#i also didn’t want to spoil anything in case you decide to continue with the novels

[sandushengshou]

Hi Jackie! Have you read The Untamed books? If so, did you like them? I’ve loved the drama so much but I tried reading the Seven Seas translation of the novels and I just can’t get into the story although I know I love it :( If you’ve read the novels, how much depths does they add to the characters and the story (if they do)? I apologise for all the questions

Hello!

You know, you would probably get a different answer depending on whether the person prefers the novel or the live action. Me? I prefer the live action. I did read the novels and liked them, but to me and I don't know if this take is unpopular or not, the novel and the live action are telling two different stories.

To answer your questions, I think there's definitely more to Wei Wuxian's character in the novel! I like how clear it is that he's a morally gray character because the drama did wash away a bit of that, but also... it was XZ so I forgive them. If you like wangxian, you'll definitely enjoy the novel. I like wangxian, but I'm here for WWX/JC and the Yunmeng trio, and the live action delivered on that. I don't even remember what Jiang Yanli does in the novel except dying, so the live action will get my love for giving her a bit more story. Same with Wen Qing.

The world building is better in the novels and for that alone I would suggest to keep reading them, but also if you don't that's fine. You don't have to like them, so don't feel :( about it. You won't be less of a fan. You can try the donghua if you haven't and then try the novels again if you feel up to it. Have you watched mdzs q? I don't think that one adds more to the story lol but it's cute!

[yuseirra]

ch 160...

I...I didn't want it to happen, I really wish I hadn't been spoiled, I'm so confused about this comic right now. I thought I'd be able to decide if I can drop it or continue reading it the moment the next chapter gets updated, but it's making me feel really confused and lost while still being curious about what in the world is going on. On that aspect, I feel the writer is really very skilled on having people intrigued.

But I really would have had gotten a better idea if I saw these with the drawings, probably.

I can't draw anything at the moment with the plot going like this and I feel like I need another chapter or two to get a clearer idea. 159 didn't stop me, but 160 did, it's just... there are still no answers yet. Maybe they'll keep dragging this on till the anime ends. If this anime's going to get a third season, they better wrap this well, I do care about the hikaai ship and I want Ai to be happy but what I'd like the most to happen is to have the story MAKE SENSE in some way. The author knows what's going on, as for me, I need at least 2-5 more chapters of development regarding just what this chapter is supposed to discuss

so below: here's what I picked up for now, I just.. really can't go on without leaving my thoughts about what I encountered.

So everything I've been thinking about Hikaru's been right...according to his words.

>Nino says the only thing Kamiki's ever done (in a physical sense) about Ai's case is that he "talked" about her to Nino and Ryosuke, and that caused them to break for some reason?

>Nino and Ryosuke approached him first and he had no idea they were obsessed with Ai, so he considered them as his friends.

>Kamiki did not kill Gorou, it was Nino and Ryosuke who went and did it and he didn't go to the hospital because he was concerned that Ai didn't want to meet him. Nino and Ryosuke heads to the hospital and kills Gorou and hides his body. Kamiki did tell them about the hospital Ai was admitted though.

>He REALLY did just want to send a bouquet to Ai and he asked Ryosuke to do it for him (I can't even recall just how many times I said that should be it)

GOODNESS, THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I THOUGHT THINGS WOULD BE. I made a few analyses in the past and let me bring them again:

the texts include the links to the respective theories/analyses posts I've made, so you can read them if you're curious!

If Ryosuke, Nino, and Kamiki are connected in some way,

the one most likely to be acquainted with Ryosuke is Nino.

Ryosuke is a big fan of B-Komachi and Ai and even personally handed over stardust sand at a handshake event. If Ai remembered him as a fan, he must have been either extremely enthusiastic in his activities or conspicuous in some other way. Given Nino’s interest in and jealousy of Ai, it’s highly likely she took notice of Ryosuke.

If Nino found out that Ai planned to have babies, she might see it as an obstacle to Ai’s career as the perfect idol. So, she could have coaxed Ryosuke by revealing this information and formed some kind of collaboration. < this turned out to be 90% true, Nino and Ryosuke knew each other and were even far as dating....

Actually, the idea that he deliberately revealed Ai’s address to have Ryosuke kill her<—there are so many strange things about this if you examine it. It seems more like he carelessly let the address slip while drunk. If it’s true that he revealed the address, that is. When he was feeling down after being rejected, Ryosuke might have said he would go congratulate her on Kamiki's behalf, so Kamiki could have told him the address then (Yes, this speculation sounds stupid... I also think it’s unlikely...he can't be that dumb but). Even if they met for the first time at the hospital, they could have been friends for about four years and he might have been too drunk to judge the situation.

No matter what, he probably didn’t want to kill Ai. < Kamiki says he only prepared the bouquet for Ai.

>As he says this, he's probably a bit agitated, towards Aqua, saying oh? Don't accuse me for what's happened! what DID I do? I did nothing at all! I didn't kill Ai! They did whatever they wanted on their own!!

I need to see what expressions he makes as he says this, that would matter tbh because if Kamiki feels he's being wrongly accused by his own son, I feel like that'd show at least a little bit through his expressions because MAN... that sounds like suffering. but if he's composed, he's still an actor.

>Aqua's reaction towards this is like: Oh, but you want to kill Ruby right? She's your own daughter!!

>Upon hearing this, Kamiki's face turns really creepy and weird (I got a photo that goes with it.. it actually does remind me of the time where Ai told she wants to break up with him with the mouth deforming a little, but it's SUPER CREEPY) while he says: "You're just like me now."

>Aqua says Kamiki manipulates people into killing people while his hands remain clean

>Kamiki says something like: You have those same eyes as I do, it makes you have your way with people and lets you get what you want. You're also guilty of instigating them to do things.

>Aqua says "Yeah, you and I are the same, but Ruby's different. She has eyes that speak of love and she's light. I need you gone for her sake" and draws out a knife.

What I get from this is that, Kamiki does have some sort of power that can make people act out - but I feel like it's unpredictable..

and that power has to do with the star eyes. They finally mention the eyes in this one. Ruby's eyes(white star) is related to love = the god who loves people, the black star should be the one that's irrational and unpredictable, really powerful but disastrous. I feel Kamiki's been possessed by that for a very long time.

Um, here's a theory I had way back in July:

it's really interesting if you start to take kamiki as a god of some sort, because that'd explain how he's unintentionally caused others to grow insane by the things he's said. He told Uehara about Airi and he ends up killing her. He told Ryosuke about Ai and he stalks and murders her. Maybe he's been subconsciously using his divinity of a god making people to take action but it ended up all twisted and it doesn't work out the way he originally intends for it to be. With the case of Yura, what he's said about her ends up coming true too, maybe she really didn't watch her steps on the mountains but that was because of his powers of a god that's caused it?

This would explain why the police never found him suspicious after Goro and Yura's death and the other murders (if he's really caused any/and more of it), there's no way to prove he's the one that'd done it because he really didn't do it in a physical sense.

So Ai, who's returned to being a god now, could be trying to stop him through her children? And Tsukuyomi is getting involved in this because Kamiki's going out of line as his duties as a god(although he doesn't know if he's one) too?

Can't this be it?

Would this guy.. really have wanted Gorou and Ai to die? For what reason exactly?? I can't really think of any good reason he'd have felt the need to do so, if everything he's said himself is true.

This whole idea of Kamiki never having played a part in anything in a physical sense makes perfect sense. I feel like the important thing here is whether he wanted to cause it or not.

I don't know about everything else but WHY would he want to hurt Ai who's having his children? He literally states he loves her, and he still brings bouquets to her grave? The stuff he says to have done fits the way I view his character and how he's used to be when he was young. He really didn't do anything. Yet things go horribly wrong and people keep dying around him. So I feel like he wouldn't have manipulated Nino and Ryosuke into murdering her. His life would suffer less without her death, don't you think?;

So if this is true, then all my theories since July about this guy are totally correct and he's a really unfortunate guy who really does love Ai(we STILL don't know what he's done after her death and that could make him irredeemable)

But I wonder how Aqua is so convinced Kamiki's manipulated people into causing murder cases. Did Tsukuyomi tell Aqua something?;; How can he make that claim? What is the basis? Is he talking about how Kamiki's acted after Ai's died?

