out are a string of random words of praise. He knows he’s getting close, but he wants you to come one more time before he does. He slides his hand between the two of you so he can reach your clit and he circles it roughly as he begins to piston into you at a fast pace.

“Yes, Din, yes, right there, don’t stop!” you call out to him. His hips are rocketing against yours now and you know you’re almost to another climax. You feel your thighs start to quake with your release and you know it will be a strong one.

“Please, please cyar’ika, come for me,” Din begs you and his voice urging you on is what you needed. You feel yourself explode and everything feels white hot as you clench hard around him. Din thrusts twice more before his own orgasm overtakes him and he spills himself deep within you, his cock pulsing. He shudders above you and his arms give out, making him sink his full weight into you. It feels wonderful and you wrap your arms around him to hold him tight.

When you can breathe again, you tell him, “Din, that was so amazing, I don’t even have the words, just incredible.”

“For me too,” he pants out as he is still catching his breath. You let him relax as you run your hands over his back gently. Eventually though, he picks up his head and kisses you so sweetly.

“I had no idea that anything could ever feel this wonderful,” Din tells you, and he kisses you again before rolling to the side and snuggling next to you with his head nestled in the crook of your neck and his hand resting on your stomach.

“So did I live up to the reputation you gave me as a lover?” Din asks, his voice flirty and teasing.

“Oh, you surpassed it,” you reply, “You are even better than the sex god, I described.”

“Ah, sex god, I like it,” he laughs, “Feel free to call me that any time.”

“Should I tell, Sigrid, to announce you as such tomorrow?” you laugh with him.

“Absolutely, may I present to you her Royal Highness and her Sex God.” He’s still chuckling and shaking the bed with his laughter. He calms down for a moment and he lets his hand trace lazy circles on your stomach before it comes to rest just below your belly button.

“So?” Din drawls, “Do you think you were blessed by Astrid?”

“I think modern science may have thwarted her in that,” you respond with a giggle.

“Hmm, maybe I should try again?” Din replies as he turns you to face him and pulls your leg over his hip. You’re surprised to feel that he’s already hard again as he grinds himself against you.

“I suppose you should,” you tell him encouragingly and you find his lips again in an adoring kiss.

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

Thank you again so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Go to Chapter 7: The Mando Games

Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @imthemandalornow @overtly-cuteashell

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic

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toh-writings · 3 years ago

Text

Fortunes of Love Pt 1 (Eda x OC)

Summary:

When King needs his most loyal soldier fixed, Eda decides to take them to an old acquaintance of hers to get it patched. What starts as a visit turns into another visit, then another, then another. Eda begins to wonder why they were never friends before.

Warnings: None

It was a surprisingly quiet afternoon. Luz was still at school, Hooty was taking a nap, and King was off somewhere playing. And Eda had every intention of taking advantage of the break in the chaos. She slumped onto the couch with a sigh, a steaming mug of tea in her hands. She took a sip of her drink, closing her eyes and relaxing, a lazy smile on her face. This was the stuff.

Eda’s peace was shattered when a screech rang out through the house. She sighed, putting her mug down on the coffee table. Looks like her tea would go cold. She crossed her arms, scowling at King as he dashed into the room, but her face softened when she saw him. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, his little stuffed rabbit clutched tightly in his arms.

“Eda!” he screeched, running into her legs and toppling over. He was quick to get back to his feet.

“I’m right here, King, you don’t need to screech.”

“Eda, Eda, The worst thing ever has happened!” He continued to screech, not bothering to lower his voice a bit. “Francoise’s been injured!”

He shoved the rabbit in her face, showing the arm hanging on by a thread, the stuffing spilling out.

“He needs immediate attention or I fear he’ll lose his life!” The little demon insisted, looking quite devastated at the turn of events. Eda sighed, a soft smile on her face.

“Alright, alright, let me see.”

She gently took the rabbit from him and took a closer look. The thread attaching the arm to the body was in pieces, bits poking out of the worn fabric. It had probably just gotten too old, played with too much, something like that. She wasn’t the best at sewing, but it looked easy enough to fix.

“Guess I can fix it. Just let me get some things.”

She handed the rabbit back to King and gave him a little pat on his head. She had a bunch of junk in the closet to look through.

It was tougher than she thought it would be just to find a needle and thread. Luz had returned from school before she had even found anything.

“Eda? What are you doing?”

The witch huffed from her pile of stuff, the shelves of the closet empty. She grumbled, wading through her pile and standing by Luz.

“Looking for a needle and thread. King broke his doll.” She said dismissively, idly drawing a circle in the air. All the junk on the floor jumped to attention and flew back to their spots. “Clearly, I didn’t find anything.”

“Awww, that’s why King looks so depressed.”

They looked back to the couch where King sat, still clutching his broken rabbit with big crocodile tears in his eyes. He sniffed.

“Yeah. We need to fix that thing.”

Eda went quiet as she thought, pacing the living room. Okay, maybe she couldn’t fix the damn thing herself. That meant she would have to find someone else to do it. She went through all the people she knew in her mind. Half of them hated her, so it was easy to cut the list down. None of the first people she thought of actually knew anything about sewing or stuffed animals. She had to dig deep before she remembered someone who might be able to help. It was a long shot, but they had to try.

“Alright you two, I have an idea.”

She turned to them with her signature cocky smile.

“We’re going to the market.”

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

The Market was busy this time of day, the witchlings who just got out of school running around through the crowd. Eda hated being at the market when it was like this, but desperate times they say. The market was large and there were many stalls, but only one of them was the one they needed. She wished she remembered where it was better. She had never actually been there before, she just passed it every once in a while. After several wrong turns and irritated mumbles, she finally spotted the familiar stall.

“Ah, here we are! Told ya I’d find it.”

She crossed her arms, a prideful smile on her face, but Luz and King looked doubtful.

“It looks like a … fortune-teller?” Luz said, cocking her head to one side.

And so it did. The dark blue stall was decorated with white glittering stars and a crystal ball sat on the counter alongside various other tools. A group of teenagers were clustered around it, giggling and squealing at each other.

“How is some palm reading supposed to help Francoise?” King shouted, looking irritated.

“Just come on, ya little demon. Trust me.”

King continued to grumble his doubts as the approached the stall. The group of teenagers dispersed as they approached, talking amongst each other and staring at their hands in wonder. As they left they could see the witch waving goodbye. She looked friendly enough, her black curls tied back and what looked like a snake hanging on her shoulders. She smiled at them as they approached, though she looked a bit hesitant when she saw Eda.

“Hello! How can I help you?” Her voice was small and quiet.

“There you are! What was it again? Nila or something?” Eda’s voice boomed in contrast to the other witch. She leaned against the counter, a hand on her hip.

“Niliana.”

Eda gave a dismissive wave.

“Whatever, close enough. Listen, Nily, we have a bit of a problem here and need your help.”

She nodded to King. He still looked doubtful, but jumped on the counter and showed the witch his rabbit. She focused on it instantly, brows furrowed as she inspected the damage, humming thoughtfully.

“You want me to fix it?”

Eda nodded.

“It’s desperate! We must heal Francoie immediately!” King shouted, waving his arms around. “I don’t want to lose my best buddy!”

The woman smiled at him, giving his head a few pats.

“He’ll be fine. I can fix him. Come on then, my supplies are in the back.”

She left her stall, leading them into a tent behind it. Luz gazed around it in wonder. It was dark, little balls of light floating around the ceiling giving all the light they needed to see. There shelves upon shelves of stuff surrounding them, crystal balls, crystals, various jars of herbs, and other mysterious substances. Even more dried herbs were hanging from the ceiling alongside various fabrics. In the middle of the room were several comfy looking chairs and a love seat surrounding a round coffee table with a few unlit candles.

“Take a seat, I’ll get working on this.” Niliana told them in her soft voice, motioning to the chairs. Luz hopped into a chair, giggling as she bounced slightly. Eda sat with a sigh, sprawling out over the love seat, but King couldn’t sit. He followed the witch, right on her heals as she walked to what looked like a work table. The shelf above it was lined with various stuffed animals in various rates of decay and mismanagement. King crawled onto the table, watching anxiously as she got to work. The snake on her shoulders slithered away due to some unspoken command, curling around a nearby staff and turning to wood.

“This is a nice place ya got here!” Luz said, still staring around in wonder. “I haven’t meant anyone who was really good at oracle magic before! Can you tell the future? How? What’s your favorite way to do it? What’s all the herbs and crystals for? How…?”

“Slow down, kid!” Eda said, laughing. “Not everyone can talk as fast as you.”

“Oh, right sorry.” Luz said, looking a bit sheepish and shrugging.

“No, dear, I can’t tell the future. Not exactly. Oracle magic is actually quite complicated. It’s more like I see pieces what could happen. I do it by connecting to others magic. I like reading tea leaves the most. The herbs are for the tea. The crystals can be used to focus someones magic so I can read it and use it to tell the future.”

She answered easily, not missing a beat as she worked. The rabbit was empty of all stuffing now, the broken thread removed and the arm sitting next to it. She got herself a bucket and filled it with water, adding an herb here and an herb there. Once the concoction was completed she put the pieces of the rabbit in to soak.

King stared into the bucket, then looked up at her, confused.

“What are you doing?” He asked, the nervousness creeping into his voice. She smiled at him again.

“He’s just taking a bath is all. It’ll make his fur soft and stronger.”

King nodded, keeping a close eye on the bucket.

“What do you mean you see pieces? What does that mean? And what does tea have to do with telling the future?”

Niliana sighed.

“Why don’t I just … show you? Would that appease you?”

Luz’s eyes went wide and she nodded, almost bouncing with excitement. So, she started putting together a pot of tea, heating the water with a magical floating fire. With nothing left to do but wait, she finally sat with a sigh, grabbing a deck of cards to fiddle with.

Luz never stopped talking, but once the witch had settled the girl went oddly silent. Niliana looked over to her to find the girl watching her with intent, curious eyes.

“Sooooo…” She started, a smirk on her face. “How do you and Eda know each otherrrrrrr.”

“We went to school together,” Eda spoke up before Niliana could, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just nodded.

“We were both in the potions track, at least for a short time.”

“Ugh, those classes were so booooring.” Eda groaned, slouching even further in the love seat at the very memory of them. “It was nothing but stirring and stirring. I don’t know how you managed it.”

“Clearly, I didn’t.” She said, twirling a card between her fingers. “I transferred to the oracle track shortly after you left.”

Eda snorted.

“I’m amazed anyone's making potions these days with a class like that.”

Niliana shrugged.

“I didn’t think it was all that bad. The monotony was calming, especially when I was having a bad day.”

Eda waved her hand aimlessly, clearly unimpressed.

“Awww, you guys were friends?” Luz asked, but Eda shook her head, confusing the girl.

“Not really. We were more like … Aquaintances. We knew of each other, but we didn’t hang out or anything.”

“We only really talked when we were paired up for a project.” Niliana added.

“Yeah, I remember that! I always got a passing grade with you watching my back!”

“You made me do all the work.”

“Not like I was learning anything anyway. I still did some of the stirring, didn’t I?”

“Mmmm, I suppose. Not much. You were too busy getting into trouble releasing spirits in the locker room or something.”

Eda snickered, remembering all her troublesome pranks.

“They never could get rid of those spirits. They made me do it!”

Niliana looked doubtful.

“And how exactly did they manage that?”

Eda just smiled, sitting up so she could ruffle Luz’s hair.

“I had to get Luz here into that school somehow.”

They spent a while retelling some of there adventures from school. Well, Eda retold some of her adventures. NIlly occasionally would add something here or that, mentioning something she herself remembered. Otherwise, she busied herself with other things. The tea needed to be finished and handed out and the rabbit needed dried off after soak and restuffed. The tent was filled with laughter. Even King was laughing at some points, though he kept his attention mostly on his rabbit.

“I finished my tea!” Luz piped up. “Do you read the leaves now?”

“In a bit, hun, let me just finish this real quick.”

King bounced anxiously, watching her carefully as pulled the needle through the fabric. Finally, the string was tied off and snipped.

“He’s done! Ya fixed him!” King shouted, eagerly grabbing for the rabbit, but the woman pulled it away.

“One last thing.” She said, opening one of her drawers to pull out a black ribbon. She tied it around the rabbit’s neck, forming a cute little bowtie. Only when that was done did she hand it to the little demon. He snatched it from her hands, giving it a big hug.

“Francoise! You’re all fixed!” He cheered. “Thank you, lady!”

He jumped off the counter, dashing over to Eda to show her his newly fixed rabbit. She whistled.

“Dang, it almost looks brand new! I knew you did this sort of stuff but I didn’t know you were good at it.”

Niliana shook her head.

“How did you even know? I don’t remember telling you about it.”

Eda shrugged, moving to the side so King could sit next to her, Francoise in his lap.

“I don’t know, you mentioned something about fixing stuffed animals during one of our projects.”

“And you remembered?”

“Yeah, I know. I even shock myself sometimes.” She smirked smugly, crossing her legs and putting her hands behind her head.

Niliana rolled her eyes, sitting down and putting a hand out to Luz. The girl eeped gleefully, rushing to give her the tea cup.

“Now, what do you want me to focus on?”

“Uh, what?” Luz asked.

“I need something to focus on. So, what do you want to know?”

Luz thought for a moment, then beamed.

“Oh, oh, I know! Will I ever fall in love?”

Eda rolled her eyes, mumbling something about teenagers and love. Niliana smirked at that before gazing into the cup. A moment later her eyes started glowing teal. Luz watched, fascinated. Several moments passed in silence before Luz got too impatient.

“Well? What do you see?”

Niliana closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. They were no longer glowing, returned to their usual golden brown. She thought for a moment, Luz staring at her intently, slowly inching closer to the witch.

“You will fall in love. In fact, you’ll fall in love with someone you already know and who you’re already close with.” She finally said, placing the cup down on the coffee table.

“Whoa, really? How do you know?”

“When I read your tea leaves, I focus intently on you and whatever you want to know, in this case, love. When I go into my trance, I don’t really see things, I feel things. They're more like impressions. I felt love, that’s how I know you will fall in love with someone. But I also felt a sense of familiarity, which is how I know it’s someone close to you. I’d advise you to figure out if any of your friends like you.”

“Whoa…” Luz whispered, looking amazed. Eda chuckled. It was amazing that her face didn’t freeze like that.

“Alright, hotshot. If you’re so good at this then read my stupid leaves.” She said, leaning forward, her teacup hanging off a finger. Niliana snatched it before it could fall and shatter. She shot the other witch a hard look.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, just tell me something about my love life or whatever.”

The witch stared into the teacup for a moment before her eyes lit up once more.

“This is all nonsense anyway,” Eda added, sitting back and crossing her arms. Luz looked taken aback.

“What? Why?”

“Simple. There’s no such thing as a set future. It hasn’t happened yet! Sure, you can be told what might happen and give all sorts of random advice or whatever, but it’s you’re own actions that determine what really happens. That’s not something she can control.”

Luz looked a little downtrodden by her mentors' words, but brightened almost instantly.

“So she can’t tell exactly what’ll happen, but she can point me in the right direction! It’s like well-informed advice.”

Eda waved a hand dismissively.

“Whatever you say, kid. Personally, I don’t let this stuff get to me.”

Niliana blinked, her eyes returning to normal once more.

“... alright, there’s a lot more to go through here.” She commented, looking rather thoughtful.

Eda frowned, just a bit irritated.

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

The woman didn’t seem affected by Eda’s steely tone, continuing with her even, soft voice.

“You have a pretty crazy love life already, it can be hard to sift through. You feel a lot of love for the people around you, so it's hard to say if there’s anything new there … There will be others that’ll come into your life and join your little family, that’s for sure. For a wanted criminal, you really draw them in.”

Eda huffed, her irritation fading as a soft smile spread on her face.

“I suppose so... “

She tried not to react to the look Luz was giving her.

It was a few more seconds before Niliana spoke up again.

“For someone who’s dated a lot, you haven’t felt a who lot of romantic love before. But there will be someone someday. Probably someone from your past. You may be nervous about it, it’ll be odd and new, but It’ll be worth it. My advice would be to not go searching for anything, but don’t shove anyone away who might want to get close to you. You may never find love if you stay closed off. But make sure they’re making an effort, too.”

She gave a little nod, satisfied with her reading, and put the teacup next to the other.

“My turn! I want a reading too!” King piped up. Niliana nodded and made him a cup. He snatched it out of her hands with a “nyeh’ and gulped it down. He shoved the now empty cup into her face. “Do your magic, Lady!”

Niliana chuckled, taking the cup from him and reading it.

“You, dear, are going to live a very happy life surrounded by the ones you love. You’ll be very pampered like you are now.”

“Yes! Only the best for the King of Demons!” King said, puffing his chest out. Eda pat his head, nearly knocking him over.

“Whatever you say, tiny.”

They left shortly after that, all waving as the left. Niliana waved back from her tent.

“I liked her. We should visit again sometime!” Luz said, looking up at Eda expectantly. King did the same from Luz’s arms, tail wagging. Eda sighed, a smirk crawling onto her face.

“Fine, if you want.”

The two cheered, running ahead a bit. Eda smiled at them.

#edalyn clawthorne #the owl house #toh #toh eda #eda x reader #eda x oc #eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne x reader #edalyn clawthorne x oc

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razzle-zazzle · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 01: All trussed up & still nowhere to go

Bound + Barbed Wire

2338 Words; Sanctuary Island

TW for blood, mentions of slavery, and mild violence

This was not an ideal situation.

Not that Cole had really been in any ideal situations since being brought to this island, but this was more of a relative case. At least having allies nearby was better than being tied to a chair.

But, ideal or not, Cole was here, heavy metal collar held close to the back of the chair by a chain, and escape was not going to come as easily as the last time. The overseers were doing their best to make sure of that.

Really, all Cole had to do was stay alive and hope Artura didn’t attempt anything too reckless in his absence. All of the others had managed to disappear into the woods safely, and it’d be a while yet before their little makeshift fortress could be taken. He’d probably faced much worse odds on the mainland.

His restraints weren’t exactly uncomfortable, per se—he could do without having his arms pulled behind the chair over the back of it, elbows lashed tightly together with what had to be rope chosen deliberately for how rough and scratchy it was, his wrists similarly bound—his legs were tightly tied to the front legs of the chair, but the fabric of his pants prevented most of the friction currently chafing his arms.

He could definitely do without the ropes over his chest, and it would be very nice to get the metal collar off. But Cole refused to focus on the negatives here. He had to stay positive, and keep his eyes open for the opportunity to escape and rejoin the revolution.

So Cole waited, doing his level best to ignore the discomfort, flexing his arms to test the strength of the ropes.

He could snap them with his earth punch easily. That wouldn’t handle any of the other ropes, and he’d have to disconnect the metal collar from the chair if he wanted to lean down to pull the ropes on his legs apart, but it shouldn’t take too long to undo the lock fastening the chain to his collar.

The problem, however, was the collar. Cole wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but there were traces of vengestone in the metal—just enough to cut his strength in half, preventing him from actually snapping the rope.

Cole was stuck waiting until an actual opportunity presented itself, and the longer he waited, the more uncomfortable his position became.

First Master, his arms were aching. The back of the chair was digging into his back, and he couldn’t pull his arms up to alleviate the situation. His elbows being lashed so tightly together was starting to become a problem for his shoulders, too.

But Cole was tougher than that. He had to be. He was the rock of the ninja, so he could be the rock here, too. It was just like Jay said: the power of positive thinking.

Time passed. It probably felt longer than it was—Cole couldn't exactly tell; there wasn’t any way to tell the time. Just a small, windowless room dimly lit by an oil lamp on a table in the corner.

Honestly, the room felt more like a shed than anything. Maybe Cole was locked up in some kind of fortress, and maybe he wasn’t. It was hard to tell, but Cole was leaning towards torture room based on the tools hanging on the wall to his right.

Fuck, now his back was starting to ache, and he was losing feeling in his fingers. Grunting a little, Cole shifted as much as his restraints would allow—not much, but it’d have to do—in an effort to alleviate some of the pain.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, it depended on how one looked at it—the door opened at that moment, heralding the arrival of one of the overseers.

Cole recognized this man. The shiny badge on his top hat gave him away as one of the people enforcing the messed-up system on the island, but Cole recognized the man’s face from the few weeks Cole had been put to work in the fields.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but Cole cut him off.

“Oh good,” he snarked, “I was starting to think I’d been forgotten here.”

The man’s expression changed immediately, shifting from merely dismissive contempt to fury. He crossed the room in two steps and slapped Cole, hard. His head jolted to the side from the force of it.

“Hold your tongue, boy.” Venom dripped from the overseer’s voice, enough to kill a man. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”

Cole grinned. “So I can speak now that you’ve said something to me?” He got another smack in return, his head jolting to the other side this time. Cole tasted copper—he’d bit his tongue twice now.

"You have caused more than enough trouble here, on our fair island.” The overseer stated, adjusting his gloves.