In that case, maybe yes. He could have been using these powers he have that he's found to bring Ai back. Here's an idea I had of it sometime back: I just brought the entire post for this one

I think Kamiki may be trying to find something precious enough to trade with Ai's life, may it be his own or someone else's???

Coming to think of it, he met Ruby at the shrine (ch147) and something about a "wish" came up. The way he speaks with ruby, it seemed like he also had his own wish that he's put a lot of thoughts into and came to accept

Mephisto and Fatal both mention about wishes and wishing.

And those wishes have to do with wishing Ai back, are they not??

I'm sorry, I've been repeating the same idea in several posts now but I JUST remembered about that chapter. He's the one that brings the idea of gods back onto the table may it be brief. He talks like he knows about their nature, so he probably is aware of gods or their significance at least, that they actually ARE capable of doing supernatural things. However, Fatal and Mephisto also mention about wishes having failed to come true. That ALSO aligns with kamiki's attitude in that particular chapter saying that gods don't really give out answers and you have to come up with your own. Whatever he's up to, the gods might not have accepted it, or are even against it.

perhaps he's wished to bring Ai back but had been failing miserably, so he's becoming more and more reckless about it.

what he says there makes me wrap my head a little, it sounds like he's been where ruby's been. He might be talking about himself and trying to convince himself of his own resolve

He says he doesn't mind rotting away himself, but there's still something he has to do before that happens. I think that'd have to do with about a wish, he has a goal to fulfill.

I found the full lyric for Fatal(the new op) and it had lyrics like

あなたがいないと生いきていけない

眩まぶしさでこの身みを照てらして欲ほしい

あなたの愛あいがまだ足たらない

ただ一ひとつのアイに近ちかづきたい

I can't live without you

I want you to light up my body with your dazzling glare

I still lack your love

I want to get closer to the one and only Ai.

Aqua wants to get Ai's "revenge", he'd want to see Ai once more, yeah, but that isn't his goal, he doesn't work to meet her again. He plans to fulfill what Ai's really wanted by listening to what she's wanted to say

but the person in Mephisto (who is HUNGRY for Ai's affection) and Fatal actually WANTS to see Ai again, present tense.

あらゆる望のぞみの総すべてを叶かなえたら　ああ果はたせたら

あなたに会あいたい

If I could fulfill all my hopes, all my wishes, all my dreams, if I could make it all come true

I wish I could see you

But how IS this person going to make that happen?

I feel like finding someone that outshines Ai would have something to do with it, coming from how his reactions when he saw ruby having a chance to outshine Ai-

He feels happy about her possibility of her life having even more value than her.

He could just be being a proud dad there (I'm not taking that out of the possibility).. but you see where I'm trying to get at, right? He probably needs someone like that in order to fulfill his wish. Likely their life.

I think those lyrics from mephisto and fatal were there for a reason, those two songs are WAY too similar to each other in terms of the theme and the vibes they're giving. This speaker hasn't given up on the possibility of having Ai back, they talk like that is a thing that CAN happen, they keep.. talking towards them, even when the one they're talking to's already passed long ago. Look at me, You gave me time, Let me hear your voice.. stuff like that. That kind of attitude is more like Kamiki than Aqua. Kamiki talks about rotting away, he's never moved on from Ai's death, has he? It's like she's still alive for him?

So maybe?? Kamiki's trying to trade Ruby's life for Ai's or take her life for that cause because Ruby outshines her and is a good enough tribute to make that sort of exchange? I think that's what Aqua could be getting at,

Kamiki's reactions upon hearing those words seem...very strong.

If he's being falsely accused by his own son as a person who's capable of killing their own daughter for their mother, there is no way he can be so calm about that, right? So that really creepy expression he has could be him displaying his utter despair towards the situation. The words "You're just like me now" can mean a few different things, he could just be taunting Aqua, I'm not taking that out of the picture, but he could also be thinking, 'he's also become the same way I am, crossing lines and despairing while he's at it.'

I'd have to actually look at the way he talks to Aqua in that chapter, the tone of voice…

but I think there are two possibilities.

Either things really never work out the way Kamiki's wanted them to, and so he's lamenting to his son saying that, "strange things keep happening around him (when the black star eyes are turned on) and that Aqua should know what he's talking about because he's been there too"

Or maybe he's just mocking him and saying, "aren't you just like me?"

maybe both if he's been trying to revive Ai no matter the cost. Then that'd mean he's willing to (Yeah, I'm still not giving up in the idea that he does want to bring Ai back)

this chapter is wild.

Isn't there a possibility that Kamiki, could really have been a pure victim and is suffering from these insanity??

What exactly is the "mission" that's been assigned to the twins by the gods? 'If this person becomes an evil god, take them down'? LOL.

Wow, how would Ai think watching everything from heaven and see her son trying to kill his father? I don't think she'd have wanted this to happen, right?

If that sword had purification powers and when you stab someone, it goes 'away with you, evil spirits!' and the toxic energy of the black star dissipates, that would be really funny.

It can't be that everything about the past was a lie, right? Kamiki's past with Ai should still be true. They had this bond.

If none of the disastrous events he's been involved in were intentional, then Kamiki is honestly really pitiful (though, this might not apply to the events after Ai's death). And this ACTUALLY fits the direction I predicted, in a perfect sense.

If it was intentional, I don't get why. There's been no explanation about why he's doing these things, not in the previous chapter or in this one. If it was intentional, then the claim that he didn’t want to hurt Ai must also be a lie. Because at that time, he would have had to manipulate both Nino and Ryosuke, right? But that doesn't seem likely? What's the benefit of doing all that... If this character is truly the avatar of that black star god, it would make sense, but isn't he suffering way too much for that? Even if I give a hundred concessions, it seems like the past up to the point where he parted with Ai is still the truth. In that case... The actions this character is said to have took are consistent with the story he himself testified to. So as soon as I saw that part, I thought, 'Yep... This makes sense.' It fits too well with what I had in mind.

I’ll choose to believe in Ai's judgment and the songs~~~"

You see why I brought back the whole post about Kamiki being Sarutahiko and there's some kind of being that's trying to get back at him??

Please read this post if you haven't, honestly, I feel like this'd be the best explanation for this situation if Kamiki is someone that's "supposed to be saved."

In short, if Ai is related to Ame-no-Uzume, this guy should be related to her husband and he deals with land, guidance, and the balance of the world. Having him despair, corrupt and act out would definitely be concerning to the gods, and it could have led Tsukuyomi to assigning the twins to bring him back to the right path- this is exactly what Ai wanted to happen too?? she wanted to help him if he's still lost.

But Aqua might be thinking Kamiki's been doing all these things on purpose and he wants him gone for good since he's too corrupt at this point.

It IS about time they start discussing these elements being thrown out there so I enjoy it, but I'm still really confused. I do think Kamiki is speaking the truth about Ai...;;

I thought I’d decide whether to continue reading or drop this series after the next chapter... but the fact that the next chapter also pulls me in shows that this author has solid skills. It’s really something.

As I mentioned before, I don’t think blaming all the evil and cause on a single crazy mastermind would make for a good story in terms of the theme of this manga.

For one, I don't believe Ai's death can ever be solely because of Kamiki.(and it doesn't seem like it is but we ain't still sure? Can we be safe about this now?)

Just to add, I'm a 'prophet-type,' you know? An INFJ-

Uh...I feel like I might be able to predict quite a few things. Hahah I do get a lot of things right in the end.

As for making more fan creations... it's kind of tough right now because the story is so unpredictable; it’s hard to draw anything new when I can’t get a grasp on things. I think I need to take a little break for now. And it just so happens that Persona 3's DLC is coming out this week, so I’ll be playing that instead.

But if the story unfolds the way I predicted, it will explain why Ai asked to help Kamiki if he's lost or struggling.