Cole shrugged as much as his restraints would allow, swallowing the blood in his mouth. “Yeah, I kinda specialize in that.” He only got a sharp look at that remark, thankfully enough.

“And what, pray tell," the overseer snarled, reaching back to grip Cole’s hair harshly, "Makes you so special, dirt boy?"

"I'm a ninja." Cole said tersely. He flexed against the restraints. "Protecting people is what I do." Just grin and bear it. That should be easy enough.

He grinned again, past the taste of copper in his mouth, making sure to bare his teeth. "Of course, you wouldn't understand that, would you, slave-driver?"

He got a third smack for his sass. The overseer’s grip on his hair kept Cole’s head from jolting to the side again, but the tradeoff was a harsh yank on his hair.

The overseer huffed, letting go of Cole’s hair. “Well then.” He hissed, walking over to open one of the drawers to Cole’s left. “We’ll see about correcting this little… discipline issue. This little ‘revolution’ of yours ends here, boy.” The overseer held up a spool of barbed wire, face oddly impassive for such a pompous man.

Cole stilled. This was not something he’d seen before.

The overseer opened another drawer, digging through it before pulling out some cloth.

Cole wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was pretty sure it was going to hurt.

“I was going to ask if you’d learned your lesson,” the overseer began, closing the drawers. “But clearly you haven’t.”

“You say that like there’s a lesson to be learned, here.” Cole shot back as the overseer approached. Any further retort was cut off as—rather predictably, Cole would later reflect—the overseer shoved the cloth in his mouth.

It wasn’t a lot, certainly not enough to make his jaw ache any time soon, but it did muffle and garble his words.

Before Cole could spit the cloth out, the overseer was there, securing it in place with a length of barbed wire. Cole glared as the overseer looped the wire twice more around his head before calmly fastening it behind Cole’s head with a metal clip.

None of the spikes were directly digging into Cole’s flesh, but he could feel the edges of the points threateningly close to his skin, close enough to cut into it if he moved too much.

Cole growled through the cloth. He couldn’t actually reduce the man to ash with just a look, but damn if he wasn’t trying.

“Since you fail to understand simple instructions,” The overseer hissed, beginning to wrap more barbed wire around Cole’s chest and arms, “You will have to be educated in proper behavior.” The wire was dangerously tight around Cole, to the point where he could feel some of the spikes through his shirt. His bare arms were spared slightly by the width of the chair, but that didn’t mean much when what was touching his arms was forcing them tighter against the back of the chair.

“You refuse to hold your tongue,” the overseer continued, “so you will not be allowed to speak for the time being. He pulled the wires tighter, cinching the two ends together behind Cole… somehow. It wasn’t like Cole could really see behind himself. “And since you continue to be bullheaded,” the overseer spat the word bullheaded like a curse, “some long-term negative reinforcement is in order.”

Cole huffed, the sound muffled by the gag. Unlike the wire used to gag him, the wire looping around him was digging into his flesh at several points. He couldn’t feel any blood, though, so he supposed there were still small mercies.

Not that those small mercies really made the situation ideal.

The overseer, satisfied with his work—and with the way Cole was glaring at him, curses muffled by the gag—nodded, and then left, the click of a lock finalizing his departure.

Cole groaned. If it had just been some light torture or the whip again, Cole could have handled that. But barbed wire? Being left alone with the barbed wire to suffer for a while? In what basically amounted to solitary confinement?

You can bear this, Cole. Cole reminded himself, staring at the small crack where the door met the floor. You’re too tough to be broken by something so small as this. It didn’t make the situation less painful, but it did give Cole some confidence.

He was going to be aching for weeks after this, he just knew it.

There was something weird about the barbed wire, though. It felt like the spikes all had sharp edges along their lengths, instead of just a sharp point at the end. It was like being held in place by a bunch of tiny little knives—

Cole’s eyes widened. Of course! He’d have grinned were it not for the barbed wire against his cheek. The overseer had left him with exactly what he needed to get free.

Carefully, trying not to cut into himself further, Cole shifted so the ropes around his elbows and wrists were as close to the spikes as he could manage. He couldn’t see what he was doing, having to feel it out, and he could definitely feel one or two of the barbs digging in deeper, but he could also, if he strained his ears enough, hear the faint sound of metal cutting through fiber.

It took some more experimenting before Cole could build up a proper rhythm, but eventually he’d managed to free his elbows, with a lot of little cuts up and down his arms for his efforts. The wire was still pinning his arms against the chair, but it wasn’t holding his arms together.

A little more wriggling—there was definitely blood starting to bead up on his arms now—and Cole’s wrists were free of the rope, allowing Cole to separate his arms. It took some shimmying, and the barbs sliced through his flesh as he did so, but he managed to get his arms to the sides of his chest. This gave the wire enough slack for it to start to fall a bit, and a little more shaking and wiggling got it all the way down, the wire lying in several loops at his waist.

Carefully, avoiding the barbs, Cole twisted the coils around until he could get at whatever was fastening the ends. A little jiggling, and the metal clip came loose, allowing Cole to move the wire where he pleased.

Carefully, trying not to cut up his wrists, Cole lifted his arms out of the wire, freeing them up. Immediately, he used that newfound freedom to fiddle with the clip fastening the wire behind his head.

Cole spat out the cloth, tossing the wire that had held it in place to the side.

Of course, that still left the ropes around his chest and legs, and the collar—

The next step was the collar. Cole wasn’t strong enough to break it without his powers, but he couldn’t access his powers with it on. So he reached back, feeling around the collar for where the chain fastened to it for a weak point.

Blood had dripped down onto his hands while he’d been working his arms free, though, and it was making fiddling with the lock difficult. But dammit, Cole was not sticking around long enough to find out what else the overseer had in store for him, so he grabbed one of the ends of the wire in his lap and jammed it into the lock.

A click signaled the chain was detached from the collar, even if it was still on. Whatever. Cole would deal with that later. Preferably far away from this place.

Of course, he wasn’t home free just yet. There was still the matter of the ropes around his legs.

But Cole also had several coils of barbed wire.

After that, it was a simple matter to cut through the rest of the ropes. Cole was still bleeding, but he’d handle that once he could stand.

Finally free, Cole stood up. His joints creaked in protest after spending so long so tightly bound, but Cole pushed on anyway. He went to the drawers first—he’d need to grab a few things before he could make his daring escape.

First step: the cuts on his arms. They were starting to scab over, not that they’d been that big in the first place, but there was still blood dripping languidly down his arms. So he dug through the drawers for some bandages, and, failing that, some cloth that would serve the same purpose. There wasn’t really anything in the room Cole could use to clean the wounds, so he’d worry about that once he got back to Artura and Laina and the others.

Arms now wrapped with something resembling bandages, Cole moved on to the tool board on the wall, searching for a weapon. His hand-to-hand was usually good, but “usually” didn’t apply to arms covered in cuts and still aching from his bonds. So really, it was a question of which “tool” would serve him best here.

Cole grabbed a knife, examining the blade.

Yeah, this would do.

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #bound #barbed wire #ninjago #lego ninjago #zaz writes #blood #mild violence #slavery mention #cole ninjago #sanctuary island #the overseer #there's not enough cole whump in this sad sad world #kicking off whumptober with a bang!#and a 2000+ word piece #also; for organization within my blog:#tw blood #tw mild violence #tw slavery #yeah that's why i've been putting off doing anything substantial with sanctuary island #the fact that the plot is ''cole arrives on island at just the right time to spark the kindling for a slave revolution''#but hey i might as well just write the damn thing #as long as i tag it all thoroughly i should be fine #also damn cole's so sassy here #gotta get all that vitriol out while he can ig #this would be about midway through the story i think?#it's late enough that there's an actual revolution going on but early enough that the villains aren't taking it seriously just yet #the overseer doesn't get a name bc i refuse to give him one 😊

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kaistarus · 4 years ago

Text

Surprise First Dates

Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 3.9K

Summary: Noya wants your first date to be a surprise. His plans have a track record for ending in worst case scenario, so fingers crossed your night doesn’t end in complete disaster.

Notes: This could be thought of as a sequel to this fic, although you don’t need to read it to enjoy this one. It ended up pretty up a little long... but I love Noya so what can I say. It was bound to happen :)

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

You kept your eyes glued to the sidewalk as you walked beside Noya on a late autumn night. In your fall jacket pockets you fiddled with the ends of your sleeves in an attempt to calm the irregular beating of your heart. Internally, you cursed yourself for behaving so awkwardly.

Briefly you glanced over to Noya to see how he was fairing, but tore your eyes away when they met his curious amber stare dead on. In your peripheral you saw him tighten his grip on the straps of his backpack he’d brought for some reason before clearing his throat.

“You, uh, look really pretty by the way.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” your cheeks warmed and you squeezed your eyes shut. You needed to snap out of this before Noya thought something was wrong. “So, where are we going?”

“Surprise.”

You looked back over with a raised brow, “Well, what are we doing?”

“Surprise.”

“Okay, well what’s in the backpack?”

He met your suspicious gaze with a half-assed glare, “do you know what surprise means?”

“Obviously. I’m just trying to guess if it’s illegal or not.”

He scoffed. “Like I would ever do something illegal.”

You deadpanned at his response and he smirked back with a mischievous glint in his eyes that left you all kinds of suspicious. The only thing you knew about this date was that he seemed really panicked yesterday when the forecast said it might rain. As you scanned the sky now, however, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. There was a bit of a chilled breeze, but that was to be expected this time of year.

“So…” Noya picked at the straps hanging down on the backpack, “how was your day?”

“It was good,” you smiled to yourself and kicked a small rock that appeared in your path. “I chose the book I’m gonna write about for the essay we have for Tuesday. Haven’t actually started it though.”

Noya whipped his head toward you with his eyes wide. “We have an essay!? What are you-” He froze in realization and slowly turned back toward his shoes. “I mean… Yeah, heh, I haven’t started that either.”

You bit your bottom lip to hold back a laugh and nodded shortly. The path you were taking started to become a little too familiar; you'd recognized it as one you took nearly every day. Although it wouldn’t make sense for Noya to be taking you there...

“So, how’s practice going? You have nationals soon, right?”

“It’s awesome!” A huge smile covered his face. “I’ve been practicing overhand receives and Rolling Thunder, of course. Kageyama, Shoyo, and Four Eyes were selected for training camps which is good for us-well, Shoyo didn’t. This guy snuck in, which is fucking hilarious and I’m so proud of him. Daichi was pissed though, holy shit.”

You smiled fondly as he ranted on which seemed to throw him off once he realized how animated he’d become. His cheeks turned pink when he turned to you and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I mean, it’s all good. I think we have a shot of doing really good this year.”

“That’s awesome,” you gave him a lopsided smile. “I can’t wait to watch you.”

“Really? You’re coming?”

“I mean, is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s more than okay.” You watched him smile to himself as he examined the path ahead. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

“Of course I do.” You picked at the material of your sleeves again as your heart rate increased. “Hey, what’s a Rolling Thunder?”

“Oh, it’s when I receive the ball with one arm and then I… on the... “ He grimaced, “you know what? Nevermind.”

You raised an eyebrow, but decided it wasn’t worth pressing the matter. The school’s main building came into view in the distance, so it turned out you were right. He had been leading you toward school.

“I thought you didn’t like school?”

“Oh I hate school with every fiber of my being,” Noya confirmed before pulling a set of keys from his jacket, “but we’re not heading there.”

You looked at him wearily, but followed him past the hauntingly empty main building. Realization only hit you when you began cutting through the courtyard toward the athletics area. “Are we breaking into the volleyball gym?”

“It’s not breaking in if I have the key,” he said confidently, the keys jingling as he spun them around his finger. You hummed doubtfully at his unsound logic.

“You normally carry the gym key?”

“It’s usually Daichi, but he trusts me.” He said while you continued eyeing him with disbelief. “Fine, I agreed to finish late night cleaning for the next few weeks.”

“Gross,” you grimaced.

“Yeah, but it’s worth it.”

A smile crept onto your face as you watched Noya unlock the doors to the gymnasium-only failing three times before finding the right key. Noya bowed like a mock gentleman to gesture you into the gym, and you briefly wondered what could be so exciting about the volleyball gymnasium at night. Especially interesting enough that he would offer to do cleaning.

You bent down to slide your feet out of your outdoor shoes-setting them aside-before stepping onto the gym’s linoleum flooring before addressing Noya, “are we playing volleyball or something?”

It was really the only conclusion you could come to as you observed the room illuminated solely by the moonlight outside; the barred windows casting elongated shadows on the floor. It was eerie seeing the place normally filled with rambunctious boys so silent.

“Nah, I’m all volleyballed out for today,” Noya claimed, seated at the entrance to pull his sneakers off. “Besides, I’ve got tons of my own stuff at home, so we can do that anytime we want.”

Your chest tightened at the implication of his words, but his expression seemed nonchalant as he strolled past you toward a staircase that led to the overhang. Maybe he meant friends hanging out and playing volleyball together and you were the one who jumped to the dating conclusion. A blush crept up your neck as you focused intently on the hood of his sweatshirt while trailing behind him.

You needed to calm down. You weren’t even halfway through the first date.

You snuck a glance down at his free hand that swung carelessly beside him and wondered if it would be weird for you to grab it. People held hands on dates, right? Not that you had been on one, but that definitely was something that went along with dates. He was probably expecting it to happen too...

You furrowed your brow while probably overthinking something miniscule when you abruptly ran into Noya’s back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep,” you answered while rubbing your aching nose. You realized Noya had led you to a door you’d never noticed on the far end of the viewing area. “Are we, uh, going in there? Where’s this lead?”

“Roof.” He unlocked the door more easily this time, once again signaling for you to enter first. You cocked your head to the side, mulling his answer over before narrowing your eyes at him.

“We’re definitely not allowed up there, Noya.”

“I have the keys though.” He said, jingling them for emphasis.

You groaned while debating the pros and cons of your situation. Cons were getting caught could get you in serious trouble with the school, while pros were you would get to continue your date with Noya. You let out a deep sigh before taking the first step up the staircase followed by Noya’s triumphant fist pump. You rolled your eyes fondly at how much of a freaking dork he was, but it still made your chest warm.

You were so screwed.

You opened the door at the top of the staircase with a nod of acceptance. The breeze was way chillier at that higher level and you wrapped your arms around yourself after stepping your socked-feet onto the frigid concrete roof. You made your way to the metal railing, which stung your hands at how cold it was as you looked over your small prefecture. The lights illuminated the darkness and even from this height you could admire how the street lamps decorated the dark.

“Okay, I’ll give. This is pretty awesome,” you looked over your shoulder adorning a smile that turned to confusion when you saw Noya in the center of the roof opening his backpack. “What are you doing?”

“Stuff,” he muttered, pulling out a folded piece of cotton fabric from his bag. You watched him puzzled as he shook it open to reveal a large blanket-dark red with volleyballs everywhere-and spread it across the ground.

You walked up to him as he kneeled down to straighten it all out and smirked, “cute blanket.” You teased.

“Shut up, my sister got it for me.” he grumbled, which only made you smile wider. Your cheeks were beginning to hurt with how much you’d been smiling that night.

After nodding to himself that the blanket was to his satisfaction Noya laid down, glanced up at you, and patted a space beside him. You tilted your head in confusion, but followed his lead by crawling near him and lying on your back.

A few moments of silence passed and you glanced over to Noya. His face was bright red and you furrowed your brow, puzzled. You turned back toward the sky to mull over your thoughts. Why was Noya so nervous all of a sudden? He’d been completely fine all night. If anything you’d been the one who was a nervous wreck.

You took a deep breath and just let yourself admire how beautiful the moon was. It was nearly full so it was bright enough that you go without a flashlight, but not enough to overpower the stars that speckled the ebony sky. You were fortunate to live in a smaller prefecture and not somewhere like Tokyo-even the smallest stars could shine bright in your sky.

You really had gotten lucky with the change in weather. It was a perfect night for-

“Are we stargazing?” You asked, whipping your head toward him so fast you nearly got whiplash. His mouth was set into a straight line and he nodded slowly while avoiding your eyes. Your jaw fell slack at the admission. “Shut. Up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” He said, his tone offended when he turned to you with a scrunched up nose.

“Sorry, that’s not what I-” You flopped back onto your back and let out a breathy laugh. “I’m just surprised.”

“Oh… a good surprised?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

You heard the smile in his voice and it set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. For someone who you’d tried to convince yourself you hadn’t liked he was having an obnoxious affect on you tonight. You had an arm slung over your stomach while the other laid limply on the blanket and when you peeked down you noticed his was lying conspicuously close to yours, drumming his fingers anxiously against the ground.

You weren’t stupid. You could connect dots. You glared at your own hand as you begged it to move just several inches over, and cursed every second that it wouldn’t. You sighed in defeat and a shot of panic pulsed through you when Noya chuckled.

“What are you doing?”

You looked at his amused half-smile nervously, “what do you mean?”

“You looked like you were trying to poop.” Noya laughed lightly causing a blush to cover your face and you pulled that hand away embarrassed. His eyes widened at your reaction, “but like in a cute way.”

“Poop in a cute way?” You asked, dumbfounded at the concept.

“Yes?” He cringed at his answer before sighing and poking you in the bicep with puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sorry. Can you please put your hand back? I was trying to nonchalantly hold it after fifteen minutes of awkward tension.”

You pretended to contemplate before lying it back on the blanket. Instead of the promised fifteen minutes though Noya just grabbed your hand unexpectedly and your chest tightened in surprise. Your heart exploded at how weird it felt-not in a bad way, but in a comfortable and normal way. You liked how easily his fingers fit interlocked with yours and you nibbled on your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling like an absolute idiot.

“Want to see something really impressive?”

You hummed in agreeance, not trusting yourself to form proper sentences at the moment, and saw Noya point to the sky in your peripheral vision.

“So that really bright one. That’s the end of the little dipper,” He said with a nervous tint to his voice. “Which is kind of basic, but there are cooler ones like cygnus which is really just a sky umbrella. That’s those two over there for the bottom...” he pointed around while continuing to describe the sky, looking over every few moments to make sure you were following. You nodded in acknowledgment when you found the ones he spoke about and your heart skipped at the excited smile that would filter onto his face.

“My favorite is triangulum though because what kind of constellation is a triangle? Also, did you know Hercules is just a bunch of squiggles?” He scoffed while drawing a pattern into the sky with one eye closed. “Like, he’s a Disney hero. You’d think he’d get something cooler than that.”

“How do you know this?” You eventually asked, rolling onto your side to admire how nice he looked illuminated by the soft light cast from the moon. His hand in yours flexed and he turned toward you with a nervous smile.

“Would you believe that I have a random interest in stars that no one’s ever known about?”

“Not particularly.”

He laughed nervously and began fiddling with the blonde part of his hair, then eyed you carefully. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek while you mulled it over, “I suppose.”

He rolled onto his side, as well, and you gave his hand a light squeeze for encouragement. “I may or may not have studied the constellations.”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline at the confession, “why would you--you hate homework.”

“It wasn’t homework,” he rolled his eyes. “I just… really wanted to impress you.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know. Now it sounds stupid.”

“Noya…” You brought your conjoined hands forward to softly press your fist against his face, smushing his cheek. “I already think you’re cool.”

“Wait, seriously?” He leaned into your knuckles with a confused brow raised. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you laughed.

He let his eyes fall closed with a breathy laugh. As he nuzzled gently against your hand you let yourself truly live in the moment, take in the serene smile on his face and feel the softness of his cheek against your skin. It was so surreal seeing him calm like this-a complete flip from his usual chaotic behavior at school. Being able to see him truly at peace like this filled your chest with a sense of pride.

“I know I’m not like the best at all of this, but I…” An eye peeked open as he spoke and you felt yourself tensing to combat the nervousness in his voice. “I really want to try.”

His sudden confession hit you like a train and you fumbled over the right thing to say, but the words you wanted were stuck in your throat.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-” He winced at himself. “It’s just I like you and I’m having a lot of fun so… but I understand if you don’t like me like-”

“You really like me?” You asked, hopefully. “You mean it, no bull shit?”

His eyebrows rose and he looked absolutely baffled. He released your hand-your heart sunk at the sudden cold-but he quickly reclaimed it, cradling the back while he pressed it against the center of his chest. You looked up in surprise when you felt his heart pounding rapidly against your palm. He stared back at you with a determined gleam in his eyes, but his cheeks were a rosey shade of pink.

“No bull shit.”

He looked at you so earnestly and all you could was stare back in awe. This idiot just barrelled through every ounce of nerve he had and it was all you could do to maintain eye contact. You felt his grip loosening as the hope leaked from his eyes with each second you remained silent. After everything he’d done-the surprise date, studying to impress you, trying to ask you out again-there’s no way you would be the reason this didn’t work out.

Your gaze flickered down to his lips as they moved quickly with nervous chatter that you were too in your head to hear. He deserved something equally bold, you thought, as your hand resting on his chest fisted the material of his sweatshirt, beginning to pull him forward.

“But my sister was like, ‘Yuu no one will like you if you can’t match your socks’ and I was like ‘get out of the bathroom I’m trying to take a-” He paused with a deer-in-headlights stare as you began leaning toward him. “Are you about to punch me?”

You blinked in surprise at his conclusion. “What?”

“Oh my god, were you going to kiss me?” His mouth went slack as a blush crept onto your cheeks. “Holy fuck. Okay, wait-no, don’t wait. I’m ready-wait-I’ve never kissed anyone so don’t have high expecta-”

You rolled your eyes before leaning the rest of the way to press your lips against his. The angle was pretty awkward, your bicep hurt from the awkward position you were propping yourself into, but it was definitely your new favorite way of shutting him up. The kiss probably would have been better if Noya wasn’t all tensed up and not participating though.

When you pulled back you were comforted that Noya’s face was equally as crimson as yours probably was, except he was completely spaced out. You cocked your head and waved a hand in front of his face, jumping in surprise when he jolted up to sitting.

“That wasn’t fair,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger down at you. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Noya, you literally said, ‘I’m ready’.” You snorted, pushing yourself up to sit cross-legged across from him.

“Yeah, but I was still talking!” He said frantically, leaning close into your personal bubble.

“You’re always talking,” you pushed his face back, but he grabbed your hand with pleading eyes. Your heart was fighting hard to beat out of your ribcage from the kiss alone and him being this close was going to give you cardiac arrest.

“Well, I always have something important to say.”

You shook free of his grip and flopped onto your back again. It was your easiest escape route from the conversation. If you had to keep looking at him you were probably going to pass out or something pathetic.

You tried to calm yourself by searching for one of the constellations Noya had explained to you earlier in the night, but was rudely interrupted when Noya’s face replaced the sky. You took a sharp inhale when he placed his hands on either side of your head to help prop himself above you. His gaze dragged slowly across your face with hooded eyes and you decided that he really was intent on killing you that night.

He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally, barely above a whisper, he asked, “can I kiss you?”

Before you could even finish nodding he was pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly sunk into the moment absorbed in the contrast now that you were both fully participating.

As his lips moved slowly against yours you anxiously struggled with what you were supposed to do with your arms. He had shifted onto his forearms so the warmth from his chest radiated across your own, and as your heartbeat in a frenzy you wondered if he could feel it’s rhythm every time your chests pressed together. His fingers became interwoven in your hair and instinctually you gripped at the cotton fabric near his waist to keep yourself grounded.

You realized then that these careful, long kisses with Noya under the moon’s glow might be the most romantic moments in your entire life.

Eventually you had to pull apart, only enough to lay your foreheads against each other while taking exhausted breaths. When your eyes met you both took a moment to take each other in before he broke out into a dopey smile that you couldn’t help but mirror.

“So,” he started casually. “Does this mean you like me too?”

“No, Noya,” you began sarcastically, bringing your hands up to smash his cheeks together. “I spend all of my Saturday’s making out with random people on rooftops.”

“Well, I don’t know.” He gave a half-assed glare that did no damage with his face smushed together. “I just want to make sure I don’t misread anything.”

“I don’t know how you could possibly misread this,” you snorted, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of,” he said, propping himself up while wiggling his eyebrows.

You snorted, pushing against his chest to roll him off of you which he did with an exaggerated whine. A bubble of laughter left you and your head rolled to the side to face him with a bright smile.

“I like you,” you clarified for him, chest tightening at the sun rivaling smile that filled his face. “A lot.”

“Cool,” he let out a breathy laugh and swung an arm over his eyes. You saw him biting down his lip while the corners of his mouth fought their way into a smile. The butterflies in your stomach were in a frenzy over how absolutely adorable he was. You still had a hard time processing that this was actually happening to you.

Noya then turned back to you with a more mischievous look in his eye, “you realize what this means, right?”

“No?”

“It means I get to tell everyone that you have a crush on me,” he smirked, seeming incredibly satisfied with himself.

“Oh no,” your hand flew to your mouth in mock horror, “but my reputation.”

“If anything, I’m going to improve your reputation tenfold.” He rolled onto his stomach so he could grab one of your hands again which you offered to him willingly. Noya’s adoring smile as he played with your fingers made it hard to keep teasing him.

“That’s the opposite of what’s going to happen,” you watched him fondly and your clearly content demeanor didn’t match the mocking words. “Is it too late to take it all back?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, interlocking your fingers together. “You like me. I heard it, and now I’m going to brag about it to anyone within hearing distance.”

“No,” you whined. “You’re the worst.”

“Probably,” He laughed, dragging your conjoined hands to rub the back of your hand against his cheek, “but you get to deal with me now.”

Your eyes softened as he nuzzled against your hand. You couldn’t argue with him on that one, and truth be told you didn’t even hate the idea of everyone knowing about your feelings for Noya. At that moment, you sort of wanted to scream about them over the gymnasium rooftop’s railings for all of Miyagi to hear about.

So, if he wanted to tell every person he ran into that he was officially your problem then who were you to stop him.

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yū #nishinoya yu #nishinoya headcanons #nishinoya oneshot #nishinoya fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #nishinoya imagine

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karlajoyner · 4 years ago

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Omg Ik I write to a lot and your prob sick of but I just got this great idea for a Charlie/Owen fluff+smut. So your having dinner with the guy at your place and your end up talking about how you’ve never had a prom and then he puts on Can I Have This Dance from HSM3 and you dance around the room with him. When the song ends you kiss and he says something smooth about what people do AFTER prom and he treats you to unforgettable ***. I think this is a more Charlie thing to do, works for Owen too.

Can I Have This Dance? (Charlie Gillespie x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys so I finished this one a while ago but I always like the have the request in front of it ready before I start working on the next! Also I really want to change the cover of my JATP Imagine Book on Wattpad but I've realized that my editing skills are now complete shit since I haven't edited something in so long. I just don't know what to do. And yeah I hope you enjoy this one!!

Requested by: @jjbassett (Tumblr)

Warnings: Smut (18+)

————

I quickly rushed around the kitchen attempting to keep the food from burning while still trying to finish getting ready for my date tonight with non other than Charlie Gillespie.

We started seeing each other a few months ago after Soyon, my fashion mentor introduced us.

She informed me that I'd be working with the cast on set everyday to do mainly touch up in their outfits, it was only a matter of time before Charlie and I sparked up a small romance on the side.

It started with the flirtatious comments while Soyon and I dressed him up as his character, Luke.

Then it quickly turned into the small appreciation notes he'd leave in his characters clothing for me to find later.

And now here I was 4 months later cooking dinner for him in my apartment in Vancouver who I fortunately shared with Tori Caro, one of the assistant choreographers.

She was one of the few people that knew about Charlie and I.

So this evening she was spending it with Savannah probably watching movies.

I frustratedly groaned hearing the door knock.

Immediately rushing to remove the apron from my body and throw on my pair of pumps laying by the door.

I ran my fingers through my hair one last time before opening the door to see the brunette standing there in a tuxedo with a bouquet of flowers at hand.

"Hello gorgeous" He smirked sticking his hand out.

"Hello Charlie" I replied taking the bouquet out of his hands.

"They're beautiful" I smiled moving aside so he could enter.

"Not more beautiful than you"

"Your so cheesy"

"Eh what can I say. You bring it out of me" He spoke making me giggle.

"So what are we having for dinner?" As if on cue the alarm went off....But not the one I was expecting.

I quickly dashed toward the kitchen where the noise was coming from.

"Oh crap" I muttered rushing towards the problem nearly tripping on my own two feet.

My eyes widened as black smoke arose from the oven.

Quickly opening the oven door to air it out with a nearby oven mitt.

"We we're gonna have lasagna. That went to shit" I sighed looking up to see Charlie already popping open some windows while I turned off the fire alarm.

"Awww baby" Charlie chuckled walking over to me immediately pulling me into a warm hug.

"I have Chinese on the way" He muttered pressing a kiss to my temple.

"Really? I've fucked up dinner that many times" I internally groaned.

"No, no"

"Don't lie to me Charles"

"Yes" He gave in.

Placing his hand under my chin, titling it upwards to look him in the eyes.

"But that doesn't mean we're gonna let tonight go to waste. How about you go change into some sweats, I go get some extra clothes from my car, and we can put on High School Musical?"

"You'd watch that for me"

"I'm watching it for me" He joked making me giggle.

"Fair enough" I spoke with a tight lip smile as he pulled me in for one last hug.

"I'll learn to cook one day, I promise" I mumbled into his chest.

"I know beautiful. I'll meet you on the couch in 10" He said pecking my lips one last time.

"Okay but could you imagine waking up to that everyday" I exasperatedly spoke pointing at Troy Bolton.

"It can't be better to waking up to this" Charlie grinned flexing his arms.

"Oh no. Nothings better than that. But you gotta admit that mans a god"

"I don't appreciate you talking about my competition like that"

"Zac Efron is your competition?"

"Well now he is"

"I wonder if Kenny still has his number after all these years" I teased the boy before taking another bite out of my egg roll.

Watching as Charlie playfully rolled his eyes.

"Doubt it"

"I guess it's best"

"It really is" Charlie agreed.

"You know I'm only joking" I said taking his hand from across the coffee table.

Pausing the tv to get a good look at his face.

"I know. I just can't help but think if he asked you out on a date while your with me you'd say yes"

"The only thing I would've said yes to that man is if he had asked me to prom 2 years ago. Long before I met you. Maybe I wouldn't have spent that night watching 17 again" I joked making him chuckle.

"You didn't go to prom?" He asked a frown forming on his face.

"Nope. I wasn't very social in high school so I saw no point in it"

"You never told me that"

"Well now you know I guess" I spoke taking a sip of my drink.

Watching as Charlie stood up from his spot in the ground.

"Where are you going? The movies not over. I promise I won't drool over Zac anymore" I swore gazing up at him.

"T-that's not my problem here" He stuttered taking his phone, beginning to click away.

My brows furrowed in confusion as my smart tv began to cast something from an unknown device.

My heart fluttering as a familiar song began to play.

"Seriously?" I questioned watching a grin form on his face.

"Seriously" He confirmed for me.

Making me throw my head back in laughter.

"Can I have this dance?" He asked sticking his hand out for me.

"Yes" I smiled as he helped me to my feet.

I sighed contently as Charlie he wrapped his arms around my waist. My own flying around his neck.

The two of us now swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the music playing in the background.

"I missed you" He whispered gazing into my eyes.

"You saw me yesterday. I helped you get dressed"

"Well then I think it's fair that I help you get undressed" He replied playing with the strap of my cami.

"Smooth" I mumbled placing a quick peck to his lips.

"But I don't see how that's fair. I mean it's my job to dress you and undress you" I bit my lip running my hand down his arm. Intertwining our fingers at the end.

"Well I just want to give you the full prom experience. And you know what happens after prom"

"Tacos?"

"Definitely not tacos" He smirked pulling me in for a passionate kiss.

He was quick to deepen it.

The Chinese takeout on the coffee table long forgotten as we got lost in each other presence.

I let out a huff as he pushed me backwards onto the couch. Our lips fighting for dominance.

He groaned straddling my body beneath him.

Quickly yanking his shirt off his body to expose his beautiful toned torso.

I quickly him back towards me.

Our lips colliding once more as his hands ran up my shirt.

"Take it off" I mumbled against his lips pulling away for a split second to rip off not only my top but the last piece of fabric separating our bare chest.

I let out a breath of relief as Charlie began to leave a trail of kisses down my neck until settling on a spot.

His body grinding into mine, only turning me on even more.

We heavily made out as I toyed with the waistband of his grey sweats and the boxers under them.

Earning a desperate moan from the brunette.

I swiftly pushed down the fabrics allowing his dick to spring free.

He let out a whine as I grabbed the base of his length pumping it a couple of times, watching him become puddy in my own hands.

"I won't last long if you keep doing that" He panted. My hand stopping it's motions right away.

I sat up right pushing off my own sweats and panties before Charlie pushed me back onto the couch connecting his lips with mine.

"Charlie please" I begged opening my legs widely allowing him to position himself at my entrance.

I gasped in surprise as he pushed himself into me without another word.

Instantly his hips began to rock back and forth into me.

My head fell back pleasure as he thrusted into me.

Using his hand to push my leg up for more leverage.

His name fell from my lips repeatedly as he hit my g-spot.

My fingers entangling themselves in his hair as he picked up his speed.

I moaned louder as he began to rub my clit. My orgasm nearing as I felt a familiar pit forming in my stomach.

"I'm gonna-"

"Me too" He cut me off.

My orgasm washed over me. Charlie's coming seconds after.

Moans escaped his lips as he spilled into me before slowly coming to a halt.

We laid there for a moment taking in everything that had just happened. Charlie laying stilled on top of me. My fingers coming up to comb themselves through his now messy hair.

"That was-"

"Amazing" He interrupted me.

"It really"

"Was"

I grinned looking down at him to see his focus already on me. A huge smile plastered on his face.

"This was a big step in our relationship" He stated.

"I know"

"And I don't want to sound cliche" He continued. My eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Where are you going with this Charles?"

"I-I think I'm falling in love with you" My heart leaped as he sat up. Evidently pulling out of me as well.

"Me too" I whispered pulling him back to my lips once more.

————

Up Next: Jeremy Shada x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Reggie Peters x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Reggie Peters x Reader

Carrie Wilson x Reader

Sunset Curve x Reader

————

@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg @jammi13 @theravenclawlife

204 notes · View notes

ronniesshoes · 3 years ago

Text

Keep Yourself Alive

♡ read it on ao3 ♡

"Look alive, love!"

John drops his keys as he enters the flat and doesn't hear the muttered reply. He wrestles off his shoes and hangs his jacket with stiff, slow movements. God, but he's ready for bed.

"Will you hurry up, please," Roger's voice sounds from the living room, "I'm not sure I'll be able to get these out of my arse again."

John hovers in the hall. He had hoped he could slip in unnoticed and go straight to bed.

"That will be the buyer's problem, not ours," Freddie says, voice weary with exasperation, "can you at least try to look comfortable?"

John plans his route. Some form of acknowledgement is required or they'll think he's sick or upset and come running with too much weak tea and host a Twilight marathon in his bed. A short stop in the kitchen, then, to pleasantly answer any inquiries about his day, followed by feigned annoyance as he complains about an unfinished lab report and how there's really no putting it off anymore. The key, John knows, is to avoid eye contact.

The living room, when John steps in, is nothing like he remembers it. Piles upon piles of clothes cover the floor, the couch is upturned, in a corner it looks like Elton John has vomited feathers and sequins over the cat bowls, and Roger's posing in front of a tinfoil covered wall in tight jeans and a distressingly short crop top made of what looks like sheer purple plastic.

"Hi, love." Freddie turns to him with a smile, camera dangling from around his neck. Behind him, Roger tugs at the tight fabric of his jeans and makes a face. "How was work?"

"What the fuck," John says, "happened here?" He spots a vivid, oversized tee on the floor. "Is that my shirt?"

"Have you ever heard of Depop?" Freddie asks, completely ignoring both of his questions.

John nods warily.

Freddie’s expression immediately turns sour. "Really, and nobody thought to tell me about it! Why have I been freezing my arse off every Saturday for the past six months when there's an entire online market just waiting for us?"

Roger shrugs. "I actually thought you enjoyed it."

"It's outdoors," Freddie snaps. "Of course I don't enjoy it."

"But why," John says, sensing that Freddie is about to go off on a tangent, "is the couch upside down?"

Freddie and Roger look at each other.

"It was in the way," Roger says eventually.

"Of what," John asks.

"Our photoshoot," Freddie says, brightening, "do you know how much people will pay for ugly clothes on a pretty model and proper lighting? We're going to make a fortune!"

Roger tugs at the crotch of his jeans again.

John opens his mouth to comment on that but manages to hold his tongue. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. My bed is waiting.”

“Bed?” Roger says, “it’s half eight, mate.”

John starts walking towards his room. Amongst the pile of feathers and sequins he spots the soft washed out fabric of a well known tee. He bends down to pick up his favourite ABBA shirt. He knew Roger had it.

“This is my shirt,” he says, cradling the soft worn fabric, fingers brushing over slippery new plastic, “are you selling my clothes? Why are there sewn sequins on this?”

“That entirely depends,” Freddie says, “on how much people are willing to pay for it.”

“They’re not sewn on very well,” Roger helpfully interjects, “they’ll come right off, don’t worry.”

"Right," John says, ignoring Roger, "you hate 80s clothes, though."

"I don't hate it,” Freddie insists, “I would just prefer not to wear it myself."

"You said it distressed you."

"Be that as it may," Freddie says, bending down to rifle through a pile of clothes on the floor, "all the cool kids like it, so we'll use it to lure them in. Don’t think I haven’t done my research, 80s clothes are the rage right now. Roger, where are all your jeans?”

“They’re still in my closet,” Roger says, “not much point, is there, jeans you can get anywhere. It would be pointless to attempt to sell them.”

“Darling Roger,” Freddie says, cutting in front of John to get to their room. “Everything can be sold if you’re good enough of a seller,” he says, reappearing a moment later with three pairs of jeans, one of which John is almost certain belongs to him, “you of all people should know that, I assure you people don’t sign up for Amnesty out of the goodness of their hearts.”

John and Roger trade glances. John takes that as his cue to leave. “Right, I’m off. Have fun and please clean up after yourselves.”

“No, John, wait,” Freddie stresses, grabbing him by the arm. He holds up a pair of trousers John recognises as Roger’s. “Look at these, these are the real treasures we’ll present them for once we’ve lured them in! You'll look darling in these, love, they'll fit like a dream. Please will you model them for me?”

"Freddie," John groans, "I just got home from work."

"I'll make you coffee!" Freddie says. "Please, John. We’re celebrating that Roger’s test came back negative and we need your help."

“You are not selling it well.”

“The chlamydia part is unrelated,” Roger interjects, “but you could sound more enthusiastic about it. The modelling is really only because Freddie thinks my arse is too flat.”

At John’s look, Freddie merely widens his eyes a fraction and sticks out his bottom lip. He looks ridiculous, and John sighs and lets himself fall into the armchair. "If you make me coffee first I'll play with you. Half an hour, then I'm going to bed."

It’s disconcerting how happy Freddie looks at that.

♛ ♛ ♛

"To our fabulous selves," Freddie cheers, raised glass catching the light from the ceiling lamp and sending off millions of tiny reflections from Roger’s sequined tie, "to Queen!"

They cheer and touch glasses of Tesco’s second cheapest sparkling wine. The end of their first small tour―half of the shows unpaid, as Roger has been fond of pointing out―is celebrated in private. It feels right, John thinks―Brian is leaving tomorrow, and despite protests from Freddie that he deserves a proper going away party, there is something about it just being the four of them together. The flat has been decorated with all sorts of glittery things, Brian is wearing a sparkly party hat, and Roger a sequined tie and not much else. The heating has been turned up for the occasion―a dangerous precedent to set now that Brian’s not going to be there to keep an eye on the thermostat.

“And to Brian,” Freddie adds with warm eyes, voice climbing in volume, “to your wonderful adventure and your wonderful self, may Tenerife be full of stars and the fuckfest of a lifetime!”

Brian lets out a snort and raises his glass in reply. “Thank you, Freddie. Hope the flat is still here when I return.”

“Unlikely,” John says, “there’ll be nothing left but Freddie’s horrible flat iron and Roger’s industrial strength condoms.”

"He’s right, you know," Roger adds from his sprawl on the floor. "If the flat’s not burnt down, it’ll be covered in mold. Who’ll do the dishes when you’re gone? Perhaps we should save them for you."

"Please don't do that," Brian says, brow knitting in distress, "you'll have rats within a week. And you know you could just―"

"Oh I’ll miss your tutting every time someone puts the mugs in the wrong cupboard," Freddie says fondly.

"It’s a very easy system to follow, I honestly don’t see―"

"Or wipe down the counter the wrong way," John adds.

"I'm just saying you could do it more efficiently," Brian insists.

"The thing I'll miss the most is your face in the morning, dear, " Freddie says, leaning forward on his hands, "sets me up for a good day."

"Sadist," Brian mumbles.

"I'll miss your complaints about me singing in the shower," John says, "noise complaints in general, actually."

Freddie extends his leg to nudge Roger’s ankle. "What about you, Rog?"

"I'll miss his big―"

Brian covers his ears and Freddie cackles delightedly.

"―heart, obviously."

"Really?" Brian says, uncertain.

Roger laughs. "Of course not! Your cock, definitely. And your pretty face."

"Glad to know I bring something substantial to the table," Brian grumbles.

"Think that highly of yourself, do you?" John asks, delivering a light slap to Brian’s thigh.

Brian crosses his arms. "You can at least pretend to be sad about it.”

"Oh, come off it, dear," Freddie says, "you know we'll all be bawling our eyes out tomorrow, can't you give us this one evening of peace before then?"