And in my opinion, everything in this manga should ultimately unfold according to Ai’s wishes. A story where Ai ends up looking foolish by falling for some strange person wouldn’t fit, in my view.

Anyway, Kamiki does make the story more interesting whenever he shows up. What kind of character is this guy, seriously?

His son doesn’t trust him, pointing a sword at him, his girlfriend is dead, and while it seems like he’s done a lot, I still think it could only have been for Ai’s sake. If this is all a misunderstanding, then that’s really unfortunate for him. Anyhow he gets into the weirdest and most tragic situations.. even if he has a great appearance, I really wouldn't want to trade my life with his. Even if he's a bad guy, having your own son point a knife at you, being accused to try attempt murder of your own daughter, have the love of your life die by someone who you considered as a friend SEEMS TERRIBLE. Really?? would he have asked for all this to happen? I think he's cursed. He is indeed cursed.

If he's not a bad person, then Ai, save your boyfriend. What a life he has. If he isn't.. well.. then I drop this series because I have no idea what the story will be or maybe I won't, I'll just cross my arms and see just where this manga would end up in the end. But Ai wants him saved. That's the most important thing there is about this guy in terms of future plot deveopment I think?

So, till the next chapter drops! I'll maybe be able to make more analysis when the actual chapter drops and I see the images.

if what kamiki claims is true, then I DID get everything right and it's so funny. I wrote all that and it's really real.

[nuoyipeach]

Carry My Name

Chapter 6

Park Sooyoung X Nakamoto Yuta

warnings: a little sadness

At six months, Yuta had forced Sooyoung to take a step back from her work and leave it to her vice-president, and although reluctant, she decided to listen to her husband knowing he was simply looking out for her and their baby’s best interests. He had already found the best obstetrician and even paediatrician for when the baby comes, and always made sure he attended every one of her check-ups.

“You’re being paranoid Yu-san.” Sooyoung huffed as her husband settled her into bed, making sure she was in the most comfort, one pillow for her back, one for her legs, one on her drop side of the bed, and one extra one in case she wanted to lie down sideways to rest her belly on. Although she found it tiring how much her husband was fussing over her every second, she also enjoyed the extra attention and affection.

But Yuta had another reason for being so paranoid. He refused to tell her, especially after finding out her pregnancy, that her father had been sending threatening mail to her office, which his guards luckily intercepted and sent his way instead. He didn’t know whether her father was that bold and daring or just blatantly stupid, if not both, considering he was the one to write up the peace contract yet is now the first to break one of the clauses.

No threats to be made between agreeing groups.

At this point he was prepared to fight back, but he didn’t want to put his wife through anything, not when her due date was closing in. He upgraded security, had two extra guards follow her everywhere in secret besides the two who do so anyways, and had eyes put on her father to see what he was up to. According to every one of the letters he sent, the old man was seemingly trying to get money out of her, which could only have meant he was running out himself.

Right now Yuta laid his head on his wife’s lap, who was sitting half up in bed watching TV, and pressed his ear against her bulging belly. The more he looked at her, the more he couldn’t believe this was his wife. If possible, it was as if pregnancy made her more beautiful to him, something he would constantly remind her whenever she felt bad about her changing body.

He rubbed her belly with his hand, pushed her nightgown off, and pressed kisses on it anywhere he could, feeling even more content when feeling her hand suddenly brush through his hair.

“My baby.” he whispered into her skin, but loud enough for her to hear. “All mine. I won’t let anything ever come close to hurting you. I will kill whoever puts a tear on your face. I will have ten guards walk with you everywhere, actually no, I’ll have them carry you so my princess doesn’t get her feet tired.”

He stopped when Sooyoung playfully slapped his arm, causing him to laugh. “I knew we shouldn’t have asked for the gender, you’re going to spoil her too much.” she said half scolding. “You can protect her without spoiling her.”

“Impossible.” he said almost as if declaring it. “I will spoil my daughter so no one will be good enough for her. I will make sure we love her so much that she won’t have to find any missing pieces elsewhere. I will give her everything within my power to make her happy.”

Sooyoung shook her head turning her attention back to the screen, while her husband continued smothering her belly with kisses and affectionate words. Inside though, she was the happiest and calm knowing how seriously Yuta was taking being a father, especially to a daughter.

Having grown up with a mafia father herself, and seeing others in her shoes, a slight fear in her had conjured about the upbringing of her child, especially when finding out it was a girl. But seeing Yuta head over heels already over the unborn baby reassured her he was different, he always had been from the day they met until now.

Thinking about the baby, a sudden realisation hit her, and her chest hurt as tears started pooling in her eyes. Yuta was quick to notice and sat up next to her immediately, pulling her into a hug tight.

“What saddens you sweetheart?” he spoke into her hair, hand rubbing her back.

“Our baby girl will grow up… get married… marry, and…” she chocked before continuing at the thought of the next part. “we’ll never see her again…”

“Bullshit.” Yuta’s jaw tightened, his hold on his wife tightening with one hand grabbing her belly as well. “It’s a shit tradition, we both know it. I don’t care where she goes or who she marries. My daughter is mine forever, and I will always keep her my number one priority along with you. She will always have a place in our home, as she will in our hearts.” he pressed a kiss onto her forehead before speaking again.

“I know it scares you, it scares me too… but don’t think about that now sweetheart, for now let’s think about her as our baby. We still have to find her the perfect pink stroller, and baby proof the house.”

His heart softened hearing his wife chuckle through her tears. “We haven’t even picked out a name yet…” she mumbled, snuggling into his chest. He hummed before grabbing her legs and pulling her aside to sit across his lap.

“How about Yumeko?”

“Nakamoto Yumeko?” she faced up at him with a smile. “I guess our daughter and I will both have super long names.” they laughed, her hand moving up to cup his face, her eyes staring at him dreamily and thumb rubbing his cheek. Even though she knew it was the hormones, she also knew her excessive love for him was all reasonable. He may have been her first and only lover, but Sooyoung couldn’t imagine a life without him, at least not a happy one.

She pulled him down to kiss her, a short but deep one, their noses still touching even as they pulled away. “I love you so much, Yu-san.” she snuggled closer, her face in his neck. “I want to be with you every single day for the rest of my life.”

“Me too.” Yuta mumbled, slowly laying down with her clinging on to him. Her father’s letters were nagging at him at the back of his mind, but at this minute he threw it all out and focused on nothing but his pregnant wife in his arms, the only thing he cared about in this life of his.

> 

“F*CK!” Shotaro quickly moved away as things flew his way off of the desk in his boss’s office. The young secretary pursed his lips seeing the mafia leader enraged beyond what he had ever seen, all from one envelope the guards had passed him earlier. He grabbed the letter off the floor, and read its contents, understanding exactly why Yuta was as pissed off as he showed.

“Well, sir?” he asked a little nervously, watching as Yuta paced around the table in circles, kicking whatever was in front of him. “What should we do?”

“Code red.” Yuta muttered, picking up the special landline from the corner table and pressing some buttons. “The contract is no longer viable, and I am definitely not letting that piece of shit go on with his life unpunished. He’s old anyways, what’s he got left to live for.”

His words sent a shiver down Shotaro’s spine, having worked for him so long he had never heard such vile or vicious words leave his mouth. With a simple nod, he cleared up the mess before following Yuta out to meet up the rest who he had called just now, their Code Red task becoming immediate priority.

And despite keeping a level head throughout the whole process, his mind was filled with fear and worry about the only happiness in his life.

>>> 

[thompsborn]

Hi! How are you?

First, thank you for create tbaf and hb, I really love the au's you create and how you tell stories, idk you are amazing. I just needed to tell you :D

Now, I'm sorry if this ruins the 'no spoilers' but can you say if there is a happy ending for homeward bound series or is there not one planned yet?