"Reckon we should set up an altar," Roger says, lazily rubbing a hand over his collarbone, "we'll move your bed into mine and John's room so the entire floor is covered by beds, and then we'll turn your side of the room into a shrine and mourn there five times a day."

Brian picks up a piece of toffee wrapping and throws it at him. It falls to the floor pathetically.

"Have you thought about what you might do in your freetime?" Freddie asks, "is it hot enough to lie on the beach all day?"

"I hate the beach," Brian says.

Freddie throws his hands in the air. "Tenerife is wasted on you, honestly.”

“He’d burn the minute he stepped out in the sun,” John says, “it’s probably best you stay inside.”

“He’s not supposed to stay inside, he’s gonna look at the stars,” Roger tells them with feigned self-importance, “don't you guys listen?”

“He’s in dire need of a tan is what he is, and only going out at night certainly won’t help,” Freddie says. He turns to Brian with a frown. “Every time you take your shirt off it’s like looking into the sun.”

Roger snorts loudly.

"You're all mental," Brian is saying, but there’s a pleased set to his mouth. John hides a smile. “Don't know how much free time I'll have."

"Bit hard to look for stars during the day, isn't it?" Freddie asks, which John thinks is a fairly compelling argument.

"Do you really think he's gonna pass up on the opportunity to sleep all day?" Roger asks, "we'll have to catch him around four if we want a chance to speak to him."

"Is there a time difference?" Freddie says, looking to John in askance.

"An hour, is it?"

“There’s no time difference, actually,” Brian says, leaning back on his hands. “I looked it up.”

"We'll have to Skype at least once a week," Freddie says, teeth flashing in an unreserved grin, "you must update us on how finding new planets goes. If you find a new one, name it after me!"

"You know that's not actually what I do, though, right?" Brian says wearily.

"Yes, I know, the zodiacal light," Freddie says, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm just saying that if you happen to stumble upon a new planet, name it after me."

"Perhaps you should do it the other way around," John suggests, pulling Freddie’s leg over his own.

Freddie laughs. "What, like Freddie Saturn?"

"Pluto, more like," Roger says.

"Pluto's not a planet, though," John says.

"I can assure you it is, right, Bri?"

Roger’s leaning forward now, newly filled glass balancing precariously in the palm of his hand. "Which planet rules your sign, Fred?" Brian rolls his eyes.

"Mercury," Freddie says. Pauses. "Huh. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

"Freddie Mercury?” Roger pronounces. Shrugs and grins. “Got a nice ring to it."

"Sounds divine," Freddie says, throwing his head back. He smiles. "Better than Bulsara at any rate."

“I like it,” John says, sticking his tongue out at Brian’s look.

Freddie squeezes his knee and looks brightly at Brian. “Definitely still name a planet after me if you discover one."

Brian doesn’t even bother to roll his eyes. The combination of sparkling wine and the prospect of four months apart must be getting to him, John thinks. "Sure thing, Fred."

♛ ♛ ♛

John's alarm goes off at seven, approximately five hours earlier than he would have liked it to. From the other bed, Roger groans and attempts to bury himself with his duvet. John fumbles for his phone, hits snooze, and promptly falls asleep again.

Seven minutes later, his alarm rings again.

"Turn it off," Roger begs, "for the love of God ..."

John reaches for his phone but knocks it off the nightstand instead. It slips down between the piece of furniture and the wall where it’s impossible to reach, and John worms his way half out of bed and pushes the nightstand to the side. A stack of paper falls to the floor, and Roger groans loudly.

He finally gets hold of his bloody phone, collapsing like a doll with its strings cut the second he manages to turn it off.

“All is pain,” Roger complains in a sleepy mumble from inside his duvet cocoon. John rubs a bleary hand over his eyes to get the crust out, then blindly stretches to feel around for a jumper on the floor. A careful sniff reveals it to be Roger’s, and John drops it to the floor again.

"We're gonna be late, Rog," he says around a wide yawn.

The following mumbles spoken into Roger's pillow sound suspiciously like "don't care."

John lets himself slide onto the cold, hard floor. It’s decidedly unpleasant against his naked torso, so he forces his stinging eyes open and pushes himself to his feet.

"Good morning," Freddie trills as John steps into their shared living space. He's disturbingly chirpy for this early in the morning, as usual, but if John knows Freddie at all, today it's mostly for show.

John utters a mumbled response before stepping across the floor to close the bathroom door behind him, and strips off his underwear before his morning piss and subsequent shower.

When he exits the bathroom some 10 minutes later, Roger has managed to drag himself out of bed, and is currently nursing what looks like a very strong cup of coffee. When John sits down next to him at the table, Freddie produces a cup for him from seemingly out of nowhere. He finds a grateful smile for him, closing his eyes when Freddie's fingers brush over the nape of his neck in passing.

"Need any help, love?" Freddies shouts, knocking on his closed bedroom door before sticking his head in. "Oh, dear. You know we're leaving in half an hour, don't you?"

"I know," sounds Brian's despairing voice.

"Do you want me to make you a cup of tea? Some breakfast maybe?"

"Cup of tea, please."

Freddie waggles his eyebrows as he turns around. Roger appears to have fallen asleep again, and John pokes him with the end of his teaspoon.

"Stop," comes Roger's half-hearted mumble.

Freddie pulls a chair out next to Roger, pokes John with his foot. "You need to get dressed or Brian will do his nut."

John knows he will. "Gonna first finish my coffee."

"We should do something nice after," Freddie says, lowering his voice.

Roger snorts softly. "Freddie, you'll be crying your eyes out, there's no nice once Brian has left."

"Dark," John says.

"I'm not gonna cry," Freddie says, clearly affronted.

John drains the rest of his cup and leaves it on the table to go get dressed. Some of his clothes seem to be mysteriously missing from his wardrobe, he muses as he picks up a pair of trousers from the floor and pulls them on.

"If you've sold any of my clothes," John says when he returns to the kitchen, dressed and slightly more awake, "I want the money."

Freddie and Roger exchange glances. Then Freddie turns to him with a smile that’s all charm and teeth. "Of course, darling. We'll tell you if we sell anything."

Roger resolutely doesn't look at him, and John decides to investigate as soon as they return.

Just then, Brian appears, looking thoroughly harassed and with his suitcase dragging after him. "Right," he says. "I think that's it."

He dumps himself into Freddie's vacated seat. Immediately, Roger's hand comes up to massage the nape of his neck, and Brian's shoulders visibly drop.

"Here's your tea, love," Freddie says.

"Did you call an Uber?" John asks.

"Yes, it should arrive in ten minutes."

John walks into the kitchen and puts a piece of bread in the toaster.

"One for me, please," Roger says.

John refills his cup and searches through the fridge for an edible spread. When the toast is done, he butters one piece and adds two slices of cheese for Roger.

"Thank you," Roger says with fervour, holding his hands out for the plate. He almost drops it in his haste to get his hands on it and bites into the toast with relish.

John wonders where that energy suddenly came from.

"John, come with me," Freddie says suddenly.

Puzzled, John picks up his toast and coffee and follows Freddie into his room.

"Close the door," Freddie says, sitting down on Brian's unmade bed. He pats the space next to him. "Let’s give them a moment. They're not gonna see each other for months, the poor dears."

Had it been anyone else, John would have found it incredibly annoying. As it happens, he instead finds a smile for Freddie. "And you'll be all alone in your large bedroom," he says, holding out his toast for Freddie to take a bite. When Freddie shakes his head and smiles, he shrugs and bites into it himself. He swallows with difficulty. "Must be terribly lonely."

"Terribly," Freddie repeats, "you'll have to divide your time between me and Roger."

"I think I can manage that," John says, leaning against Freddie when he throws an arm around him, "you don't kick as much."

"I really don't," Freddie says, looking thoughtful suddenly. "It worries Brian sometimes."

"That you don't kick?"

"The fact that I hardly move at all."

"Sounds like an ideal sleeping partner to me," John says, even though he thinks he knows what Brian means. It’s a little frightening, if he’s honest.

"The bed is big enough for both of us," Freddie says, and he looks at John like it means something. John hesitates in taking another bite. "But I suppose you don't mind."

“No,” John says, buttery fingers digging into his toast. He’s more than used to sleeping close. “I don’t.”

Freddie gives him a squeeze. “Good.”

♛ ♛ ♛

The drive to the airport seems far too short. Brian can't seem to stop talking in long nervous bursts, and Freddie fires off questions from the front seat, one after another, about the weather forecast, the other students going, if Brian’s made sure there's something he can eat, how many hours they will be working and for the hundredth time, exactly what the job entails. Roger is quiet for most of the ride, but he doesn't take his eyes off Brian; mirrors his smiles, listens when he talks. John looks and listens and tries not to notice.

At the airport, they leave the driver to wait on them and follow Brian like ducklings all the way to security. For a moment they pause, awkwardly, until Roger is forced to step aside for a bloke in a big hat. That seems to break the spell, and Freddie throws himself at Brian who is forced to drop his luggage but doesn’t let go of Freddie. He is crying by the time he releases Brian from their long hug, and Brian looks suspiciously misty-eyed as well.

With a slightly wobbly smile directed at John, Brian opens his arms, and John steps into his embrace, heart tightening.

"Take care of those idiots," Brian says as he hugs John tightly.

"Who will take care of you, then?" John mumbles, and Brian laughs and releases him with reluctance.

John looks into those familiar eyes and sees no signs of hesitation. "You'll have fun," he says, and Brian nods seriously.

Brian and Roger's goodbye hug seems no less crushing, and it's hard to tell who clings to whom. John looks at Freddie and touches his arm. Freddie sends him a wobbly smile in return and briefly leans against him.

Brian chances a quick kiss to the side of Roger's mouth just as he’s releasing him, and Roger snorts and pulls him in for another hug.

"Right," Brian says when he’s finally released, grabbing his bag from the floor, "I'm going to be late. I'll call you as soon as I can. Love you all."

Their goodbyes and love yous follow him as he fumbles with his passport, all the way through the gate until he disappears into the security area. For a moment, they all stand frozen as if expecting Brian to come back. John looks at Roger and Freddie. Then they turn around and head back.

♛ ♛ ♛

The ride home is spent in silence. Roger has his earphones in and is stubbornly looking out the window, and Freddie is worrying his bottom lip and staring straight ahead, hands smoothing over invisible creases in his trousers. John reaches out to squeeze his hand, and receives a tiny smile for his trouble.

Back at the flat, Roger kicks off his boots and heads straight to their room. John spends a moment tidying the row of shoes and picking up a fallen coat from the rack. It takes him a moment before he notices Brian’s pair of clogs missing. He can almost convince himself he’s glad not to be tripping over them for the foreseeable future.

When he enters the flat, it's to find Freddie standing in the middle of the living room looking rather lost. John walks up to him and slides an arm around his waist. Freddie leans heavily against him.

"I miss him so much," Freddie says, voice small. John tips his face up to kiss the top of his head, silently encouraging him to keep talking. "I know it's only a few months, but I don't know what we're gonna do without him."

"We'll be fine," John promises, fingers pushing into the warm skin of Freddie’s side. Freddie looks up, eyes dark and liquid. "Think of all the space you have to yourself."

"I don't want more space," Freddie sniffs, "I'm gonna miss that miserable sod. Do you have any idea how much better it makes my morning to see him slouch into the living room at seven in the morning looking like death?"

John snorts and squeezes Freddie’s arm. “You’re really showing your sympathetic side here.”

"You know what I mean," Freddie mumbles, "we have a routine. Not having him here is gonna turn everything upside-down."

When John thinks about it, he can understand Freddie’s point. They all have their little routines, different dynamics depending on the constellations they happen to appear in. Depending on their schedule, John’s alone with Brian as often as three times a week, even if it’s only an hour or two at the time. He hasn’t thought about the fact that his routine is bound to change with Brian’s absence, and he’s suddenly dismayed he hasn’t taken it into consideration before now.

The mornings and evenings are his and Roger’s alone, sharing the sink and mirror at night while they brush their teeth, the twenty or so minutes after when they're in bed but not sleeping. When the light is off, it’s easier to speak into their warm intimate space, and John finds it loosens his tongue like nothing else. Sometimes Roger will join him in his bed if he can't sleep, and John wouldn't miss it for the world. He wonders if Freddie feels the same way about Brian, if maybe it’s different for him because he’s shared bedtime routines and breathed the same air as Brian has, deep into the night.

Sleeping with Freddie is a different matter entirely, and the few times he’s been in Freddie’s bed, he’s felt like a stranger in his own flat. There are no screens in Freddie's bedroom, but there are string lights and a camp kissy lamp that casts a soft glow onto the bed while Freddie putters around, changes into pyjamas, checks on his plants and picks out an outfit for the next day. Freddie likes being close, likes hugging and kissing and whispering instead of speaking, but for sleep he needs space and will end up on his own sometime during the night. John doesn't mind, but he's so silent and still sometimes John fears he's gone and died in his sleep.

In Brian, John finds a peace and quiet he doesn't think he would be able to do without. Roger and Freddie are loud even when they're quiet, even in their sleep, but with Brian, John can recharge his batteries the same way as if he’s alone. He likes their quiet studying, their cups of tea on opposite ends of the couch when Roger and Freddie are out, Brian's soft curiosity, his undemanding inquiries about John's day. Because as much as John loves Roger and Freddie, he has something in common with Brian that he doesn't find in the others, and it strikes him that he will have to do without for the next couple of months. Suddenly, it feels like a small eternity.

A soft hiccup shakes Freddie’s body, and John looks at him to find him crying silently.

“I’m fine,” Freddie croaks, tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, honey.” He envelopes Freddie in a tight hug. “He’s doing fine, you know that, don’t you?”

Freddie shakes his head, fingers tight over John’s back. “But what if he’s not coming back? What if he decides he doesn’t want to make music anymore or if he makes new friends and never returns?”

“Those are all valid concerns,” John says as soothingly as he can, “but you know he’ll at least come back to collect his things. You’ll see him again.”

Apparently that’s not the right thing to say, because Freddie just cries harder.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” John says and rather inappropriately wants to laugh. “You know he could never stay away from the band.”

"You don't know that," Freddie sniffs.

"Want to text him and ask?" John asks, feeling like he's talking to a small child.

Freddie shakes his head. "Sorry, I'm such a mess. You know I don't do separation very well."

"I know," he whispers into Freddie's hair, "but he'll be back before you know it."

Freddie nods and steps back from John’s embrace to dab the skin beneath his eyes with careful fingers. “How’s my make-up?”

“Still intact,” John tells him. He squeezes Freddie’s arm. "We can work on the new material tomorrow if you want. Brian recorded a few things before he left, and I know Roger is working on a song as well."

"I have a song as well," Freddie says, reaching for John's hand to idly play with his fingers. "Your fingers are so rough," he mumbles.

John looks on, amused.

"Not that that's a bad thing, of course" Freddie is quick to assure him.

“Of course,” John says gravely.

Freddie hums gently. John’s beginning to feel a bit cold like this, standing in the middle of the room.

"There's this new showing at the Globe this weekend," Freddie says, "do you want to go?"

"Don't think I can afford it this month," John says, pressing an apologetic kiss to his shoulder.

"Hm," Freddie says, "we'll go some other time."

"Maybe Chrissie would like to," John says, remembering Veronica’s mention of Chrissie’s Shakespeare course this semester. "I think she's into theatre."

"Might be fun," Freddie says, "good to talk to new people, can't hang around you lot all the time."

John lets out a soft snort. "How's Mary doing, by the way?"

Freddie’s face turns thoughtful. "It's been a while since I've seen her. We were supposed to meet up this Wednesday, but she had to cancel. Got a new boyfriend, the poor dear."

John smiles. “Boyfriends,” he says, pulling Freddie in for a kiss. “Terrible things.”

♛ ♛ ♛

It's dark outside before Roger reappears. Freddie has been working on his iPad, and John has played Mario Kart on a continuous loop. It's unsatisfying but helps pass the time, morphs the long, slow hours into a manageable stretch. The entire flat feels compressed and John doesn't think he could move even if he wanted to. Ever so often, he catches Freddie staring into space.

The creak of their bedroom door makes John jerk. Roger is shuffling his feet, looking exhausted. John pauses his game, and Freddie puts his iPad aside.

"Hi, love."

Roger moves to sit on the armrest of the couch. Freddie wraps his arms around his middle. "Are you okay?"

Roger nods and leans against Freddie. He looks muted and tired. John is not going to pretend to know what to say.

"Hungry?" Freddie works like a champ, asks all the questions John would never think of. Freddie's sadness is the only sadness John knows how to handle, the only one that doesn't feel heavy and awkward. "We haven't eaten yet, we thought you might wanna order in?"

Roger shrugs uselessly. "I'm not really hungry," he says, and his voice is hoarse with disuse. A part of John thinks it's unfair that he's afforded this much attention just for shagging Brian, like suddenly he's this fragile thing and John's not allowed to tell him to pull himself together.

John’s feelings must show on his face, because when Roger looks at him, he seems to suddenly shake himself.

“Maybe a little later,” he says, forcing a smile. John thinks he manages relatively well all things considering. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

By 11, they all retreat to Freddie and Brian’s bedroom. Roger crawls into Brian’s bed, looking so small and lonely that John forgets his earlier reservations and settles in next to him, wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. Freddie appears moments later with pillows and duvets and arranges everything so they’re squished together. It’s in the dark quiet space that John starts to realise that it really is happening, that Brian is gone for four entire months, and that somehow, they have to make do without him. It feels suddenly like he’s being forced into adulthood rather cruelly, and he wishes he had spent more time preparing himself mentally.

“I miss him so much it hurts,” Roger speaks into the duvet, voice a quiet croak. ”I know it’s not ... He’s doing what he needs to do, I know that, but … God, it’s not even been 16 hours.”

Freddie brushes a stray lock of hair off Roger's forehead. “It hurts us, too,” he whispers, “and Brian, he’s probably terrified, but to think―he made the decision all on his own. He’s doing what he’s dreamt of ever since he was able to open a book.”

"I know," Roger whispers, "and I want him to have this experience. But, God,” he lets out a small laugh, “I feel so silly."

John captures a freezing foot between his calves in hopes of warming it. Roger sighs as Freddie strokes a hand through his hair.

"At least I've got you two," he says, "don't know what I'd do without you."

"Seconded," Freddie says. His eyes glint when they meet John’s own across Roger’s limp form. John smiles.

"Do you want to do something fun tomorrow?" Freddie asks, fingers stroking over the duvet.

Roger is quiet for a while. "I think I have an idea."

"Oh?"

Roger yawns widely. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Gonna sleep now."

John snorts and presses a light kiss to Roger's temple, tucks the duvet underneath himself, grateful for Brian's king sized duvet, large enough to easily cover all three of them. It's a wonder he has one, really―Brian always struck him as the kind of bloke who’d sleep in a single bed because he felt like he deserved it.

He wonders how Brian is really doing. His goodnight text had been short but full of exclamation marks, something that’s incredibly jarring coming from Brian, but John doesn't blame him for being over-excited. He’s not sure how he would fare in a similar situation. Living in such close quarters with his friends has messed him up beyond repair, he’s sure―going anywhere without them is bound to be lonely. It feels substantial, this change, and it hasn’t even been a full day yet. Four months is not an eternity, but John can't help but suspect once Brian comes back, everything will have changed.

♛ ♛ ♛

“Where’s Roger?”

It takes a moment for John to understand the question. It helps when he opens his eyes to find Freddie’s face a bit too close for comfort but an otherwise empty bed.

He gives Freddie a gentle push, and is glad when he moves away to give him space. Wearily, he drags a hand over his eyes, stretches his aching back, and looks back at Freddie, who’s got his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyebrows drawn down with worry.

“The loo?” John guesses. The words catch in his throat, and he clears it.

“He’s supposed to be asleep,” Freddie says. He’s not dressed yet, and a few dark hairs stick up from the neck of his shirt. “It’s only half seven.”

No wonder John feels tired. Then it dawns on him. “Why are you still in bed?

“Didn’t want to wake you. When I woke up, he was gone.”

John struggles to sit up. His head feels heavy, and his jaw clicks when he yawns. “Think he went back to our room?”

“His shoes are gone.” Freddie’s eyes are huge and worried. “He’s done something stupid.”

“He’s out for a smoke,” John tries to calm him down, “or he’s gone to the library to get wifi. Or Tesco for self pity snacks.”

“Should we call him? What if he ignores it? What if it’s too late?”

John swallows down a groan. He drags a hand through his hair before he lets it drop back to the mattress. “Brian’s away for four months. That’s six times the time they’ve been together. Roger is happy and healthy and while he might miss Brian, I assure you he’s not trying to off himself.”

Freddie doesn't look convinced, and John lets himself fall back on the pillows. He doesn't bother to cover his yawn. Freddie looks down at him, chewing away at his bottom lip.

"Have you had breakfast yet?"

Freddie shakes his head no.

Accepting that he's not getting any more sleep, John rolls over, presses an approximation of a kiss to the body part closest to him which just so happens to be Freddie's knee, and sits up. "Let's go get something to eat, then."

Immediately following the coffee making process, John hangs over his cup while Freddie paces the living room, anxiously checking the door every once in a while. As soon as it's cooled down enough to drink without burning his tongue, John knocks his coffee back, relishing the spark of caffeine.

"Sit down," he tells Freddie, and Freddie complies, but he's still tapping an anxious rhythm on the table. "I’m gonna make breakfast. Are scrambled alright?"

Freddie looks up and nods. The smile he sends John is forced, but John has known him long enough that he knows Freddie's worries rarely become a reality, however uncomfortable they must be for him. He truly is the mum friend of the group.

"Why don't you put some music on?" John asks while he searches the fridge for eggs. While not as bad as Brian, he's not fond of conversation this early in the morning, but it's clear that Freddie needs something else to focus on.

"Okay," Freddie says. It's a moment before John hears him get up, but when he turns around, Freddie is crouching in front of their record collection.

The record he puts on is not one John is too familiar with , but it seems to calm Freddie, at least enough for him to offer his help.

"You can toast a few slices if you'd like," John says, not sure what else to make him do.

Freddie does just that, then hangs around like he’s not sure what to do while John whisks the eggs and adds milk, salt, and lots of pepper.

“Will you lay the table, please?”

They eat their breakfast in silence, John’s eggs towering on top of his toast, Freddie’s neatly buttered and cut into triangles separated from his scrambled eggs.

When both plates have been scraped clean and John still hasn’t come up with a way to wipe the worried look off Freddie’s face, he gets up from his seat and pulls Freddie with him. "Come on, let's go for a walk.”

Freddie resists him, body heavy and limp, but John easily pulls him to his feet. He makes a face. "I don't want to go for a walk," Freddie groans, "I want to stay here and wait for him."

John steps into the hall to get their coats. "He won’t get here faster by our waiting around,” he says, throwing Freddie's coat to him. He doesn't catch it, but it hits him in the chest and falls to the floor. “If we're lucky, we might find him in a ditch somewhere.”

"You can't say that!"

“I'm going,” John tells him, stepping into his unlaced boots. He reaches for his jacket.

"You're so cruel to me, darling," Freddie says, but he does pick up his fur from the floor and reluctantly puts it on.

"Someone's gotta. Come along, he might be back when we get home."

♛ ♛ ♛

“Do you want to go to Brick Lane?" John asks as they step outside, shoulders drawing up to ward off the cold. He's not looking forward to being dragged through vintage store after vintage store or make his way through crowds of hipsters, but usually some shopping is a safe bet when Freddie’s down.

Freddie shakes his head and looks like he’s going to turn around and walk back inside, so John bodily pulls him along in the direction of the park. As soon as they get there, Freddie spots a bench and sits down, shoulders slumped. John stands next to him for a while, looks at the playground and the colourfully bundled up children, listens to the squeals of laughter and the sound of passing cars. When he looks down at Freddie again, he's looking thoughtful, but soon enough shakes out of his reverie and pats the seat next to him.

"Come sit down, honey."

John does, and Freddie immediately puts his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm not much fun today, darling."

"I don't care," John says, "I like being around you no matter what mood you're in."

Freddie doesn't reply, but he squeezes John's arm.

The silence has eased into something comfortable when Freddie speaks again.

“Sometimes I worry you haven’t forgiven me.”

John glances at him but doesn’t move. “What makes you think that?”

Freddie’s hands are buried deep in his pockets, feet crossed at the ankles. “I can’t see why you should.”

John thinks they’ve been over this before. “Have I given you any reason to doubt that I have?”

Freddie shrugs. “No.” He pauses, pulling his upper lip over his teeth. “Sometimes it feels like you think about it.”

John turns his body towards Freddie, forcing him to move his head. “Not as often as you think,” he says, searching Freddie’s eyes. “But I can’t just forget it, even if I don’t hold it against you. You know I don’t blame you. But I don’t like that you’re reading into every little pause I make.”

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says, “I know I deserve it.”

That’s not exactly what John was saying. He tells Freddie as much.

Freddie says nothing for a long moment. Nearby, a child screams with delight.

“I know, dear. I’m sorry.”

When John reaches out to touch him, he almost expects Freddie to shatter like fine china. He doesn’t, but he laces their fingers together and squeezes until it hurts John’s hand a little.

“I think therapy is going to do me a lot of good.��

“Yeah?”

Freddie nods, looks out over the park. “She sounded nice, too. Just wish I was further up on the waitlist. Should’ve gone right after. Apparently they won’t let you jump the queue when it’s been this long.”

John rubs his thumb over Freddie’s knuckle. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Do you ever wonder if you should’ve gone?” Freddie asks. He glances back at John. “I know it’s not the same, but you never went, did you?”

“No,” John says, “I didn’t. I wanted to deal with it myself.”

“Ha,” Freddie says. “I know that feeling.”

John squeezes his hand and thinks about all the things that run through Freddie's head. It makes him wonder how many silences and words and laughters are being turned over in his mind, how much of it stems from that horrible accident, and how much of it existed in Freddie's brain long before.

"What do you think Brian's doing right now?"

John smiles. "Sleeping, I presume."

Freddie’s brows knit together. "I should hope not, he's in Tenerife! I've never been," he adds, almost as an afterthought. "Haven't been traveling much, really, not after I came to London."

John kicks a pebble on the ground. "Me neither.”

"I know we were joking yesterday, but I won’t stand it if he comes home with a better tan than mine," Freddie says. He lets go of John’s hand. “Do you want to go back? Bit cold.”

John nods and gets to his feet. "Unless he gets a tan from the stars, you don’t need to worry, I don't think."

Freddie loops his arm through John's. "Do you think he'll write songs while he's there?"

"Probably," John lies. In all likelihood, Brian is just barely surviving, and there’s a good chance song writing is the least of his concerns.

"Let's make hot chocolate when we get home," Freddie says, clearly in a better mood, "I'll make it and we'll watch a movie."

"I need to finish my readings," John says, “but if you promise not to set the kitchen on fire, I'll rush through them while you make hot chocolate."

Freddie’s smile is bright and genuine. “Deal.”

♛ ♛ ♛

They're halfway through the world’s most boring French movie when the door finally opens, and Freddie jumps up from his seat.

"Where have you been?" he all but roars, so much that Roger looks a little taken aback when he appears in the doorway.

"Hi, Rog," John says, sketching a little wave.

"I've been worried sick," Freddie accuses, "you could have left a note!"

"I've just been ... out," Roger says, looking at John instead of a fuming Freddie.

"I know all about your ‘outs’, Roger Taylor," Freddie says, "which is why I was so worried! Where have you been?"

"Let me just get my coat off, Jesus."

John crawls over the backrest of the couch to put on the kettle.

Freddie is still standing with his arms crossed, eyes digging holes in the back of Roger's head. "So?" he demands when Roger reappears.

"I quit," Roger says, and John turns to look at him. He looks pleased and happy in a way he hasn't for some time.

"You quit your job?" Freddie says with a slight frown. "How are you gonna pay rent?"

Roger rolls his eyes and smiles. "Jesus, you sound like Brian. Sit down, Fred. No, I didn't quit my job, although I did talk to them today. I dropped out of uni."

John almost drops his mug. It's clear that Roger is trying to come off as nonchalant, but there's genuine excitement in his eyes, and the way he carries himself seems lighter. Even Freddie has fallen silent.

"For good?"

"For good," Roger confirms. "And then I talked to the guys at Amnesty, but I couldn't get more hours, or it wouldn't make sense to, so I walked around from store to store asking if they needed someone. Which none of them did, unfortunately. But then I found this temp agency and applied for a job at this warehouse, and you know what, the pay is much higher, especially if you work night shifts."

Freddie’s eyes warm. “That’s wonderful news, darling,” he enthuses.

“You’re not sharing a room with him,” John snipes, but he doesn’t mean it, not really.

Roger sticks out his tongue. “I’ll have much more time to spend on band stuff now,” he says, “I think this could really be it.”

“And you’re sure about this?” John can’t help but ask. It’s not like Roger has ever been invested in his education for as long as John has known him, but he thought the switch to biology at least had made it better.

Roger pulls out a chair and sits down. “I am. One hundred percent. And even if I did change my mind, I can go back once the fall semester starts.”

Unprompted, Freddie bends over at the waist and laughs and laughs. John and Roger exchange glances.

“What’s up, Fred?”

Freddie attempts to reply, but all that leaves him is a delighted squeak. Roger aims a kick at him but misses by a long shot.

“I’m just―fuck,” Freddie sputters, “Brian’s gonna castrate you when he finds out.”

John loses an inelegant snort.

Roger groans and drops his head in his hands. “Oh fuck.”

♛ ♛ ♛

"Come on," Freddie urges, bouncing up and down on the couch. "He's online!"

"Tea, Freddie?" John asks, sharing a smile with Roger over his emptying of a pack of biscuits.

"Please," Freddie says, "whatever you're having. But hurry, I'm calling him now!"

Roger snickers at his obvious enthusiasm, discards the empty pack in the bin beneath the sink, and walks over to join Freddie on the couch. John knows he's been in contact with Brian every day, has walked in on them speaking on the phone more than once, but for all his apparent nonchalance, there's a glint of anxiety in his eyes that doesn’t fool John.

Once John has brought over their cups, Freddie presses the call button, and they wait long moments, the obnoxious Skype calling sound loud in the room. At last, Brian appears on the screen, not exactly HD, but enough that they can make out both hair and face.

He smiles when he sees them, and they all instantly copy him. John chances a glance at the small screen showing their picture at the bottom, and concludes that they look pretty stupid. He reckons Brian is used to it by now.

Brian sketches a small wave. "Hi guys," he says, and that seems to shake everyone out of their stupor.

"Roger dropped out of university!" Freddie all but shouts before anyone can get a word in.

Roger groans and lies down on the couch, effectively removing himself from the picture.

"Sorry," Freddie says, "but he did! And he got another job!"

"That's … interesting," is what Brian settles on. There's a small furrow between his brows, and John stifles a laugh.

"Who would've thought?"

"Can we―can I please tell the story myself?" Roger asks, reappearing next to Freddie, and Brian’s face softens, "and preferably some other time."

"It's good news," Freddie insists, "he's so happy! And very productive. You wouldn't believe it!"

"I'm not sure I do," Brian says, "what's up, Rog?"

"Really would prefer to tell you later," Roger mumbles, and John doesn't think he's seen Roger act this shy ever. He files that information away for later.

"What've you been up to, Brian?" John asks, "the whole place is falling apart without you."

Brian frowns. "What happened?"

"Freddie's been crying ever since you left―"

"I have not!"

"―and Roger has dropped out of college and taken up a job in a warehouse. I haven't seen either of them eat in several days."

"He's exaggerating," Freddie says, giving John a light shove, "we do miss you really a lot, though."

John returns Freddie’s shove and turns his attention back to Brian. "How's the weather?"

"It's very nice, actually," Brian says, "a bit too hot for me, but I do feel much more energetic."

"And the studies?"

"It's so interesting," Brian enthuses, "we've got loads done already, and my professor seems very pleased."

"Did you find any gay clubs yet, darling?" Freddie asks, bumping into John to avoid Roger's hit to his arm.

"Haven't had time to do that much exploring, I'm afraid," Brian says. "Think it's more your lane, Fred."

“We’ve been to plenty,” John says drily, "we go there just to flex on single people.”

"Why would that not surprise me?" Roger mutters.

"We're gonna have a look at the parts you recorded before you left," Freddie says, "we're gonna play around for a bit later, do you want us to send you a tape if it turns out good?"

"Yes, I'd appreciate that," Brian says, "how's it going anyway?"

"Well, Roger’s been talking and writing to some people," Freddie says, "there was this one guy who initially seemed pretty interested, but we haven't heard anything yet. And we spoke to one of the venues, the one in Bristol, and they’d been very pleased and would like us to play there again sometime."

"Oh, that's great news," Brian says.

"No one's interested in the album, though," Roger said, "I have sent that tape to everyone and their mother and no one cares. But a fair number of people have listened on Soundcloud since the tour, so I suppose that’s something."

"Just give it a bit more time," Freddie says, "we can't do anything without Brian anyway. If we just concentrate on sharing our music and create new content we should be fine for now."

"Once we publish the nude shoot, we'll probably get some attention," John says. He knows Tim is still in the process of developing them and playing around with that, but the digital ones he sent had looked good. If John's honest, he doesn't mind Tim’s absence.

"You'll just stay and work on your gorgeous project, darling," Freddie says, "we'll make sure to run the business here. Roger told me you'd been working on some more songs right before you left."

"Yes," Brian says, "they're still in the early stages but hopefully I'll have time to work on them while I'm here. And if you send me a recording I can offer my opinion on that if you'd like."

"Bold of you to assume we'd like your opinion on anything," John says, and Brian looks offended for a moment before he relaxes into a smile.

"I suppose I am feeling pretty bold at the moment," he says, stretching, "it's the D vitamin, I'm sure."

Roger and John exchange glances.

"Have you talked to your parents, dear?"

"For a bit yesterday," Brian replies, "luckily neither of them have social media so we had to keep it short."

John grins. "Lucky you."

"This call is more pleasant, I'll admit," Brian says.

"Not as pleasant as the call between you and Roger last night I presume," Freddie says.

Roger, who's been sitting back, kicks him, and pretty hard by the looks of it if Freddie rubbing his shin is any indication.

"Darling, you're so violent," Freddie grumbles.

Through the grainy picture of his webcam, Brian looks a bit like he wants to die. "So what've you been up to?"

"Working," John says, receiving an appropriately pitying look from Brian. "Freddie took Chrissie to see a play at the Globe."

"Oh really?"

"John was skint and Roger won't let me drag him anywhere anymore because he's busy wanking over the thought of your return," Freddie pouts.

"On your bed," Roger says, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Freddie rolls his eyes.

Brian clears his throat. “How’s Ziggy doing?”

As one, they all turn their heads to look at the cat in question. It’s stretched out in the armchair and looking indecently content. Its tail twitches.

Freddie picks up Roger’s laptop and turns it around so Brian can see. “He misses you, darling, won’t stop talking about you.”

“Hi Ziggy, love,” comes the tinny sound of Brian’s voice.

Ziggy doesn’t move. John swallows a laugh and avoids eye contact with Roger.

Freddie frowns and puts the laptop back on the table. Only the lower halves of their faces are immediately visible. “I’m sorry, love, I think he's asleep.”

“Freddie, the screen―”

“What’s wrong with―oh. Thanks, darling,” Freddie says, watching as Roger tilts the screen of his laptop. He turns back to Brian and bares his teeth in a brilliant smile.

“So,” he says, “about those gay bars―”

♛ ♛ ♛

"Can you let Tim in? He's coming over in a bit," Roger tells him one day as he’s getting ready to go to work.

John feels like someone has kicked him gently in the chest. "Now?"

It must show in his voice, because Roger looks up from lacing his boots. "Yeah. Something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” John says, heart speeding.

Roger doesn’t quite look like he believes him, but he’s running late, and settles on, “right, he’s only here to drop off the developed pictures. Shouldn’t be a minute.”

“Right,” John says. He forces a smile. “Enjoy work.”

“Off to recruit people,” Roger says, “reckon I’ll be back around four. Have fun.”

“Bye, Rog.”

As the door slams behind Roger, John turns back to his book, but finds it difficult to focus. He gets up from the couch, starts on the dishes, abandons them halfway through. He makes himself a fresh cup of coffee, eats a few crackers that have been out for too long and lost their crunch.

When the doorbell rings, John ignores it for all of 30 seconds. Then his conscience gets the better of him and he buzzes Tim in and opens the front door before returning to the couch.

Tim appears a minute later, closing the door behind him. "Hi, John."

John tilts his head in greeting and looks back on his marked page without reading a single word.

"Got the pictures from the shoot," Tim says after a beat.

John looks up.

Tim pauses. "Want to see them?"

John bites the inside of his cheek. "Okay,” he says, and Tim joins him on the couch.

The pictures are stunning, nothing like John could have imagined from their silly photoshoot in their small, messy flat. There’s no denying Tim is seriously talented, but of course John’s not going to tell him that.

"Do you like them?" Tim asks when John still doesn't comment on them. He's not the most talkative bloke usually, but it's increasingly apparent he's struggling to keep conversation going. Which is not really John's problem, he supposes.

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "They're pretty good, yeah. Thanks for bringing them over."

"Right," Tim says. Stuffs the photos back in the envelope and thrusts them into John's hand. He stands. "I'll head back, then."

John nods, eyes settling on the blank screen of the television. When Tim doesn't leave, he slowly turns around, irked, one eyebrow raised in question.

"I'm sorry about what happened at the party," Tim says, and John bristles at the mention. So much for thinking he was over it. "I didn't know the two of you were together. I wouldn't have said anything otherwise."

John narrows his eyes without meaning to. "It's not about what you said," he says tonelessly.

Tim frowns. "You’re just rude for nothing, then?"

"You took advantage of him when he was drunk,” John says hotly, “did you expect a warm welcome from me?"

"I didn't have sex with him, though," Tim says cooly.

John rolls his eyes.

"No, really. Didn't Roger tell you?” Tim looks annoyed now. “Didn't Freddie?"

John crosses his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tim runs a hand through his hair. "Do you guys ever communicate, seriously? I cleared everything up with Freddie. I thought he'd told you?"

John’s skin prickles. "Told me what?"

"Freddie got absolutely piss-wasted," Tim says, "which you would’ve known if you lot hadn’t left without him, by the way," he snipes, and John bristles, "so I let him sleep in my bed while I slept on the couch."

John pauses. His brain seems unable to keep up suddenly. “That doesn’t make sense."

"You think it makes more sense that I perve on my drunk friends?" Tim snaps, “is that what you all think of me?”

"I don't know," John says, softly now, "I'm not your friend, am I?"

"Well," Tim says, "bit hard to get to know you, I never hear you talk."

"Maybe if you were more approachable,” John says, fingers digging into the backrest of the couch. “Less aloof."

"Right," Tim snaps, "got no feelings, this one."

John suddenly feels bad for him. He can't really help his feelings, and if it really is a misunderstanding, John should give him the benefit of the doubt. "I’m sorry.”

Surprise flickers over Tim's face. "What are you sorry for?"

"Doubting you," John says, "jumping to conclusions. And I know rejection is probably not much fun."

Tim sniffs. "Bit of a bruised ego," he says, "especially after countless misunderstandings. Could've done without that. But I'll be alright."

"Good," John says, and finds that he means it.

Tim shifts from one foot to another. "Makes sense, though."

"What?"

"You and Freddie," Tim says, and there's just the slightest hint of vulnerability in his voice.

John smiles. "Your photographs are really good," he says. "You should send them in somewhere."

"Might not need to if you get famous," Tim says. Tentatively mirrors John’s smile. "Thanks."

John reaches for the envelope again. "I liked the second shot especially, the way you’ve almost mirrored it? It’s really a nice effect."

Tim immediately brightens. "Recently I've been quite interested in stereography," he admits, "there was this gorgeous exhibition last month. Might still be on."

"Really?" John says, instantly interested. "I read a book on it last semester as a part of a course. Or, well, it was additional reading."

Tim pulls out his phone. "I'm pretty sure it's still on," he says, scrolling through his phone. "Ah, yes, until the third. We can go together if you want to?"

John looks at him, surprised. "I'd love to."

Tim smiles and pockets his phone. "Great. I'm free for most of next week if that'll work for you?"

John thinks about it. "I've got work tomorrow and Wednesday. Thursday I've got a morning class, but I'm free rest of the day."

"I have an early meeting at uni on Thursday as well," Tim says, "I can pick you up after class if you'd like?"

John smiles. "That sounds great."

Tim returns his smile. "I really have to go now," he says, "but it was great talking to you, John. I'll see you Thursday. Got my number?"

"Think so," John says, "or I'll get it from Freddie or Roger."

"Good," Tim says, "tell Brian hello when you talk to him."

"Will do. See you around."

When the door closes, John sits back, musing that he might just have made a friend―an unlikely one, but a welcome one nonetheless. Maybe Brian’s not the only one who’s in for new experiences, he muses. Maybe this is a time for change for all of them.

♛ ♛ ♛

“Would you stop picking at it,” Freddie is saying later that evening, clearly exasperated.

He and Roger are both back from work and have long since finished dinner.

“I’m not,” Roger says, hiding his hands under the table.

“Don’t you have gloves you can wear? Or a knife to use instead?”

“I have both,” Roger says, “but it gets so hot with the gloves on, and I’m too impatient to use the pocketknife. Do you have any idea how satisfying it is to rip a cardboard box open with your bare hands?”

“I assure you I do not,” Freddie says.

John gets up from the couch to put their cups in the sink. "I think I'm sleeping in Freddie's room tonight," he tells Roger as Freddie disappears into the bathroom.