Have a nice day, thanks!

hello!! i’m pretty good, actually! i hope you’re doing good, as well!!

no one has to thank me for tbaf and hb, these two projects have been very fun to write and have helped me a lot in terms of developing my writing styles and exploring different approaches to writing in general, and i genuinely LOVE writing them (even if i sometimes go a Very Long Time between updating them lmao) so please no need to thank me!! thank YOU for reading them !! ❤️❤️❤️

honestly i’m not against giving spoilers, i’m more just worried about posting them and anyone who may have wanted to avoid them getting upset? it happened a few times back when i wrote reddie fics (the reason i stopped writing for the it fandom is because i would get a lot of messages and asks that were in general not nice and very demanding about what i write and how often i post and it just took all the fun out of it) so i’m just like… overly cautious probably lmao

but!! if anyone WANTS vague spoilers, there are some that i don’t want to share at all because i’m very excited to see peoples reactions to them (there are things i haven’t even told oddy, who i have messaged A Lot about hb and have told the most about my plans for it) but i’m down for some spoilers/hints !!

here’s my compromise i guess for anyone who WANTS to see these hints and mild/vague spoilers and stuff: i’m down to post them, but i’m gonna put them under a read more tab and maybe i’ll start a hb spoiler tag?

homeward bound fic is my tag for the series (i also follow the tag in case anyone else ever wants to post about it pfkfkf) but i’ll tag this homeward bound fic spoilers and any posts in the future that drops hints and shit will be tagged the same !!

anyway, your question: will hb have a happy ending? look under the cut if you’d like to see my answer!!

okay, so here’s some transparency about the series: i don’t have the whole thing planned out.

i have a lot of ideas and i have certain things decided and vague ideas about the other parts, but past the last three chapters of the first fic, i don’t have like proper outlines or anything just yet. i didn’t even have a plan for the first fic when i posted the first like two or three chapters—i was coming up with it as i wrote it and it wasn’t until i was a couple chapters in that i started planning ahead because it was at that point that i realized how massive i wanted the fic to be and it was around that time that i started thinking about making it a series instead of a stand alone fic.

i’m still trying to decide who the antagonists of the second fic are gonna be (i know one, but i’m debating adding more and am ironing out subplots and such)

basically: i don’t know how the series is going to end yet. i’m planning on having the four main fics that will basically be the main story, and then having additional one shots/short fics that kind of fill in gaps and provide moments after college, as the four fics are supposed to encompass one of their school years. this might change, i might make it three fics or add a fifth one or something, but as of now that’s my plan.

while i don’t have the actual ending figured out, i can say with certainty that i want it to be a good ending. maybe not necessarily a super happy one, but it’s not going to end in tragedy. harley and peter are going to have a future together. the spidey squad is going to remain a found family and support system for each other. (also the spidey squad is going to consist of more than the core four we currently have, but i’m not going to spoil that part. it’ll start to be clear who else will be in it group as the series continues. matter of fact, the last chap of the first fic starts that process!)

the one shots that i plan to write based after the end of the main fics will have a lot of snapshots of moments as they all grow up — ups and downs, highs and lows, relationships taking next steps and having fights and making up and everything in between.

this answer is kind of long and rambly, sorry, let me try to summarize my answer in a few sentences:

while the ending of homeward bound has not been officially decided, it is not going to be a bad ending. it’s not going to end in sadness or tragedy. that being said, it might not be a super upbeat ending either, because life will always have its struggles, but the ending will be hopeful and happy in whatever way is most fitting of the series once it ends.

hopefully that answers your question well enough? idk i don’t wanna make it sound like it doesn’t have a happy ending at all, because i definitely want the best for these characters and their futures, but homeward bound has, at its core, been the embodiment of being a realist—not an optimist, not a pessimist, but a realist. the reason i started writing the first fic was because in the emotional turmoil following nwh, i wanted to try and take a realistic approach towards what peter’s story could be following the spell and may’s death and the loss of everything that his life used to be. and also wanted to explore how harry and gwen could be introduced and how harley could be brought into the loop. and of course as a parkner shipper how to make it into parkner as well lol.

life is hard. these characters have been through a lot (and will go through a lot more as the series progresses) but they are strong and they are full of love for each other and that will get them through it.

thank you for the ask!!! genuinely i LOVE answering questions about my fics and having a chance to ramble about them so please feel free to send more!!

[casspurrjoybell-18]

Mutual Desire - Chapter 59

*Warning - Adult Content*

"Why isn't the car moving?"

"Because I haven't decided to go yet," Nabokov replied with no hesitation, without looking at Damien, his eyes fixed on his computer.

Damien Clarke knew that he wasn't going to appreciate the next few minutes. His instinct was in alert mode and Damien was already preparing for the worst. 

Simply by the way Alexander Nabokov spoke, Damien was able to get a feel of the rest of the conversation. Actually, Nabokov was extremely predictable.

"Umm...why?"

Nabokov still hadn't shifted his attention off the laptop and that secretly annoyed Damien.

"I'm giving you a little more time to think about it so that you can properly decide and give me an answer to my offer."

If Damien wasn't boiling in anger right now, he would no doubt have bitterly laughed his ass off, finding Nabokov's words to be profoundly ridiculous and absurd.

"Are you ever going to stop? I wasn't clear enough or you are simply some masochism and take pleasure in being fucking rejected?" Damien swung dryly.

"I know this isn't the answer that you really wanted to give," Nabokov said with a calm which made Damien doubt if the man had heard what he had said.

Damien let out the sour laugh he was holding back and shook his head.

He sighed loudly and rested his head on the headrest. 

He looked in front of him without really looking, spacing out completely. 

The total silence helped him drown in his thoughts. 

His eyes were half open as if Damien was trying to stay awake. 

The expression of abandonment on his face went very well with the emotions he was feeling right now.

"Seriously, I really wonder why you insist so much in fucking me?" Damien whispered, his voice so low that he wasn't sure that Nabokov had heard him.

He looked down, a despondent expression all over his face. 

He felt that this whole shit show with Nabokov was never going to end.

"I don't think I ever asked you that, because I always assumed that you were only messing with me and I still believe that's the case but I want to hear your reason," Damien continued, as if he were speaking to himself.

Damien turned to Nabokov who was watching him impassively, his head also resting on the headrest.

"Is it because you think my ass is extremely tight? Is that why?" Damien inquired in a weak voice.

Nabokov looked at Damien without blinking.

It was impossible for Damien to know what the man was thinking because his face wasn't giving away anything.

"Because if that's the reason then I have news for you, Craig made my ass no longer as tight as before," Damien added, his tone rising slightly and his gaze intensifying.

As vulgar and provocative as these words were, Damien had no intention of taking them back. 

On the other hand, he was starting to lack potential reasons that would make Nabokov want to have him in his bed so much. 

He continued to believe that the only thing that motivated Nabokov to go after him was to be able to spice up his sex life which must surely bore him since the man can have anyone in his bed.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Nabokov replied, his voice sounding just like a whisper.

Damien slightly opened his mouth to reply, trying not to appear to be affected by Nabokov's words. 

When he realized that no word was at the tip of his tongue, Damien only stared at the Russian man before quickly jerking his head towards the window which he began to contemplate again, unable to bear Nabokov's gaze any longer. 

Clearly that wasn't what Damien had wanted to hear from Nabokov. 

It was his turn to be dumbfounded by the billionaire and step back. 

He was suddenly feverish and dehydrated. 

What could he possibly answer to that? Nothing, absolutely nothing. 

The best answer, really, was silence, which was ironically Damien's initial plan before Nabokov spoiled it just as he knew how to do it. 

The conversation seemed to be over or at least on a break, as the noise made by Nabokov's keyboard was heard. 

That didn't bother Damien who had obtained the silence he so dearly wanted. 

The car still hadn't moved but Nabokov was certainly not going to spend the night in the car, though it was most likely equipped to be able to spend an extended weekend without problems. 

Damien was sure that in ten to twenty minutes at best, Nabokov would order his driver to hit the road.

"How lucky of me that I never gave in, huh," Damien Clark whispered to himself, a small bitter smile on his lips.

Alexander Nabokov stopped typing on the keyboard and turned to Damien who had lowered his head, looking at his intertwined fingers. 