"That's fine," Roger replies with a smile, picking at one of the numerous cuts on his hands again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

John waves at him and tells him goodnight, then lets himself into Freddie and Brian’s bedroom. It's positively freezing in their room so he undresses quickly and dives under the covers so fast he hits his shin on the rococo frame. On Brian's desk chair, Ziggy gets up and stretches, jumps onto the floor and into the bed to knead at John's chest. John squirms away until it gives up, and leaves the bedside lamp on.

He's almost asleep by the time Freddie comes back.

Freddie undresses quietly, folds his clothes before putting them in his hamper, and minds John when he crawls into bed. John pushes himself onto his elbows.

"I thought you were asleep," Freddie says, smile soft in the darkness.

“Freddie,” John says. He’s waited all day, has waited ever since Tim’s visit.

Freddie pauses, duvet pooled in his lap. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I talked to Tim today,” he says, watching the flicker of emotion on Freddie’s face. When Freddie doesn't respond, he presses on. “He told me nothing happened. Is that true?”

Freddie sucks on his bottom lip.

John releases his breath in a long sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would matter,” Freddie says, fingering the duvet. “It makes no difference.”

John sits up properly now. “It makes quite the difference, I’d say. You ask about my forgiveness, but you keep so much hidden from me. How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I don’t think you can,” Freddie says, voice small. “I would’ve done it, you know, if Tim had offered. Not because I want him but because he asked. It just would’ve been easy.”

John thinks back to his conversation with Roger before the concert. Didn’t he seem to have an idea of what was going on?

“Is this about Jim?” John asks, surprising himself.

Freddie’s eyes are huge and liquid brown. He shakes his head.

“Then what is it?”

Freddie’s still shaking his head, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “It’s too ugly.”

John reaches a hand out to interlace their fingers, unable to refrain from touching him. “That doesn’t scare me.”

“If I’d slept with Tim, you might have left me, but at least it would’ve been my own fault. I’d know why you left.” Freddie shrugs helplessly. “Better than to have you realise someday how messed up I am.”

“Freddie, I already know that,” John says, squeezing his hand, “I know that you’ll be irrational at times and I know you have doubts and fears but so do I, and I want to help, at least as much as you’ll let me.”

“I cheated on you,” Freddie whispers, voice wobbly, “I got so scared when Tim told me he was in love with me, I didn’t want to, didn’t trust myself. And when I woke up―” His voice breaks, and John draws him in for a hug, lips pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. “When I discovered what I had done, I was so afraid of what would happen to you.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” John says, dropping his voice to something soft and soothing. “Nothing happened. You’re okay, we’re okay. You can tell me these things, Freddie. I promise I won’t hold them against you. I care about you so much.”

"I hurt you so much," Freddie says, "and I’m afraid I’ll do it again. I don't know how to stop."

"That’s what therapy’s for, isn’t it?" John says, rocking them both gently back and forth. "To help you work through these things."

Freddie nods into his chest, clinging to him like a child. "I want to get better," he says, "I want to do better. I'm so sorry."

John strokes careful fingers over his hair. "Just no more lies, okay? You can tell me. If you have any doubts, please let me help you."

"I don't want you to leave me," Freddie whispers, and the sound of it breaks John’s heart, "I want you here with me. Even as a friend. Even if we don't make it, promise we can still be friends."

Freddie tips his face towards him, and John looks into those familiar eyes. They could soothe all the hurt he’s ever felt. “Nothing could keep me away from you.”

♛ ♛ ♛

It’s dark when John wakes, and Freddie is still asleep, so he feels safe to assume it’s still night. His limbs feel stiff and cold from the open window, and the bed is so big he feels miles away from Freddie, even if he can reach out an arm and touch him. Freddie is on his stomach, arms glued to the side of body, hands tucked under his thigh and chest like he’s trying to make himself take up less space. Roger’s right, these beds are wasted on Freddie and Brian.

Freddie breathes so silently John can’t hear, but he drags himself closer, puts his head between the wings of Freddie’s shoulder blades to feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Instantly comforted, he drapes an arm around Freddie’s waist, warming his fingers under the hem of his shirt. It doesn’t take long before he’s asleep again.

♛ ♛ ♛

The next weeks seem to pass by in a blur, and John almost doesn't notice spring arriving until one day, Freddie picks him up after work to take him to the park. The sun is warm on John's face as they walk together, and Freddie is wearing sunglasses, and when they reach the park, Freddie produces a thin blanket to lay on the ground. In his tote he's got fruit salad and chocolate mousse, and John stretches out on the blanket as Freddie sits crossed legged next to him and asks him questions.

“What intrigued you most about me before we started dating?”

“When you were 10, what did you think your life would look like today?”

“What is something you’ve learnt about yourself recently? Have you learnt anything new about me?”

John does his best to answer each and every one and is halfway through a story about a misplaced banana suit when his phone vibrates, and Freddie passes it to him. On the screen is a message from Roger, asking him to call.

"It's Roger," John murmurs, pressing the call button and putting it on speaker.

"Hey, John," comes Roger's cheerful voice. "Is Freddie with you?"

"Yes, he's here," John says, following a slowly passing cloud with his eyes. He smiles when Freddie lies down next to him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Great," Roger says, "I found a studio that’s five quid cheaper than the one we used last time, and even cheaper if we use it on off hours."

"Really?" Freddie asks, "that's great news."

"Yes, it seemed pretty great," Roger continues, "the bloke who showed me around said they’re used to working with people who are less experienced, which of course is not us, but I think it sounded nice either way.”

"Now we just need to get signed," John says, plucking a piece of grass and tickling Freddie's cheek.

"That would be ideal," Roger admits, "but I wouldn't give up hope on the first album just yet. I did some follow-ups today."

Freddie bats John’s hand away. "Who knew you could be so productive, dear."

"Ha," Roger says, "somehow it's easier when it's something you care about."

John makes an affirmative noise. It’s hard to argue with that.

“Are you guys gonna be home soon?”

"We're just at the park,” Freddie says, looking at John with so much warmth it wraps around him like a blanket. “I think we'll be heading home in an hour or so.”

"Okay, might just miss you then," Roger says, "I'll be leaving for work in an hour."

"Well if we don't see you, have a great day at work, dear. Don't stay up too late!"

"Can't make any promises," Roger says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead, and Freddie rolls over to put his head on John's chest. John threads his fingers through Freddie's hair, soft and warm from the sun.

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Love you.”

Freddie lifts his head to look at him, eyes huge and dark. “Really?”

The question makes him smile. “Of course.”

Freddie mirrors his smile. He lies back on John’s chest again. “Good.”

The clouds that pass overhead are white, fluffy things. The sky is so startling blue John can almost believe summer is on its way.

“I do too, you know,” Freddie says then. “If you were wondering.”

John laces their fingers together and squeezes. “I know.”

♛ ♛ ♛

That night, John sleeps in Freddie’s bed. It’s no longer an unusual occurrence, but still he spends most nights in his own room. He knows Roger doesn’t like sleeping alone, and truth be told, John starts missing him after only a night apart.

“What are you thinking about?”

Freddie's smile is soft and inviting in the glow from the fairy lights, and John presses his lips to it, relishes the warm familiarity. He sneaks his freezing fingers under the hem of Freddie's jumper, the one that's red and warm and so soft it’s never worn outside the bedroom, and the skin underneath it is warm and soft as well.

He thinks about overhearing Roger on the phone the other day, and before the thought can reach its end, he asks, "what does a blowjob feel like?"

"Depends on the situation," Freddie says, not visibly surprised by the blunt question. He props his head up on his hand. "Sometimes it feels tender and sometimes it feels powerful. Do you mean the sensations?"

"I think so," John says, gently scratching his nails over Freddie’s stomach. "It's hard to imagine."

"I can give it a go, see if you like it," Freddie says.

John rolls his eyes and huffs out a short laugh, but when he looks at Freddie again, he’s gazing at him calmly.

"If you want to, of course. Only if you feel comfortable."

John looks at him, almost expects him to crack a smile and tell him he’s joking.

He doesn’t, and John is curious, thinks that maybe he would like to know what it feels like, even if the very concept seems absurd. He knows Freddie would not ask for anything in return, and he supposes that if he closes his eyes ...

"I think I would like to try," he says, so carefully it comes out as a whisper. Freddie's eyes light up with intrigue.

"Now?"

John nods, about to hide his face in the crook of his elbow when Freddie dips in to kiss him again. It feels familiar and safe, but there's a new thrill there, and John doesn’t know if he feels terrified or delighted. For long moments they kiss and kiss, until the hand that had previously rested on John's hip moves lower, and John’s breath hitches slightly as the hand brushes over his backside. He moves back a little so Freddie’s hand can lift off and slide up his thigh.

John thinks he could get used to this, this slow slide of arousal, warm and comforting like when he’s on his own, but then there are fingers brushing over his crotch, and John heart speeds uncomfortably. It's not that it doesn't feel nice, because it does, but he's not so lost in a haze of lust that he feels completely at ease. He thinks it's pretty normal, this, to be nervous before one's first time, but when Freddie breaks their kiss and slides down his body, he suddenly feels too exposed and alone all the way up here. Freddie dips his fingers into the waistband of John’s shorts, and when he glances up at him to check, John's body makes a quick decision and shakes his head before he can do anything about it.

Freddie removes his hand immediately, puts in on his thigh instead, a reassuring weight. "Too much?"

John nods, and he's relieved when Freddie lies down next to him and wraps his arm around him.

"Your heart is beating so fast,” Freddie says, palm flat on John’s chest. “Were you scared?"

"No," John says, "I don't think so." He pauses. “Just, I think I like the idea of it, but in reality, not so much."

"That makes perfect sense," Freddie says, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You know I don't want it if you don't."

"I know," John says, but is oddly touched anyway. Freddie breathes steadily next to him.

"I haven't watered Brian's cactus in a while," Freddie informs him some minutes later. "I mean, I usually tend to it when he's at home, but it's like I only remember because he's there to forget about it."

John cranes his neck to look at the plant in question. "Doesn't look half dead yet."

"No thanks to Brian," Freddie says drily, "I swear that boy will be the death of us all."

"Not Roger anymore?"

"I'm getting used to him," Freddie says, holding John tighter, "I don't think I'll ever get used to Brian's forgetfulness."

"Maybe they cancel each other out. Minus times a minus equal plus and all that."

Freddie lets out a snort of laughter. "Maybe."

"Roger seems better."

"I think he is. It was a good decision he made."

"He's in the studio a lot," John says, thinking of last night when he lay awake listening to Roger next door hammering on the guitar. He didn't really mind.

"He is," Freddie agrees, "when Brian returns, we'll have loads to work with. And it's good to have an outlet."

"I wonder if things had been different if he'd dropped out long ago."

"Don't think he could," Freddie says, "the time wasn't right. But I'm happy he's happy."

“Me too,” John says. “Are you happy?”

He thinks he is, but then again, it doesn’t hurt to ask.

Freddie pecks him on the cheek. “As happy as I’ve ever been.”

♛ ♛ ♛

Freddie has forgotten to rip off the strip of paper that marks Brian's arrival in less than three weeks. It’s become part of his daily ritual, and he keeps careful track of it, counting and recounting at least once a week. Each day, Freddie announces how many days that are left, just in case John and Roger could have possibly missed the big red letters taking up all available space on June 20.

John wonders how they will celebrate Brian’s arrival, if they'll order takeaway and snuggle up on the couch, or treat Brian to that semi fancy vegan restaurant John knows he's too cheap to go to alone, even in a case of celebration.

Freddie looks up from his iPad just as John's eyes fall on him, and sends him a sweet smile. "What are you up to, darling?"

"Just thinking about Brian coming home in less than a month."

Freddie's smile widens. "I can't wait. We should take him somewhere."

"I think he'd like that."

“Be good for him to get out,” Freddie says, unaware perhaps to the fact that Brian has been ‘out’ for the past quarter of a year. He stretches and turns off his iPad. “I think I need a break."

John scoots to the side so there's space for the lapful of Freddie he receives not long after. His arms loop around his waist on their own accord, and Fredddie closes his eyes and rests his head against John's shoulder.

"Missed you," he says. John looks up from where he's tracing the vein of the inside of Freddie's elbow.

"You're the one who's been absorbed in your iPad all morning,."

"Was working on a project for class," Freddie says, "terribly boring, this one. No creative freedom at all."

John attempts to look interested. "What are you making?"

Freddie laughs. “No need to feign interest. It’s―”

John doesn’t get to find out what it is, because just then, the front door is thrown open, and Roger barges into the living room, looking flushed and happy.

"Shoes off," barks Freddie.

Roger looks down at his feet. He's left a wet trail all the way from the hall. He scoffs. "When I tell you this, you'll forget all about muddy shoes," he says, but swiftly pulls off the shoe on his left foot and almost loses his balance as he does.

"I highly doubt it, dear," Freddie says, "you're ruining the floor, and it's going to cost us a fortune when we move out."

Roger collects his shoes and chucks them into the hallway. The subsequent clonk of his shoes is followed by the swish of a jacket falling from its rack.

John decides then that he's not getting involved. "What's the big news, Rog?" he says and makes a face when it occurs to him he sounds like Brian.

Roger smiles bright and wide. "I really shouldn't tell you before Brian is here," he says, looking a little bit like he’s about to burst into terrified laughter.

"What is it?" Freddie insists. John looks on, amused, certain it will be a matter of minutes before Roger succumbs.

"You can wait until we talk to him, it's only a few hours," Roger says, opening the fridge and pulling out a cup of sour cream.

"None of you will be able to last that long," John says.

"Roger," Freddie says, his tailbone digging sharply into John’s thigh as he turns, "you have to tell me!"

Roger dips a spoon in the sour cream container and licks it in a way John can only describe as inappropriately erotic. "Don't think so."

"Does it have anything to do with the band?" Freddie asks, "or Brian? Did you get a promotion? Get fired? Is somebody dying?"

"Somewhere somebody probably is dying," Roger says, "but not anyone I know."

"A bit early to get a promotion, isn't it?" John asks, pushing Freddie into a more comfortable position. “He could get fired though."

“Will you shut up,” Roger chides. “Anyway, I really can’t tell you, but Brian might be available tonight. Let me just text him.”

With that, he disappears into his bedroom with alarming speed. Freddie and John look at each other.

“Robbed a candy store?” Freddie questions.

“Seems like a probable answer.”

They don't see Roger for another hour, only when he rushes into the bathroom, naked as the day he was born, towel flapping behind him. Freddie shakes his head and goes back to his drawing. John reaches for the screwdriver and takes Brian’s old Nintendo apart.

Twenty minutes later, Roger assembles them in the kitchen, Macbook open and with Brian's picture already on the screen.

Freddie brightens. "Hi, Bri!"

"Hello," comes Brian's voice, unusually clear and crisp. "What's the rush?"

"He won't tell us," John says, collecting the unassembled Nintendo before Roger can sweep the parts off the kitchen table.

"You're so impatient, the lot of you," Roger says, but he's practically vibrating with excitement. He catches John’s eye and grins. "So," he says, drawing it out with obvious pleasure, "I got a call today."

"Lucky you," John says drily, but his heart is beating faster. Suddenly, he wants to throw up.

"Lucky me indeed," Roger says smugly, "because then I had a meeting."

He pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his email app. Freddie lets out a strangled sound.

"And then I got us signed."

#girlies............................................... it has been done. finally #maylor #keep yourself alive

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ashes-and-ashes · 5 years ago

Note

"fuck you" , "fuck me yourself, you coward" with wolfstar please?

Slytherin!Sirius au.

He finds Sirius in the hallway, all jet black hair and haughty eyes and that emerald tie slung casually around his neck like some goddamn medal of honour. The curtains were thrown back from the windows, the silvery light from the almost-full moon illuminating everything in narrow slats, streaks of stardust on the blocks of stone.

Remus curses - his ribs still ache from the Changing, pain stabbing through him every time he took a breath. He’s pretty sure the bandages on his back had slipped down as well, the cuts on his skin stinging with every step he took.

“Fuck,” he breathes, softly. The only other way to Gryffindor Tower was using the main staircase - a solid 10 flights of stairs in a dizzying spiral. He imagines it in his head - dragging himself up nearly a hundred flights of stairs, the throbbing in his ribs intensifying with every step, his shoulders aching and back screaming -

Remus grits his teeth, tries not to think about it. With a grimace he turns around, preparing himself for the long hike back up and praying Sirius didn’t see him.

Then again, when were his prayers ever answered? He barely made it five steps before he heard the rustle of fabric and Remus knew Sirius saw him.

Sirius Black, the Slytherin Heir to the Black fortune. He was about as big of a prick as his title would suggest - all cocky arrogance and careless swagger, the type of person who let secrets drop like rain. He remembers first year, eleven years old, walking into the Great Hall and hearing Sirius’ cold voice, the sniggers of his fellow classmates. He’s obviously Muggle born. No pureblood wizard would look that deformed.

Six years. Six years of taunting, of getting shoved into walls and laughed at. Mudblood.

He’s heard stories, of course, all the ones about how he’d mastered the curriculum at eleven and was the youngest and best member on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the long list of conquests he’s had over the six years at Hogwarts.

He’s heard the other stories, too; the ones about the scars on his back and the nights he spent missing from Slytherin dorms.

Remus grits his teeth, hoping Sirius wouldn’t say anything. He stares at the end of the hallway with a sigh - it seemed to stretch out forever, an impossible trek considering the boy in front of him.

He’s not even looking at Sirius but he can still hear the smirk on his voice, that insufferable smirk that made him want to punch him in that perfect face -

“What are you doing so late?”

Remus stiffens, tries to keep the exhaustion off his face. “I could ask you the same question.” He winces - his voice is hoarse from a night of screaming, the metallic tang of blood coating his tongue. Gingerly, he probes at the mess of chewed flesh on his cheek; he must have bitten through when he was Shifting.

Sirius laughs. Even that sounded practiced, Remus thinks - too easy, too smooth.

“I asked first,” Sirius says casually. He’s sitting on the floor against the wall, one leg stretched out in front of him. The moonlight sharpened his features - all high cheekbones and dark hair and the edge of his jaw, the pale skin of his neck disappearing into his robes. Remus’s eyes follow the smooth skin, catching on the edge of a silvery scar curling behind his ear.

Sirius’ smile sharpens. “Seeing something you like, Lupin?”

Remus shoots him a flat look - the same one he gave anyone who asked about his scars. “Are you asking out of genuine interest?”

Sirius doesn’t respond. He stretches out on the floor, arms braced on the wall behind him. Remus sways slightly on his feet; one of the bandages has definitely come loose, the torn edges of his broken skin screaming in protest.

“I should go,” he says. “I need to get to the tower.”

Sirius’ eyebrows fly up, his silver eyes glinting in the moonlight. “You still haven’t told me why you’re up this late.”

Remus doesn’t bother to mask his expression into anything but the annoyance he felt, turning an irratated glare on Sirius’ smirking face. “Well, you haven’t told me shit either. Call it a night and let me sleep, okay?”

“Ah,” Sirius says. He grins, the shadows and the light combining to give an eerie look of a Cheshire Cat. “See, I’m self-destructive - everyone knows that. So it really shouldn’t matter why I’m out so late. You on the other hand - I guess it’s more interesting why Saint Lupin is breaking curfew than why poor old me is.”

“I’m not a saint,” Remus says. Sirius’ grin widens.

“You’re certainly not a devil.”

“Like you?” Remus says, mockingly.

“Now you get it.”

“Please.” Remus rolls his eyes. He’d never been able to have a conversation with Sirius for longer than 5 minutes without getting some sort of blinding headache. “Spare your melodramatic bullshit.”

“Melodramatic - “ Sirius cuts himself off, the humor disappearing from his face so fast Remus glances over his shoulder. “What - “

“You’re hurt,” Sirius says. It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not - “ Remus starts but Siruus ignores him. He pushes himself up off the ground - his hand is on Remus’ shoulder, thumb digging into the tear there and Remus just barely manages to swallow down his scream.

“Fuck,” he hisses - Sirius face is curiously blank. “What the fuck was that for - “

Sirius’ hand is at his robes in an instant and Remus wasn’t fast enough to stop him from yanking the soft fabric off his shoulders, the cool night air washing over his skin. He’s wearing his shirt underneath (Thank God, he thinks) but he can tell from the dampness on his spine that a lot of blood must have leaked through.

Sirius’ hand brushes over the deepest of the gashes on his front and this time Remus can’t stop the choked noise he makes. Sirius’ face is still empty; Remus stares at the purpling bruises on his arms and tries to get his pounding heart under control.

He bends to retrieve his fallen cloak and regrets it - the movement makes the wounds on his back tear even more and he muffles his groan with his hand. Sirius is there in a heartbeat, his knuckles white where he gripped the fabric, hard enough that Remus thought it might tear, one hand still pressed against the cut on Remus’ stomach.

“Who did this?” Sirius asks, his tone deadly calm. Remus notices the slight tremble in his hands and forces himself to step backwards away from Sirius’ warm touch.