Strangely enough, Damien wasn't mad at himself for breaking the silence. 

It was as if he was aware that there were things he was keeping inside that he needed to let out and stop suppress them.

"Because I really dodged a bullet with you," Damien chuckled bitterly and shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

Damien didn't answer right away and he took a deep breath. 

He tilted his head and turned to Nabokov who was staring thoughtfully at him with curiosity and a raised eyebrow.

"You showed me that you are a violent man. I wonder how many of your exes have been abused by you."

Nabokov frowned so hard that wrinkles formed on his forehead. 

He narrowed his eyes and looked intently at Damien.

"I never raised my hand on any of my exes. Not without their consent anyway."

Damien rolled his eyes and he couldn't help but to laugh grimly. 

He tilted his head slightly back, his gaze going to the roof of the car.

"Hmpf. Yeah right."

"You don't have to believe me, Damien but I'm curious to know where I was ever violent to you."

Damien put back his head right and he turned to look at the Russian man as if he had grown a second head. 

The fact that Damien needed to point out to Nabokov where he had acted violently with him was downright insulting. 

Damien couldn't say if Nabokov was just fucking with him or if he was really oblivious to his actions and didn't consider them to be violent.

"You really need me to explain this to you? Do you really have that much of a short memory?" Damien said, irritated.

Nabokov advanced a little towards Damien, his expression softening.

"No one goes to see a doctor without having the knowledge of being sick, right? I can't know if you don't tell me, Damien," Nabokov said, in a surprisingly sweet tone.

"You brutalized me not even five minutes ago. You tackled me on my car," Damien said coldly, a hurt expression on his face.

Nabokov's gaze softened even more and frankly, Damien couldn't stand it. 

He didn't want Nabokov's pity look that didn't suit him at all. 

He would have much preferred that Nabokov behave like the bastard he was rather than act like a caring and affectionate man.

“I'm sorry I did that, Damien. I just wanted you to listen to reason,” Nabokov explained himself, still in this sweetly tender tone.

Nabokov gently slid his buttocks on the seat to get closer to Damien. 

He grasped Damien's hand delicately, not shifting his gaze away. 

Nabokov's sorry eyes seemed sincere but Damien didn't care and wasn't having it. 

Nabokov wouldn't be deceiving him with his emotional manipulation techniques.

"I don't care," Damien eructed, abruptly releasing his hand from Nabokov's. 

"I don't accept your poor excuses. You didn't need to push me like that. You really, really hurt my arm."

Damien felt that tears were going to fall soon.

Crying was the last thing he needed, especially in front of Nabokov who would probably enjoy seeing every drop of tears. 

No matter how much he refrained from wetting his cheeks, Damien knew it was a waste of time and that he would soon make a fool out of himself. 

He needed to get out of the car while it was still possible and escape the humiliation. 

The car had not yet moved and his tears had not yet flowed down. 

Yes, he still had a chance to keep his pride.

"I apologize for that too, Damien. I let my protective side take over," Alexander Nabokov said, expressing regrets while gently taking Damien Clark's left hand.

Damien didn't break free this time. 

He didn't really know what to think of Nabokov's words because he couldn't tell if the man was just putting out his acting as a way to manipulate him. 

Damien didn't see why Nabokov would go out of his way to act as some sort of protector towards him and show off concern for him, when they weren't even friends let alone boyfriends. 

Besides, Nabokov hadn't been nice to him at all, the man showing him an explosive side that Damien had never seen of him before. 

Damien didn't know if Nabokov's caring words were related to the fact that Nabokov really cared about him or if it was just a plan to have him in his bed. 

How to determine the true from the false was damn challenge and Damien was at an impasse as to whether Nabokov deserved the benefit of the doubt or not.

"You twisted my arm. You really hurt me. I thought you were going to break my wrist," Damien Clark whined like a baby, his voice breaking just like his pride was right now.

The tears were soon to come and Damien thought they were going to flow when Alexander Nabokov took his injured arm and began to caress it.

Why was it that when Damien needed Nabokov to act like an asshole that it was where he decided to behave like a knight in shining armor? 

Because his apologies which seemed sincere, his soft voice and his grey eyes which promised all the amazing things in the world did nothing but precipitate the arrival of Damien's tears. 

Damien had made a decision, he wasn't going to drink a single drop of alcohol for the rest of the summer.

"Forgive me. I got carried away by the anger I felt seeing you risking your life and your career by getting into the car in your state," Nabokov murmured, continuing to explain his gesture.

No matter how much he resisted and repeated to himself that it was only manipulation, these words managed to affect Damien to the highest degree. 

Before he could do anything about it, the salt water started to drift from his eyes and Damien was far too overwhelmed by his own emotions to be embarrassed for crying like a six years old kid who just fell off his bicycle. 

He wasn't to blame for his emotional state but the bottle of vodka.

"You... say that you... want me but... you hurt my arm like that," Damien whimpered in a crisp voice, lowering his head, pouting.

Nabokov bent a little and offered chaste kisses all over the arm that had suffered from his brutality. 

This gesture only accentuated the flowing of Damien's tears. 

Alexander took a break and spoke.

"I know. I shouldn't have acted so vigorously towards you. Please, forgive me, baby."

Nabokov stood straight and took Damien's face in his hand who was staring at him with sulkiness and confusion on his face. 

Nabokov advanced his face a little and licked the tear that ran down Damien's cheek before filling it with kisses. 

A groan escaped Damien who could only sit still and let Nabokov do what he wanted. 

Damien was far too hypnotized and drowned in his own tears to make a movement. 

After spreading kisses all over Damien's left cheek, Nabokov did the same on the other cheek, licking the salty liquid and adding extra kisses. 

The billionaire then glued his forehead to Damien's who quickly looked down as he escaped a light relieved sigh. 

The tears had stopped and Damien was starting to regain some of his senses and realize what had just happened. 

Nabokov did not, however, give him time to completely recollect his thoughts, as he took hold of Damien's mouth with his own without any warning.

As soon as Nabokov's lips took possession of his, Damien's whole body began to tremble and his thoughts quickly dissipated from his head. 

All that remained with him were his senses. 

He only felt Nabokov's lips stuck to his. 

He only felt his erection starting to form and Nabokov's tongue that he had just inserted into his mouth. 

Feeling Nabokov's tongue mixing with his own ignited this kiss and Damien's mouth demanded more, deepening the ‘French kiss’ more. 

Nabokov's hand grabbed Damien possessively by the waist while little moans came out of Damien's mouth, his hand touching Nabokov's cheek. 

Nabokov's lips were soft, controlling and eager and Damien didn't complain, letting the Russian man's tongue take over his. 

The kiss had been going on for a while now and the two men lacked air to breathe. 

They parted despite clearly not wanting to and Nabokov took the opportunity to attack Damien's neck, his mouth sticking near his Adam's apple. 

Damien shivered with pleasure, groaning without restraint, though he tried to do everything to remain as silent as possible.

[valentine-cafe]

Can i ask for a specific thing...If possible what if Talisen 164 planned a surprise for Alessio 164's birthday along with their darling? Like, anything Alessio would like, could be a party, could be something romantic and private etc. I would also ask for the other way around (alessio + darling for birthday boi Talisen, if you have time🥺

💓ty!

. ˚◞♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 164 talisen / reader / alessio ꒱ you decide to approach talisen on the matter of spoiling your other husband on his birthday. . .