“None of your business,” he replies shortly.

Sirius lets out a startled laugh, cracking at the edges. “None of my - “ he begins, then cuts himself off. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not, actually.”

Sirius traces the lines of blood spreading across Remus’ back, his eyes hollow and so far away. “Tell me,” he says, his voice soft.

Remus swallows. Irrational anger surges through him, at Sirius, acting like a goddamn saint as if he wasn’t a fucking asshole -

“What do you care?” he says, voice cutting.

Sirius blinks, and Remus can practically see the walls snapping down in his eyes. “Do I need to have a reason?”

Remus grits his teeth. “Who hurt you, Sirius?”

Sirius flinches back as if Remus had physically struck him, a mixture of shock and terror and anger warring over his face. The emotion is gone in an instant; Sirius’ face goes dead, as if he had shoved his feelings deep inside of him, something slicing and cutting up his insides.

“How did you know?” he asks.

Remus forces a bitter laugh. “I’ve seen scars. Yours are intentional. Someone’s out too much effort into making them hurt.”

“No one - “

Remus scoffs. “Straight lines and smooth edges? Perfectly round burn scars?”

“When have you seen - “

“We’ve both been here six years, Sirius. Guess we’re both deformed after all.”

Sirius blinks. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, coward,” Remus spits.

Sirius just smirks. “Maybe I will.”

“I’m sure your mother will be proud of you.”

Sirius flinches back, and somewhere Remus winces at how easy it was to hurt him. He can’t bring himself to care - he’s tired and in pain and full of burning, irrational rage.

“Let me go,” he says, snatching his ribs from Sirius’ shaking hands, turning and limping down the corridor.

It’s only when he’s in bed later that night does he realize that he’s never met another person as scarred as he was.

#wolfstar #wolfstar angst #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #marauders era #slytherin!sirius #marauders era fanfic #the marauders #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #Sirius black angst #remus lupin angst

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scummy-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Appraisal

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3771

Pairing: Arthur/Mc/Theo

Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, Biting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Double Penetration, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex, Blood Drinking, Voyeurism, Friends With Benefits, Multiple Orgasms, Slight Arthur/Theo

Org Ao3 Upload: 05042020

- Commission for @cinnatwisted !

Full fic under cut!

Preview:

“No need for jealousy, Theo. You’re always welcomed to join.” Tearing his eyes away from you, he mumbled into his drink. “A hondje like you couldn’t handle us both at once.” Oh? Despite his gruff attitude, you caught a dusting of blush on his cheeks. Whether from the drink or from watching, you decided to push your luck regardless. “I think I rather could.” Briskly running your hand up his thigh, you leaned closer, encouraged as you felt his forming erection, “I’d like to see how your bite is for once, since you only ever bark.”

———

At this time of night, the tavern wasn’t bustling with drunken patrons. Instead, a few stragglers were scattered throughout, sitting at their own tables and focusing solely on whatever was left in their drink. Normally when with Arthur and Theo for a night in town, the three of you came when it was crowded, especially since Arthur would take the opportunity to find a more personal nightcap. However, ever since you had agreed to allow your friendship with Arthur a few more benefits, coming this late had become a habit.

Especially when Theo seemed gloomy. He disliked drinking alone, nearly as much as he hated when the pub was busy enough with women trying to barter for his attention. Now that Arthur’s focus towards other women had subsided, it was easier to hangout when Theo preferred. “Are you already wanting to go, hondje? We just started drinking.”

At Theo’s voice you turned your attention back to the bar counter, waving off his lazy tease while taking a sip from your glass.

“I’d say I’m good for a few more drinks,” you shot back. “Think you can keep up with me?”

“You’ve yet to outdrink me, mutt.” Theo scoffed, downing the rest of his brandy. The glass made a dull thud as he set it down to be refilled, Arthur letting out a hum.

“Why Theo, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in a bad mood! What’s gotten you all stingy?”

Theo merely rolled his eyes, prompting you to join in on the teasing. “Maybe another round will do us all some good?”

“Mm, yeah. Why don’t you be a dear and pay for our drinks?” With a smug grin, Theo watched Arthur dramatically sigh and dig out his wallet.

“Ah, I’m being taken advantage of, I swear. Who knew my friends would be so keen on sucking me dry!”

His stupid joke brought out laughter from all three of you as he flagged the bartender for another round. It wasn’t long before you had drained your glass, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through you.

“Maybe I should have you buy me a few drinks from the top shelf, hm? I think I deserve it,” you playfully mused, grinning when Arthur feigned pouting

“Awh, don’t drink too much,” you felt your knees bump together, Arthur leaning close, “I still want to do what we’ve been prepping for tonight, luv.”

His breath warmed the shell of your ear, a pleasant twinge of electricity running through you as his fingers ghosted under your skirt. You saw Arthur glance towards the bartender as his hand traveled up your thigh, squeezing as an appreciative sigh slipped out.

“Mmm, Arthur…”

Fortunately, the bartender was preoccupied with cleaning. Knowing the rest of the patrons couldn’t care less, Arthur slid a gloved finger along your slit, the fabric of your panties already slickened with arousal.

“Oooh, naughty girl,” Arthur playfully tsked, voice thick, “You’re so excited for me… What have you been thinking about while drinking, hm?”

Wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady in your seat, Arthur took your lips in his, brushing your panties aside to rub your clit. He deepened the kiss, stealing the gasp that threatened to spill out- Only briefly, as Theo discreetly coughed. Breaking off with a small hum, Arthur withdrew from under your skirt before the bartender could notice.

Once your drinks were topped, Theo flicked his gaze over the both of you.

“I didn’t invite you two just to watch you fuck around with each other.”

Laughing, you bumped his shoulder. “No need for jealousy, Theo. You’re always welcomed to join.”

Tearing his eyes away from you, he mumbled into his drink. “A hondje like you couldn’t handle us both at once.”

Oh? Despite his gruff attitude, you caught a dusting of blush on his cheeks. Whether from the drink or from watching, you decided to push your luck regardless.

“I think I rather could.” Briskly running your hand up his thigh, you leaned closer, encouraged as you felt his forming erection, “I’d like to see how your bite is for once, since you only ever bark.”

Theo made no movement to brush you away, instead meeting your challenging stare. You saw his gaze drop to your lips momentarily, right before Arthur spoke up.

“You know I don’t mind sharing with you, old chap.” You could hear his grin as he continued, voice lowering. “It’s been a while, hm? Might do you some good.”

Now Theo bristled, shaking his head and returning to his drink.

“Filthy perverts. You were made for each other.”

“Maybe, but notice that you’re not pushing me away…” Giving him a firm squeeze, you saw Theo straighten, a noise catching in his throat.

“She’s great at getting what she wants, Theo.” Arthur propped his elbow on the counter, tipping his head. “I’m game for another round with you, rather enjoyed it last time. Besides, how else are you going to take care of your problem? The boring way?”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to press him, leaning against you and continuing, his voice quiet for only the three of you to hear. “Or would you rather feel how tightly her wet cunt clamps down when-”

“Fuck. Fine!” Theo pushed himself away from the bar with burning cheeks, starting towards the door. “Let’s go.”

With a giddy laugh you took Arthur’s offered hand, stumbling slightly before joining him, rushing after your flustered mutual friend.

Thankfully, the carriage service hadn’t stopped for the night. By the time the two of you had caught up, Theo was already stepping into one he had flagged down. Despite his gruff attitude, he took your hand to help you in, Arthur following behind. The two of you took the seats across Theo, still carelessly chuckling.

Emboldened by the lingering buzz of alcohol, you threw a leg over Arthur’s lap as soon as the door had closed. Cupping his jaw, you crashed your lips together, deliberately drawing out the kisses he was trying to rush through. When the carriage lurched into a start, Arthur hurriedly grabbed your hips to keep you from falling back, prompting both of you to giggle.

“I think that worked in our favor,” Arthur tugged your hips down to meet his, grinding and drawing a groan out. “It’s just us three now, why don’t you let Theo hear those sweet mewls of yours?”

Looking over your shoulder you saw Theo watching intently. His chin was propped in his hand, elbow resting on the carriage windowsill. While his fingers curled lazily and concealed his mouth, the hand creeping towards his crotch fueled your aroused impulses.

“Mm, pay attention to me, luv.” Arthur stole your attention with another roll of his hips, his clothed erection rubbing perfectly against your wet heat. “You’re not the only one wound up here.”

“Maybe you should give me a reason to.” Taking his hands in yours, you guided them further down. Arthur caught on quickly, slipping his hands up your skirt and giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“God, you’re like two dogs in heat.” You didn’t get a chance to comment on the strain Theo’s voice carried, Arthur speaking up before you could.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, she’s positively a wildcat in bed if you get her in the right mood.” Trailing his lips along the pulse of your neck, Arthur continued. “Or against the wall… In the carriages… Behind the pub- Ah!”

You swatted his shoulder with a laugh. “You’re one to talk! I swear you get hard if I just walk past.”

“Can’t help it, thinking about all the naughty nights we’ve shared.” Arthur worked your skirt up, giving Theo the chance to properly watch what was happening. “Truly, you’ve spoiled me.”

Flicking his eyes over to his friend, Arthur gave your ass another squeeze before steadily rolling his hips, helping guide you into a rhythm. Taking your lips, Arthur resumed the hasty make out from earlier, smiling when a moan escaped you.

With no banter, the only sounds in the carriage were you and Arthur’s mixed noises of pants and groans along with the rustling of the fabric between the two of you. You tried to strain your ears to hear any signs of this working Theo up, but your focus kept shifting to the jolts of pleasure you received when Arthur’s bulge wonderfully grinded against your clit.

Breaking the kiss, Arthur groaned hoarsely against your shoulder.“If you keep this up, you’re gonna leave a wet spot, luv.”

“Oh? Are you that excited, Arthur?” You teased, gasping as Arthur nipped your neck.

“I’m not that quick, bird.” He patted your rear, “Let’s give Theo a bit of a show before we reach home.”

Following his nudge, you settled back into your seat and moved to smooth out your skirt. Instead, Arthur stopped you before you could, reaching under your skirt again and tugging on the waistband of your panties. Lifting your hips, you allowed Arthur to slowly pull them off, raising your knees when needed. Once off, Arthur pitched them to Theo.

“A little souvenir for tonight.”

Arthur joked, but you saw Theo glance at the obvious arousal slicking the garment before tucking them into his jacket, giving you a smirk when you bit your lip.

Arthur pulled your leg and hooked it over his knee, spreading you out and hiking your skirt up. You assumed he’d spill another tease, but instead he reached over and brushed a gloved thumb over your clit. All of the grinding from before providing ample lubrication for Arthur to be rough. You panted as he hastily rubbed the sensitive numb, flicking your gaze over to Theo. Lazily, he was toying with the zipper of his pants, running his thumb over the seam as he watched. Not much stimulation, but as the carriage started to slow, you understood why.

Arthur, however, still continued his ministrations. Taking the shell of your ear between his teeth, he kept rubbing until your body started to tense. Overly familiar with the signs of your oncoming orgasm, Arthur knowingly cut short before it could pleasantly wash over you.

“Looks like we made it home faster than I thought.”

Liar.

He caught the glare you shot him with a laugh, smoothing your skirt down before taking your hand as Theo opened the carriage door.

“Can’t have the party over before it’s even begun, can we?” Damn him for that smirk he gave as he helped you out the carriage. Once steady, he wrapped a firm arm around your waist, keeping you close as you all walked through the mansion’s front doors. He tipped his head, murmuring, “It’ll be worth the wait, I promise.”

This late, and everyone was either busy in their rooms or already asleep. It made it easier for Arthur to attempt stealing more gasps from you while following Theo down the hall, his hand on your hip darting to grope your rear. Giving him a swift smack to his arm you laughed, the rebuke forming on your lips disappearing once you realized the three of you were already in front of Arthur’s bedroom. As Theo swung open the door and began to doff his jacket, you hummed.

“Oh? Theo, don’t you need to go get the collar and leash you keep threatening me with?”

“Maybe if you’re a good pup we’ll play with them next time.”

“‘Next time’? Very presumptuous of you, Theo.” As the three of you settled in, you closed the distance between the two of you, running your hand down his torso. “Seeing how you’re still all bark and no bite.”

A shudder ran through him as you cupped his clothed erection, Theo swiftly pulling you flush against him as he tipped your chin.

“There’s a reason Arthur’s letting me play with you, hondje.”

Crashing your lips together Theo began to tug your clothing off, breaking momentarily to work your shirts off. As he guided you towards the bed, Arthur took his time with his own clothes, seemingly used to Theo’s rushing.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were stretched along Arthur’s bed, Theo’s kisses trailing down your neck and quickly turning into lovebites. His calloused hands roamed over your bare body as you reacted to each nip, heart thumping faster as he slotted himself between your legs and let the tip of his cock tease along your slit.

“How do you want to do this?” Arthur undid his belt as he asked, quickly stepping out of his pants and working off his boxers. Noticing how he kept his gloves on made your attention waiver momentarily, until Theo’s voice brought it back.

“Mm, I want to know how our little hondje tastes.” He muttered, maneuvering lower, his teeth grazing along your stomach.

Taste? At first you grew confused, used to Arthur using the pleasure his fangs provided to enhance an orgasm, until Arthur tsked and sat beside your head on the edge of the bed. “I swear, I never get a chance to beat you to it.”

It wasn’t until Theo moved to rest on his forearms, head now between your legs, that you understood what they were talking about. Theo’s tongue dipped between your folds, slowly licking upwards as you groaned. Your fingers quickly threaded themselves through his hair as he chuckled, easily working two fingers inside of you. “Are you sure you’re not in heat, hondje?”

Trailing a gloved finger along your jawline, Arthur guided your mouth to his cock before you could let out a quip of your own. “Can I join in on the fun?”

With all the dry humping from the carriage, you expected Arthur to be far less patient as you ran your tongue underneath his erection. Instead, once you finally took the tip inside your mouth he gently eased more of himself into you, starting a pace that was easy to handle.

Theo, however, wasn’t as gentle. Roughly pumping three fingers inside of you, he alternated between teasing licks to your sensitive bud, to lightly taking it between his lips and sucking. The sensations combined with the plug still inside your rear made your toes curl, excitement budding for what was to come.

Just as Arthur tangled his fingers through your hair, your legs clamped against Theo’s shoulders, all of the earlier teasing catching up to you in one swift pleasurable wave. Arthur enjoyed some of the moans that rolled through you before pulling out of your mouth with a deep sigh.

As Theo moved to his knees, licking your arousal from his digits, he smirked. “Quick of you, knabbeltje. Were you that excited?”

“Ah, cut her some slack, Theo.” Carefully, Arthur eased the two of you to rest on your knees. “We’ve talked about you joining us for a while, you should have seen how excited she was when I first brought it up. Though, I wish you’d let me have a go this time."

“Mm, you want to taste how she was?” Theo grinned as he tugged Arthur closer to him by his hips, muttering briefly before drawing him into a kiss. “Here."

Arthur’s hand reached for Theo’s side as their lips met, a quiet groan falling from his mouth as Theo nipped between kisses. It wasn’t long until their kisses deepend, his tongue mingling with Arthur’s before the other broke away. Watching as they slowly pulled apart, Arthur’s tongue traced along his bottom lip, his gaze lingering on Theo’s.

“I’ve always loved that taste…”

You took the chance to run your hands up Theo’s inner thighs, bringing the attention back to yourself. “I’m still here, you know.”

“Impossible to forget, bird,” Arthur chuckled, moving to open his nightstand drawer. “Theo, think you’re up for, ah, taking her from the front while I’m behind her? Could probably move to the chair to make it easier.” Taking the jar of lube out, he set it aside before wrapping an arm around your middle, his hand tracing the curve of your ass.

Theo glanced at you, devoid of his usual teasing tone. “Can you handle that?”

“Mhm, she’s been excited all day for it, haven’t you?” Arthur’s fingers dipped lower, carefully grasping the flared base of the buttplug you had been wearing for the past few hours. Nodding, you reached for Theo’s forearm to grasp as Arthur gingerly pulled the toy out of you, a quiet groan slipping out. “We had already planned for this position, so adding you into the mix won’t be too hard.”

Theo let you use him to steady yourself as the three of you moved off the bed. Pulling one glove off with his teeth, Arthur took the jar he had set aside with him before sitting down in his chair, promptly working on slicking his cock with lube. Feeling impatient, you straddled him in his chair, grasping his chin and pulling him into a languid kiss. Arthur’s chuckle broke your lips apart.

“We’re almost there, luv, but I need you to turn around.”

Doing as he asked while he discarded his other glove, you worked along with him to ease yourself into position. Arthur let you brace your back against his chest for support as he swiftly lifted you up by your thighs, the tip of his cock brushing along your ass as he displayed you to Theo.

Mouth at your ear, his voice dipped into a low murmur. “Ready?”

At your nod, Arthur gripped the underside of your thighs tightly as he pushed his tip into you, starting to lower you once he was halfway in. Excitement buzzed through you as Theo watched you squirm at the pleasurable way Arthur’s cock filled you, shallowly stroking himself as he waited. It was easy to make out the bead of precum at the tip, the sight of how far along his arousal was pushing him stoking the heat flaring in your abdomen.

“Gods, you’re so tight,” Arthur hissed, groaning against your neck. “Does it hurt?”

“N-no, it feels good.” Too good. You reached for the man in front of you, his smirk fueling your need. “Th-Theo, you too.”

“Have half a mind to make you beg for it,” Theo slid his hands under your thighs, helping Arthur’s hold you as he positioned his erection against you. “But every mutt deserves a treat…”

Slowly, Theo eased his cock into your cunt, a grunt slipping out as his nails dug into your skin. You wanted to tease him for the lack of noise, but all that came out was a silent gasp as you felt yourself being filled completely. You grasped Theo’s forearm, mouth clamping shut as you adjusted to the rush of stimulation.

“Hey, tell us if it’s too much, alright?” At Arthur’s worried prompting you shook your head, finding your voice.

“It-it’s good, I’m good- God, you’re both so-” Biting your lip, you stressed a moan as Theo brushed his thumb over your clit, rubbing. “Theo!”

Arthur groaned as Theo drew another rough whine, hips thrusting impatiently from the sensation. “Oh gods- Theo, keep doing that.”

Gods, your thoughts were incoherent as they worked with each other to maintain a slow pace, easing you into handling both of them at once. With Arthur’s chin resting on your shoulder, you could hear each noise he let out as he fought against impulsively pounding into you, his strained panting adding another wave of pleasure coursing through you. His silver tongue faltering made it incredibly apparent that he was enjoying this just as much as you.

You threw your head back as Theo stroked your sensitive bud faster, body tensing. As much as you tried to fight against it, you felt another orgasm quickly roll through you, your moan hitching into a whimper as your clenching walls made the way their cocks moved inside you intensify. Theo stopped rubbing just as your clit began feeling overworked, his panting much more noticeable as they both stilled for you.

“I-I still want m-more.” Nearly breathless as you spoke, you kept your hold on Theo to keep him from pulling away.

“Are you sure?”

�� “Please.”

You felt Arthur nod against your shoulder when Theo glanced at him, muttering in your ear. “Alright, luv, we’re going to be a bit rough, so speak up if you need us to stop.”

Once you agreed, their grip on you tightened as they tested a thrust. When you only gasped out a moan, Theo rolled his hips out of sync with Arthur, the two of them quickly going at their own pace. The best you could manage were incoherent mewls of their names as they pounded into you, seeking their own release.

“A-Almost there, luv- Just, mmh, a little l-longer.” You felt Arthur’s fangs graze across your shoulder before he bit down. Whimpering, you bit your lip as a new wave of pleasure seared through you. Arthur only took enough blood to satiate him before pulling away, groaning as he spilled inside of you.

It wasn’t long before Theo followed suit, curses tumbling out of him before a final thrust pushed him over the edge.

Cleaning up was a blur. Once you had caught your breath, the two of them pulled out, Arthur wasting no time in taking care of the mess they had made of you. It wasn’t long before you were urged into his bed, Arthur letting you borrow his robe.

Now you rested your head on his lap, enjoying the lazy way Arthur ran his fingers through your hair. “Are you sure you’re okay with me sleeping here tonight?”

“Absolutely. I don’t think you’d be able to make it to your room, anyway.” Arthur’s attention turned to Theo, who was already folding his coat over his arm. “Leaving already?”

“I can’t-” Theo sighed, shaking his head. “The scent of her blood is too much.”

“If that’s the only reason, then you could bi-”

“No.” Arthur's voice was uncharacteristically tense, faltering as he quickly explained. “We put you through a lot. It’d be too much for you.”

Theo eyed his friend before starting towards the door. “Mhm. Maybe next time, hondje.”

He didn’t let you get another word in before he left, Arthur sighing as he leaned back against the headboard. “It’s been a while since we’ve…”

Trailing off, he brushed your bangs back gently. From that alone, your eyes began to flutter shut, your exhaustion catching up.

“Mm, don’t fight sleeping, luv. I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

All you could manage was a soft hum as he pulled the covers over you, drifting off feeling thoroughly spent.

———

This was really fun to write... TvT

Masterlist | Ikevamp Server | Writing Server

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire arthur #smut

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starrysupercell · 3 years ago

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Sooo... Now that its my wif- Tara's birthday... Are the Mystics (And Bo) gonna celebrate it :D? I can imagine Gene trying to set up some kind of surprise party for her, that would remain a surprise for like 4 minutes...

DANG IT. Past 12. TwT

But here you go! An outline for how Tara’s birthday is celebrated this year. 🧿 best fortune teller in Starr Park tbh. Your wife says hi 💜

I really gotta start keeping track of the Birthdays to have these things planned out.

One of the many good things about how much time Tara and Gene have known each other, is he knows she'll figure it out.

The surprise for her will be not the fact that there's a party because she can easily see that, but the extent of it, because she can promise not to sneak a peek at it.

(But now she's curious! Also, she's so used to checking on the future,* it takes a very conscious effort to not do so.)

So, while Gene keeps Tara preoccupied by taking a walk around the Park, Sandy, the Tribe, Gale and Mortis (because they're also friends with the Mysticals bc of the skins, shush.) are in charge of decorating.

So, with only two responsible adults in this group, how well do you think this is going to go? :)

Gale: So do you have a plan for the setup?

Sandy: hm? >.o oh. Yy*yawns*eah. here you go... *hands him a paper*

Gale: ...this just has a rough sketch of the main room and a couple of balloons.

Sandy- mm..felt sleepy but there's still.... -.-...time to...zzzz....

Gale:

Mortis laughs because well they'd just have to wing it! (He would definitely ask Emz for help, but she's busy with the teen crew for plot convenience) As long as decorations are already bought, it should an easy thing in setting it up the way they want it to look.

....decorations are already bought, right?

Sandy softly snores, and the Party Crew realizes that's their answer.

Meanwhile, Gene and Tara walk through the Park. The plan is picking up a few extra gifts along the way before heading back to the main party.

Their first stop is Barley's for some drinks! He gifts one bottle of Tara’s preferred drink, but does charge for the rest. Along the way, we see Brawlers greeting Tara and wishing her well on her birthday.

Colette’s very enthusiastic! She knows all the Brawler’s birthdays, and wanted to make something for Tara!

She doesn’t really have extra money recently, since there was some recent change in management, and she usually makes more detailed items, but because of the money problem, couldn’t buy as many materials she needed, but she’s derailing, so she hands Tara her wrapped gift.

It’s a cute hand-made Shade Plush!

Tara is delighted and thanks her for it. It’s a pleasant surprise, and she appreciates it. Colette fangirls a bit, thanking her, and then waving bye as the Mystics carry on.

Back at the Bazaar, they're trying to brainstorm on what to do. Well, half of them present are. Sandy is asleep and Nita + Leon are playing around the house.

Mortis says the only things he has back home are.. well, decorations of a more... gothic type..you know,.. (Halloween decors. they’re Halloween decors.)

Gale also offers up... some Snowtel hangings, but again, ‘tis not quite the right season to be jolly.

Bo suggests makeshift decorations. The twins are good at crafts! .. but more so along the lines of forest materials, not sand and...

Everyone’s drawing a blank, and decide that they could gather up their own share of materials, and see what could work best. Their time limit won’t really allow a break after all.

So Gale contacts Lou and asks him if he could meet him halfway with everything he can carry. Try not to get caught by the Penguin boss. Lou, ever the chaotic good guy agrees.

Bo gathers up Leon and Nita and they head out to see what they can scrounge up.

Mortis wonders if he should call up Frank too since he’ll be here later to set up and provide the music, but decides to be ~generous~ and just send a flock of his Bats to pick some things up for him. He sees them off adoringly.

With a content sigh, he lounges back and waits for his precious lovelies to return with his ideal decorations. Sandy sleeps on...

Back with Gene and Tara, the next item to pick up is the cake. Piper has the order ready-- a black forest chateau cake.

“Magnificent taste, darlings!” she compliments. she has it all boxed up very fancily. “It’s on the house. Take it as my gift for you. Happy birthday!”

She’ll also be attending the party later. Tara thanks her for the cake. She and Gene then take their leave.

Along the way to their last stop at the new Castle environment for the food, (because while they don’t know Ash very well yet, Tara loves trying out the new items and pizza is always great for a party.)

“Hey, Tara! ...hold up.” Edgar jumps down from a building they’re passing, just because he can and . “...this is from the rest of the Gang. Me too, I guess. Happy birthday.”

The party squad are actually worse off than before.

The Shaman Tribe are back, and the Twins became interested in using fabrics to try and make something too. so they’re playing around with it pretty much.

Gale just arrived, with Lou joined along because he was interested in the party planning too. (So, the snowtel is understaffed right now.) but they’re just chatting instead of working.

Mortis’ bats haven’t arrived yet, and he’s getting worried. They don’t usually take this long in running errands for him.

Leon and Nita are practically playing catch right now. They knock over something that looked priceless. Oh, a crystal ball, perhaps. Bo reprimands them.

They haven’t gotten much closer to making up the room...

There’s a knock, and the group freezes because oh no, they’re out of time. but it ends up being Frank. A very unhappy Frank who was suddenly surrounded by screeching batties who kept picking apart the house while he was packing up his set up for the party. They followed him there afterwards, along with several things.

Mortis tries joking it off ;; , and then very quietly and off-handedly apologizes when Frank doesn’t find it very funny.

But then so hey!!! you’re here so decoration time, everybody! let’s hop to it!

Gene’s Lamp, Sliver, floats in. Sent by Gene himself to check on the progress. They were nearing after all. The Lamp’s alarmed by what it sees. That is, absolutely nothing.

It glares around, and spots Sandy still sleeping. Sliver floats over to him, and hops on him-- Wake up!

Sandy does so, but is very grumpy. “what?”

Tara’s Birthday.

“yeah? what about it?”

Don’t you care?

“obviously.” he swats at the lamp. “it’s tomorrow.”

>:( Today. It’s TODAY.

“,” Sandy looks around, as wide-eyed as he could be.

broken crystal ball, a mix of decorations, and nobody currently fixing up anything from the looks of it.

They’re on the way.

Sandy makes a face. “ok... game plan on the fly.”

The final stretch of the day out.

Gene and Tara are nearing the Bazaar, and along the way, Gene starts to get heartfelt.

He reminisces how they first met, how far they’ve traveled together, how much longer they’ve yet to go.

He wishes he could think of something to give her that meant something like the other gifts that she received that day.

He was a Genie, but after everything they’ve been through, she deserves much, much more than what he could ever imagine to conjure up for her.

Tara smiles. “(Don’t... put me on too high a pedestal, my Friend.”)

Don’t sell yourself short either. You’ve done so much.

“(Yes. I have.)” Tara muses unhappily, thumbing the doll.

Gene suddenly gets the idea of what his gift could be, but he needs his Lamp to start on it.

Right before the two opened the door, a pair of bats were hanging up the last decoration.

And when the two walked in with the final party supplies at hand and are amazed at the display.

intricate ice sculptures and a more snowy feel set up where the food would go. the music section where Frank set up (who was talking with Mortis.) had a darker aesthetic, including the balloons over there.

Lastly the rest of the place was decorated with very cute works of art. no doubt the Tribe kid’s handiwork. she recognized it from when they stayed over, and the gifts Bo’s gotten from them and shown her.

You’d think that the seemed like the mix of fancier silver decorations, a more gothic theme and natural crafts would look odd together... and well, it was quaint, but it was very pleasing to see.

a patchwork of oddities, not unlike this park, really. She’s always been fond of odds and ends. Tara loved it!

Sandy yawns and walks over to them. “we actually just got done with the set up. but if it makes you feel better, we can still hide right now and yell surprise.”

Tara laughs. It’s okay.. it isn’t like she could be-- but she appreciates it. Sandy shrugs, like he didn’t just call all the shots and work in a hurry with the other eight. “you’re welcome.”

Lou offers to help set up the food and cake. Gale helps too, after presenting his gift too.

Frank and Mortis notice the arrival of the Birthday Gal and wave her over. They chat animatedly-- it’s been so long since they’ve had the chance to catch up! They should plan something soon. Tara agrees, and their gift is from the both of them. I can see it being a very nice piece of clothing, though I’m drawing a blank as to what.

The Lamp reunites with Gene, and their perspectives merge again. Oh. the party was really cut close, huh? but it worked out well! what a relief. a scrap book of actual memories is what you have in mind? how very sappy.... She would like it.

Lastly, Bo walks up to Tara, greeting her and wishing her well on this day. He hopes she likes what they helped with ....he then has the Twins apologize for breaking a few things around the house--

Tara dismisses it easily. They can be replaced. The Twins, that is. (joke to scare them.) But really, as long as they were careful from now on, it was okay. the cub and chameleon agree with no hesitation and then run off to cause more mayhem, but quieter this time.

The Psychic smiles. The guests would be arriving soon, and it was already so lively.

Time to party~!

_______

*I’m still deciding on the extent of her powers, so future sight might not be a thing, because of the characterization I have for her. I’m thinking something along the lines of “Can see past events, and make very informed guesses based on what she knows about people, but cannot see the future itself.”

#Brawl Stars #Birthday #Tara #My Outlines #Mystic Triad #Shaman Tribe #Mortis #Gale #Frank #my interpretation of Gene is um different from canon #if it's confusing #maybe i'll explain. uwu

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Battle for the Sun {Diana Prince x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @justarookiewriter Wordcount: 2768 Summary: Trips to the museum are always fantastic, but a certain curator makes it all the better. But what happens when you keep getting interrupted?

The display that the museum was putting on was absolutely spectacular. You turned up every single day that this exhibition was on, using your membership card to get through the long lines. Italian sculptures, men and women, all sorts of bodies from ones that would be shamed today to the ideal. You walked the long stone halls alone, your hands behind your back, taking in the art as it was rather than trying to take pictures of it. A photo on a phone was nothing compared to the majesty that you were seeing in front of you. You stopped in front of your favorite, a sculpture of a woman. She was kneeling on the ground, her face turned upwards, her dress revealing one breast. There was something delicate about it. The way that the artist made stone look like fabric. It was incredible. But you weren’t just here for the art - there was another reason that you came around, and that was for one of the curators. An astonishing woman named Diana Prince.

You were hoping to see her, but instead, the only person you saw was a security guard who tended to follow you around. Not because he thought that you were up to devious behavior, but because he enjoyed the sight of you. He told you so enough times, and each word out of his mouth made you gag. But the art and Diana were worth putting up with him, just for a little while.

“Oh, you’re here again!” The very wanted voice of the woman that you were hoping to see came through the room, which cuts the creepy security guard right out of the picture. As it well should have.

“You found me already,” You said, turning the tall woman with a smile. “Usually you only catch me when I’m about to leave. I’ve only been here about an hour.”

“I can leave you to it,” She said, her accent being one that you couldn’t quite place. There were a dozen or so places that you suspected she could have come from, but never felt that you could ask such a rude question. She was here now, in France, and that’s what really mattered.

“Oh, no, only if you have other things to do. I never mind your company, Diana,” You said with a smile. The way that she looked today was breathtaking. How she managed to make a simple pair of jeans and a blouse look glamorous, you didn’t understand. You didn’t even have hope that you could emulate such a look. You probably looked horrible next to her, in your comfy University sweater to fight off the chill of the upcoming autumn months. “Not for a little while, no,” She said, smiling back. She stood next to you and looked up at the sculpture that you had been stopped in front of. “Is this one your favorite?” She asked you. You nodded in response, then started to speak, realizing the little gesture was not nearly enough.

“I wish that I knew what she was looking at,” You admitted, looking up into the face of the beautiful piece of artwork. “And how the marble looks like fabric, how you can see through it, it’s...”

“Breathtaking?” Diana responded. You nodded. That was the word that you had been struggling to find. It sounded more sincere coming from her lips. “Yes, I feel the same way. I’m often drawn to it as well.”

You both fell into a silence at that moment, looking at the sculpture. You wished that you could touch it, making sure that it really was stone. You didn’t even realize that you were leaning into the partition rope guarding it from people doing exactly that.

“Hey - stop-” The creepy security guard said, squeezing his way between you and Diana. “You know the rules, you can’t get close to the artwork.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” You started to argue back, but Diana interfered.

“You’re excused,” She said, lightly pushing the guard back. Still, it seemed to take him by surprise that he was being handled like that, and he stumbled backwards. He glared at her, and opened his mouth to retort, but she continued on. “And I will be speaking to your supervisor about this.”

“I was just trying to-”

“I’ve already put in a complaint about you,” You said, wanting to back up Diana, just as she was doing for you. “And I have the feeling that I am not the only person who did. I wasn’t going to touch it, especially not with the curator here. Please, do not touch me again.”

It was hard to keep in your temper, but he had been rather rude with you in the past. He once slid behind you in a crowd, his hand touching your bottom a little too roughly for it to have been an accident. You had put in the report, but as you had expected, not too much had happened. “As I said, you are excused,” Diana said, her eyes sharp as she stared the man down. He faltered, and walked away from his post, mumbling under his breath.

“Thank you. I’ve been a bit nervous to come back because of him,” You frowned at his retreating back.

“I’ll make sure that he never bothers you again,” Diana said, soothingly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” You said, bringing the smile back onto your face. “And so ready to finally enjoy the museum without him breathing down my beck. What is your favorite sculpture here?”

You were getting a tour from the curator herself, walking in her footsteps, taking in all of the information that she was giving you which wasn’t in the placards. You found yourself wishing you had brought a notepad so you could write all of this information down. She gave a much better tour than any of the tourguides or online tours that the Louvre provided.

“And that is all,” Diana said, after explaining the last statue. You had done a large lap, ending in front of your favorite once more. You clapped and felt very fortunate to have gotten such a personal tour.

And, well, very flattered as well that she had taken time out of her busy day to lead you around an exhibit you knew like the back of your hand. This woman was as beautiful as the sculptures themselves, so fine in form, so elegant in her movements. But there were a lot of differences between you and her that made you a little wary of getting rejected, if you did gather up the courage to ask her out.

You two turned to look at each other, both of you smiling. Her painted-red lips opened to say something. They formed your name when there came a loud announcement through the speakers around the museum. ‘Miss Prince, please return to your office, Miss Prince, please return to your office.”

“I’ve kept you for too long,” You said, realizing how much time exactly had flown by. At least two hours! You were just your average guest in the museum but you had taken up far too much of the curator’s time. Diana laughed, shook her head and lightly touched your shoulder. Her hand was well-manicured, warm. Exactly as you thought it would be. Her skin matched her laugh - sunshine.

“No, you haven’t,” She insisted. “I like your perspective on this art. On history. It is refreshing. We should talk more about this.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” You offered with a smile. She nodded enthusiastically, before waving her fingers at you and headed towards her office to get back to work.

And you did return, catching sight of Diana immediately. She was standing in front of the statue that was your favorite, which also now became your favorite meeting place. It was going to be a huge shame when the exhibit moves onto the next location. Diana had told you that it was Germany. The memories you had with these statues were almost enough for you to move along with it.

She was wearing an all white outfit, clean and completely pristine. She fit in wonderfully with all of the statues. “Good afternoon,” You said, walking up to her and stood next to her tall frame. The look that she gave you, the large smile, almost gave you a thought that maybe, just maybe, she admires you as much as you admire her. It gave you a sense of confidence, made your shoulders straighter, your chin a little higher.

“Hello!” She said, surprising you with a hug that you eagerly returned. “I had hoped you knew this was where I wanted to meet you!”

“Right in front of my favorite, I’m surprised that you remembered.”

“There is no way that I could have forgotten,” She said, ponytail swaying behind her back. “The many times that I saw you looking at it - I wish I could gift it to you.”

“Oh,” You said, eyes wide at the very thought. “No, something like this should be appreciated by everyone. That is the artist’s intention. And I would never want to mess with that.” You smiled, though, very flattered that she thought of something like that. “But I don’t wish to take up too much of your time today, you must have work to do.”

“I do,” She admitted, looking over shoulder. It was as if she was looking to make sure that there was no one around. Though of course there was. The Louvre was one of the most famous attractions in Europe, not just in France. There were plenty of people about. It was hard for you to notice most of them however, next to this very striking woman. “So I was going to ask you-”

“Excuse me,” A gruff man said, pushing his way past you. Despite the rule about no food or drinks in any of the halls, he must have snuck something in, since you felt a liquid go across your chest. The smell that rose from it told you that it was coffee. You gasped, as it was still hot, and immediately tried to stretch the fabric away from your chest.

“Security,” Diana said, holding her arm out to stop the man from going further. Two security guards, neither of them being the creepy man, came up and escorted the man to the security office, probably to fine him for bringing in drinks. But you were more focused on your shirt. At least it was warm, not scalding, you might be a little tender where it splashed but it didn’t look like any real burns.

“I guess this is a good excuse as any to buy something from the gift shop,” You said, trying to make it into a joke.

“Are you sure?” Diana said, examining your shirt with a frown. “I don’t know if those stains are going to come out - come with me.”

Rather than take you to the gift shop, she lead you past the restricted areas, to what was apparently her office. There were many books in here, many artifacts. It smelled of her perfume, delicate but enough to wrap around your senses.

She also had a closet, which she opened up and went through. You looked in awe at the amount of gowns that she had in there; there must be a thousand euros worth, at least! She went through them before picking out a blouse of her own, and holding it in front of you. “This may fit you,” She said, sizing it by eye then handed it to you.

“Oh, um, thank you,” You said, looking around, feeling slightly embarrassed. She pointed towards a door that blended in with a row of bookcases.

“You can use my bathroom,” She said, kindly. You thanked her once more, then ducked into it, closing the door gently behind you. It was a standard half-bath - just a toilet and a sink and a mirror. But it seemed to be well stocked with lavish perfumes. Like she highly separated her home life from her work life. You snorted to yourself as you took off your wet shirt, trying to imagine her in sweat pants. She would look like someone out of a gym commercial if she were to try to wear those.

But what you were thinking was she kept her dresses here, her fancy things here. Maybe she only went to extravagant events for work, but did something else in her down time? Did curators even have down time?

You wanted to know everything about her, especially what she was like when she wasn’t around the museum. You buttoned up the blouse that she was loaning you after drying yourself off with some toilet tissue, then set about trying to get the worst of the stain out in the sink. You managed to get most of the brown liquid off but it would still need a run or two through the wash, with real cleaning liquid and not hand soap.

You folded up your shirt and held it in your hands as you left the bathroom, returning to the office. Diana stood there, waiting for you while leaning back against her desk. The way that the sun filtered in through the windows, reflected off the white walls onto her face - magnificent. She straightened up when she saw you come out. “It fits, wonderful!”

“It does, thank you,” You said. “Do you have a bag that I could put this in?” You brought up the shirt that you had been wearing. “Oh, let me take care of that. I’ll get it cleaned, then return it to you. It’s the least that I could do.”

“You didn’t spill the coffee on me, Diana, it’s quite alright.”

“No really. I want to. Because then I can see you-”

There was a knock on the door and two seconds later, it opened to reveal a man with dark hair and brooding features. You recognized him from somewhere. It hit you within a moment though. Bruce Wayne, of American fame.

You also noticed the dark look that went over Diana’s face, and how her smile seemed to drop when she saw who it was. “Diana,” Bruce said, stepping inside.

“Bruce,” She said, in the same low voice.

“Am I interrupting?” He asked, looking over at you. You glanced between the two of them then smiled your best and brightest smile to try to bring light into the room again.

“Not at all,” You said, setting your folded shirt on top of one of Diana’s chairs. “But one more thing, Diana,” You felt a bit nervous about this part but if you didn’t sputter it out before you left, you knew that you were going to regret it. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get dinner sometime next week. To return shirts. If you’re not too busy, that is. If you are, I can just come back and-”

“Dinner sounds great,” Diana said, looking like someone had just turned on the lightbulb inside of her once more. That alone was more flattering than her acceptance, because you had done that. You turned around what Bruce’s visit was, though you still weren’t sure why he was here. “I’ve been trying to ask you for a while but everything just kept getting in the way.”

“I know what that’s like,” You said with a nod. You found a package of post it notes on her desk and scrawled down your name and number on the top sheet. “Call me?”

“Yes, yes I will,” She said with a nod. You bowed your head, gave a respectful smile to THE Bruce Wayne, then headed out of the door, closing it behind you. You didn’t walk away immediately but took in the smell of the shirt that you had borrowed. It had a hint of perfume to it, but it wasn’t strong. It had been washed since she had last worn it perhaps. But it was still faintly there.

The rest of your walk around the museum was not nearly as uneventful as it had been earlier, but as you walked home, your phone began to buzz in your pocket. Unknown number. Only one person that could be and it was a call you were very eager to take.

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