𖹭. content warnings◞  none! . 0.8k

𖹭. receipts◞  THIIISSS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE AH! love me reader and talisen teaming up to spoil alessio hhh

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. when you first approached talisen to tell him of your idea to surprise alessio on his birthday, talisen was admittedly a little cautious. and told you gently that he wasn’t certain how alessio would react to it. considering he was never really one to celebrate his birthday. but, he complied. thinking that it was about time that the tradition of simply forgetting the date should be no more

𖹭. so, the both of you got to planning. and it certainly didn’t take too long to find what the both of you would get up to. alessio didn’t really seem like the kind that liked bashes - and besides, it would only be the three of you in any case. so you both plan out a nice little picnic with all of his favourite snacks

𖹭. you had to make up some silly excuse when he came around curiously, something like ‘oh all these snacks that you really really like? oh - I uh - it’s for a charity event in the town’ and muster all your strength to not cup his face and squish it - tell him that it was all for him - when he gave you those emerald puppy eyes

𖹭. thankfully talisen came to save you from the little ordeal by distracting alessio with question about work. leading him off so that you could continue with the array of treats and food

𖹭. when the day came, needless to say you were a tad bit nervous. talisen’s words when you first approached him echoed and you found yourself asking - what if he doesn’t like it? what if this upsets him?

𖹭. but as you sat there on the picnic blanket, you eventually saw that familiar head of black hair trailing behind the taller rhytaari - you felt your body completely freeze up - if only to melt when you saw those emerald eyes once more. widening slightly before softening when they meet you.

“now, what’s this?”

the quiver in his voice makes your heart twist and you immediately pat the spot beside you. gaze never leaving his as you try to ease whatever you fear.

“I. . . I’m sorry. I just really wanted to spoil you — you work so hard and I just - I -”

you are hushed by the warmth of his presence as he settles beside you. an assuring hand finding your side when his arm hooks around you. his shoulder cushions your head and he presses a kiss atop your crown. a small, somewhat solemn smile on his dark lips.

“no apologies, stellina. I do not mind. thank you.”

talisen settles on his other side. a clear look of relief written over his own serene features.

“well thank the yonder,” he murmurs, receiving a bit of a chuckle from alessio who glances back at him. his free clawed hand rising to cup at his jaw. so that he might press a kiss to his husband’s cheek as well.

“did I make you both anxious?”

“hardly.”

“exceptionally.” you squeak, to which talisen casts you a playful look before he sighs and nods. slumping against his husband’s side with a small huff. “it has been years. . . I suppose I assumed that you detested it after. . .”

the thick silence lasts for only a moment, as alessio waves his hand a bit and shakes his head. chains from his horns clinking in the moonlight.

“it is more than I could ever ask for.”

his thumb rubs circles on your hip when his hand lowers and he snuggles up against the both of you. a comfortable quiet taking over the three of you as you simply enjoy one another’s presence below stars.

“I will say,” he soon muses. eager eyes casting at the basket not too far away. “I’m relieved that all my favourite treats are actually for me and not some people in the town -”

“oh please. you think too much with your stomach.” talisen chastises tenderly.

“but it’s churros! come on,”

you can all but giggle. swiping the basket over quickly and snatching the aforementioned treat. rising it to his black lips as you gaze at him with affectionate hues. to which he happily parts his mouth and lets you feed him. his tail swaying behind him.

“happy birthday.” you croon,

if only to giggle when you notice talisen’s big eyes from over alessio’s shoulder. and you snatch a strawberry cookie to feed him as well.

𖹭. needless to say. alessio was all on board when you approached him on the matter of doing the same for talisen.

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[peachycoreroo]

what about some haikyuu boys trying to explain how morning erection works to their s/o? if you could include Kuroo, Sugawara, Oikawa and Satori I'd be more than grateful 🥺

characters: kuroo tetsurou, sugawara koushi, oikawa tooru, tendou satori

genre: smut, a miiiini plot bc i can't control myself

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fem!reader but can be read as gn!reader, also kinda oblivious!reader?, established relationships, the slightest somnophilia (reader is just grinding while oikawa is asleep, he wakes up immediatly tho), handjob, morning wood (obvs), implied sex

authors note: omg this was my first ever request, thank you sm anonnie! i'm so sorry bc i'm pretty sure i got carried away and only kuroo and tendou really fit your request, but i still hope you'll like it<3 this was actually really hard bc i was so anxious about fucking up my first request, i also didn't really know much about morning woods (well now i do heh) and i find tendou kinda hard to write for but i really wanted to make anon happy. i stayed up till 4am for this🧍‍♂️here's a link to my masterlist<3

pt.2: kageyama tobio, haiba lev, hinata shoyo

kuroo tetsurou:

���your dick does what, why now?”

kuroo rolled his eyes. this is the third time he has to repeat himself and you still look at him as if you’ve never heard anything more complicated in your life.

sighing, the tall male leaned back against the headboard of your shared bed, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could, with you finally quenching your curiosity about his morning wood, and said morning wood pressing against his boxers and your sheets.

“one more time, y/n, there’s a number of reasons. first of all, the male body has its peak of testosterone in the morning. basically, the sudden increase of the hormone in the changing stages from being asleep to waking up, can get your guy up.” as he saw you open your mouth to ask a question, he immediately followed with: “yes, even without actually being aroused”, effectively making you shut your mouth again. the fact that he knew exactly what you wanted to ask, made him chuckle. kuroo knew you like the back of his hand.

“another one is that my body is aware of what’s going on, even when i’m asleep. if your ass grazes my dick, it’s gonna react.” grinning proudly, you sat yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“mhh, i’m glad you can’t resist me, even in your sleep. so… you want some help with that?”

the dark-haired male decided to play along, putting his large hands on your waist, pulling you closer and leaning in, just to stop a few inches from your lips and murmur: “you know, i could also just need to pee really bad”, making you lean back and stare at him dumbfounded.

as much as he wanted to actually teach you about this topic, kuroo would never pass up an opportunity to tease you.

sugawara koushi:

as suga jerked awake, he immediately became aware of his severe case of a morning wood. not only that, but he could also feel your ass pressed up snugly against it.

once the sleep slowly drained from the man’s eyes, he noticed that it was still dark outside and quickly checked the time to see his alarm clock reflecting the numbers 5:50 a.m. back at him. he knew he had to get up at 6 if he wanted to be an exemplary teacher and get to school earlier to prepare for class, but with the way your ass was pushing against his hard dick, his mind was too clouded by lust to care. he needed you, and he needed you now.

“baby, wake up”, in suga’s husky morning voice was the first thing you heard as you were gently stirred awake. when you cracked your eyes open, the silver-haired man was already kneeling between your legs, cock heavy and leaking against your panties.

yawning, you asked concerned: “kou’? what’s wrong? is everything okay?”

not being able to wait any longer, sugawara slowly started grinding against you through your shorts, making your breath hitch and legs spread wider.

“y-yeah, just a morning wood emergency. i can’t go and teach like that. let me use you quickly, princess”, suga almost whined, pained.

trying to hold in your whimpers to understand what led to this, your eyes jumping from the male’s handsome face to his pretty, hard dick, you wondered: “what’s gotten into you?”

at that, suga scoffed, amused at you wanting to know what led to his erection instead of getting to business right away.

“woke up to your pretty lil’ butt all snuggled up against my dick. you make me hard, even in my sleep y/n”, he rasped impatiently, but still wanting to quench your interest.

despite the fact that this was definitely not the most romantic thing you have heard from sugawara koushi, you couldn’t stop the butterflies erupting at the thought of him craving you this badly, even while asleep.

“c’mere kou’”, you softly murmured, pulling him down for a kiss, ready to help your boyfriend’s morning problem.

oikawa tooru:

tonight, wasn’t your night. you barely got a wink of sleep, while your boyfriend slept like a stone beside you. you knew it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t sleep, but that didn’t stop you from sulking like a spoiled child.

you were tired but also incredibly horny, and as if some gods heard the prayers you didn’t even direct at them, you noticed oikawa’s morning erection standing loud and proud under your shared sheets like every morning.

not wasting a moment, you ripped the sheets off him, straddling his lap and grinding your soaked panties against his erect boxer-clad cock. it’s not the worst feeling oikawa has ever woken up to, in fact it was definitely one of the best. everything’s better than being slapped awake by iwa-chan’s shoe hitting him in the face back in high school.

as the tanned man started to fidget and his calloused hands landed on your hips to guide you along his cock, your curiosity about his daily morning wood got the best of you.

“why are you hard every morning, tooru?”, you asked innocently, while not-so-innocently continuing to tease him with your hips.

“u-uh, something about hormones a-and, oh shit, faster babe”, oikawa needily pleaded, not in the mood to be explaining the scientific reason behind his reoccurring morning problem.

unsatisfied with the answer, you stopped the grinding to frown at him and complained: “but i wanna know more, tooru.”

the brunet looked up at you, groaning but knowing you wouldn’t just let it go. “fuck, okay. how about this: you make me cum, and i answer all your questions about… morning woods, after. deal?”

“…deal.”

tendou satori:

you woke up before tendou, feeling his hard-on press against your naked thigh, making you want to continue the fun you had last night.

luckily, your boyfriend also woke up, though not as happy about his morning wood problem as you.

“’tori… i need you”, you seductively purred, letting your petite hand slide down to his erection, wrapping around it and giving it a few slow, lazy pumps. to your surprise, your usually vocal-in-bed boyfriend didn’t moan, but only tensed at your ministrations.

not thinking much of it, you attached your lips to the base of his throat, sucking and licking while giving his cock a hard tuck, hoping to get a pretty moan out of him.

what you didn’t expect however, was for tendou to jump up and run to your bathroom while squealing like a little schoolgirl. dumbfounded, you froze in the position you were in, leaning towards where your boyfriend was laying just a few seconds ago, with your hand in a half-fist.

after a few minutes, the red-haired man sheepishly re-entered the room, scratching the back of his blushing neck with a matching blush on his face.

“i-i uh…”, at his voice cracking, tendou cleared his throat before continuing: “i’m so sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean to run off like that.”

finally breaking out of your stiffness, you looked at him, puzzled, before asking: “why did you run off? if you didn’t want to make-out, I would’ve understood a simple no.”

“it’s not that! it’s just… morning wood doesn’t always mean i’m horny, sweetie. sometimes it happens when you desperately need to pee.”

“oh”, you awkwardly remarked, “i didn’t know that ‘tori, i’m so sorry. i just thought…”

chuckling, tendou leaned down, kissing your forehead and reassuring you: “don’t worry angel, you never stop learning.”

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

Raising Kore part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

The healer was a woman named Tasherit, delicate hands but sharp tongue. She touched Horus with care, but the care she would have used for any of her patients, whispering under her breath about the unconsciousness of youngling.

Horus was technically the Pharaoh (very, very technically) and would have had every right to make her pay the offense.

Okay, he made a mistake. Several mistakes, actually. But Tasherit was only a mortal, and a commoner too. She had no right to tell him what to do or scold him.

But Horus didn't want to. Partly because he knew Seth was going to stop him before he even tried, convincing him that he was worse than Ra in terms of temper. And on the other, precisely because he did not want to be like Ra. He had heard the stories about how she, in the last period of her reing, had become unpredictable, a pharaoh to be feared because one moment she smiled and was kind, the next moment she sent Sekmeth to exterminate a city because she was bored.

Ra held power with fear. Osiris with strong but benevolent guidance. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the Egyptians loved most.

"Kore's intervention was timely. - Tasherit said, after finishing bandaging the leg of the young god. - It slowed the poison. The divine Horus will not lose his leg. "

"So, won’t Birdie die?" Kore asked with a bright gaze, and Horus wondered why she cared so much about him when he had kidnapped her and nearly had her killed.

Seth's expression didn't change, his lips tightened in a thin line as he said, "Unfortunately, no."

"Uncle, I ..."

Seth cut him off, “Save the apologies. You did something reckless and dangerous. What would have happened if there had been more giant scorpions? Only one was enough to do this to you. "

It was embarrassing to admit that yes, Horus had fared worse than he expected. He should have been a warrior, he had been trained from an early age in the arts of war.

His tutors had praised him for his skills. Unnecessary praise, Horus in a real battlefield had been mediocre at best. How did he think he could face Isis and her (possible) allies in these conditions?

He wasn't a wizard, he wasn't an exceptional warrior, he was a spoiled prince who had never fought for anything in his life.

He needed Seth, and if his uncle continues to refuse to help him, Horus will never take back the throne.

“Dad, don't be so mean to birdies. He helped me." 

Seth snorted, "He put you in danger first for his brilliant idea." 

“He didn't want to do it. Isn't that right, birdie? "

 Horus nodded stiffly, not trusting his voice. He certainly couldn't tell her eh I just wanted to take you to my nearest temple and force your father to help me. 

It wouldn't have made a good impression on him. 

He paused to observe the little girl's red hair. His aunt Nephthys used to say that her husband's hair was as red as the setting sun. Kore's were a deeper red. 

Horus had assumed that his uncle had decided to take her into his custody because of Kore's strong magic. Now he doubted it. Maybe she was really his daughter. 

But his aunt had never talked about her, not even when she mentioned her husband's exile. 

 Did it mean that the mother was another goddess? Maybe a mortal?

 It didn't seem right, not when he had heard stories about how much Seth loved Nephthys (he had abandoned her anyway, even though he loved her). 

He could not find another plausible explanation. 

But Horus didn't have to jump to conclusions. Look how it went well the first time. 

The only way to know, however, was to ask directly. It didn't seem the case, not with Kore and the healer there. 

Though he doubted that, alone, his uncle would be inclined to talk.

 "As soon as the leg is healed, you will go away, and you will never be seen again ..." 

"I'm afraid it won't be a thing anytime soon," Tasherit said, drawing the attention of the god of war. 

"What do you mean?"

“The poison is still in the divine Horus system, and it will take at least a few months before I can fully expel it. Also, given the condition of the leg, he may not be able to leave even if he wants to. " 

Although it was bad news, Horus became enlightened. It took a few months to recover. It meant he had time to get his uncle to help him. It was a new possibility. 

He won't waste it.

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Extra

Day 8, bonus round for the challenge created by @cursebreakerfarrier. While it is focused on Scarlett Tempest she isn't actually a participating believe it or not.

Professor David Willows @that-scouse-wizard is having a hard time writing a letter to Scarlett's parents and he turns to a fellow professor for advice.

Phil Baker in mention belongs to @samshogwarts

Professor David Willows crumpled up another piece of paper, swearing under his breath. He had honestly never believed he would meet a child as bad as Scarlett Tempest and with two kids, he honestly believed he had seen it all. If anything he had placed bets with his wife on who would be the most mischievous or the rebel based on the parents. To his surprise he already lost some good money since he bet on Talia’s kid who apparently was actually a good student.

Scarlett on the other hand had been chaos. Her snarky attitude and colorful choice of words had only gotten worse with each passing year. Detention did nothing to tame her, if anything it was as if it made it worse.

Sighing he tried again, the anger still bubbling in his chest. Not only had she gotten in a physical fight a few days prior, she had flashed a ghost and after that she disrupted his class multiple times, flipping him off, cursing and he just had enough.

Worse of it was that she actually was a decent student in his class and he knew if she only tried a bit she would be even better.

“I am writing to you in order to advise you that your daughter IS THE SPAWN ON SATAN in case you didn’t already know.” Frowning, he continued despite knowing full well he would not be sending it, however he needed to let out some of the frustration “She swears more than a sailor, trash talks everything and everyone, I’m honestly surprised more people don’t try to hex her.” Throwing that away he decided to try again later and instead joined the professors in the lounge.

There he found Talbott, reading up on essays from students “Do you have a moment?” he asked him as he approached.

“One second please, let me finish this.” As he was reading the last lines, David went over to the window to look at the students and prepare a coffee. As he did so, he saw Scarlett wearing an outfit that was not proper school attire, followed by Phil Baker with his camera. Releasing a heavy sigh, he decided he actually didn’t want to know “Alright, how can I help?”

Looking over at Talbott, David finally spoke “You have miss Tempest in your class don’t you?” Talbott humming in response “How does she act?”

Talbott tried to not roll his eyes at the mention of her name “She’s very spoiled, entitled and has no filter.”

“And how do you manage to deal with her?”

Getting up, he also went to pour himself some tea “How about you tell me what she did and we’ll go from there.”

Scoffing, David inhaled deeply “How about we go with what she didn’t do, the list is shorter.” Talbott actually nodding at his words “All things considered she’s actually a fairly good student, but her attitude leaves much to be desired.”

“Who do you partner her up with?”

David’s brows raised slightly at the sudden question “Well I usually partner her up with top students so she can learn from them.”

Talbott asked a few names, David nodding “Well you see, this is where you’re wrong. Not because they are better, but because first off they are male and secondly their attitude isn’t also the best.”

“What?”

“They are in a sense similar to her, not as bad granted, but they clash. Also she hates men, she made it perfectly clear. You and me included. Why do you think she fares better when there’s a woman teaching the class?” Glancing past Talbott, David felt his eye twitch as he saw Scarlett again, his colleague following his gaze “It’s safe to pair her up with him if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Actually I was thinking what is she wearing?”

Smirking, Talbott tried not to laugh “Stop asking yourself questions you don’t want answers to.”

Once David got back to writing the letter to her parents, he was actually more calm.

“I am writing to you in order to request a meeting so we can discuss some events related to your daughter. While this does not concern her grades I am afraid that if she continues to have the same attitude during and outside of classes, she might actually miss out on several opportunities…”

[ericspinkhair]

wedding fun

pairing: dom!eric, dom!sunwoo x sub! reader (no gender specified but has a vagina)

word count: 2.7k

synopsis: it’s Changmin’s sister’s wedding and his younger sibling gets super drunk and loses their virginity to Eric and Sunwoo

a/n: please send in requests!

y/s/n = your sister’s name

pt. 2

masterlist + requests

Tears were welling up as you saw your beautiful sister walk down the aisle, holding onto your dad’s arm. She looked absolutely stunning with her dark hair in a fancy updo and the silver makeup shimmering on her face. Her eyelids were painted a lovely purple and the exact same color could also be found on all the bridesmaids’ dresses. After all, it was her favorite color.

Y/s/n took the hands of her very-soon-to-be-husband and looked him deep in the eyes. Everyone in the room could see the love these two had for each other. You were wondering whether you would ever be able to find this kind of love in your life. This far you had been unsuccessful and being alone scared you. But being an idol also made having a significant other very difficult so you love would not be an option for a long time.

Immersed in your own thoughts, you were taken by surprise when you heard “I do’’ already coming out of your sisters mouth.

“And do you, Kim Hanseob, take y/s/n as your beloved wife and promise to stay by her side until death do you part?’’ The room was filled with anticipation as everyone waited for him to answer. You swore to god if he didn’t say yes you’d haunt him down and make sure to kick him there where it really - “I do,” he said and before the priest could continue he had already cupped your sister’s face and planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

You could feel tears running down your cheeks and tried to wipe them away. Your eyes met your brother's, Changmin, who also appeared to be crying and he flashed you a big smile. You grinned back.

Then your gaze fell onto your fellow members who were applauding loudly and cheering. Both your and Changmin's group were invited to sing later. That's why Changmin was sitting with his ten friends/co-workers/members in the audience and, on top of that, six girls were waiting for you there as well. You stood up there in your purple dress near your sister as you had the honor of being the bridesmaid (ever since you were little you had made it very clear that that position would be yours and threatened your sister with various horrifying scenarios in case she chose someone else).

After everyone gave heartbreaking speeches, it was time to dance and get wasted. At least that was what seemed to be planned for you. During your sister’s speech, she told everyone to get you drunk. Apparently that was her biggest wish for the night and only after that could she truly be happily married. You had turned twenty not even two months ago (Korean age) and are now a legal adult who could do adult things like drinking. The first glass was handed to you by Changmin who would not answer what kind of liquor it was and maybe half an hour later you felt quite tipsy.

Y/s/n had requested you to sing ‘Always By Your Side’ (her favorite b-side of your group) so that’s what your group performed. After that The Boyz sang ‘Break Your Rules’ and, surprisingly, Changmin’s friend Sunwoo seemed to be the most into it. Maybe it was the alcohol but you couldn’t stop staring at his luscious lips and pretty smile. His positive energy spread like a virus and the corners of your mouth wouldn’t go down.

Just as you had finished your seventh glass, another one was held right in your face.

“Having fun?” Eric teased you as you took a couple of big sips and smiled contentedly. You had never realized how beautiful this man was. His sharp jawline and divinely carved nose seemed to catch your attention. Gosh, has he always been this attractive? Noticing the slight blush on your cheeks, Eric smirked at you.

You danced a little bit together and just jammed out to the music. You tried not to look at him in fear you might not be able to take your eyes off of him. You had always sworn that Changmin’s friends were off limits. Especially his members. But it wasn’t your fault that he had decided to look so damn fine in his suit today.

Suddenly someone tapped you on your shoulder and when you turned around you saw a fine as hell looking Sunwoo smiling brightly at you two. He was holding a tray with shots and handed them to you. Y’all linked arms and downed the liquor. Since you've had multiple glasses already, you didn’t even really feel the burn in your throat anymore.

You did silly dances like the floss or copied the point dance of ‘Shine’ by Pentagon. Then the music took a different direction and suddenly ‘Whiplash’ by NCT127 was blasting through the speakers. Now you had to adjust your dancing accordingly. Eric and Sunwoo came a lot closer and you could feel their breaths on your face and neck. Not really caring anymore you gave in and moved your body to the rhythm. One of the boys was grinding from the front and one from the back and you could feel something hard poking you from both sides. You ground your body on the two boys and were enjoying how their breathing became heavier and heavier.

Only as Sunwoo started placing wet kisses on your neck did you become aware of your surroundings again. You quickly looked around to see if anyone was staring but the rest seemed to be equally as drunk and immersed in their own stuff. Changmin was having a dance contest with one of your members and Kevin was twerking on the side.

You let out a moan as Eric sucked a hickey on your collar bone. Not wanting them to stop but also being kind of embarrassed at being in a public space, it took you all of your restraint to groan out a “we shouldn’t be doing this here.”

“Wanna go somewhere more private?” wasn’t necessarily the response you had expected. The suggestion had come from Eric who was now caressing your sides while coming dangerously close to your chest. At this point Sunwoo was humping your butt from behind. Your panties were soaked and you were rubbing your legs. Your whole body was screaming to say yes and leave with these two sexy men.

“I know a perfect place here where we can take good care of you. Do you want us to spoil you, baby? We can make you feel so good. You’ll be screaming our names all night. Do you want that?” Sunwoo whispered into your ear. At this proposition you nodded eagerly and the alcohol in your system made your head spin. The triumph was visible in Eric’s face and he took you by your hand and led you away.

As soon as the door to the hall closed, Sunwoo spun you around and crashed his lips onto yours. Your inexperience was overpowered by your intoxicated state of mind. The alcohol seemed to take over and your mouth and tongue moved on their own.

“As much as I would like to join you, we need to go quickly before someone sees us,” Eric urged you and you parted in dismay. The venue your sister had rented for the wedding was huge and you found yourself locked in a room on the fourth floor, far far away from the rest (most importantly from Changmin).

The beautiful purple dress was now lying somewhere in a corner (but you made sure they took it off carefully) and your bra was nowhere in sight. Pressed against the wall both of your nipples were being taken care of by the two boys. Someone was biting, someone was licking and it all felt like heaven. Sunwoo’s thigh in between your legs prevented you from rubbing your legs together but you still got a good amount of friction and rubbed yourself on his muscle.

“Who knew that y/n could be so horny? My leg is completely wet from your pussy.”

“Then take your pants off,” you contered, not knowing what exactly came over you. Sunwoo, as well as Eric, wasted no time in discarding their pants and underwear and left you staring at the two most beautiful dicks you had ever seen. And also the first ones. You didn’t move, not really knowing what to do. They must have noticed too as they each took your hand and led it to their cocks. They slowly guided your hands up and down their shafts. After a while they let go and you rubbed a bit quicker, enjoying the effect you had on them.

The logical next step was to suck so you knelt down. First, you let your tongue taste Sunwoo’s tip and he let out a heavy sigh. Feeling more confident, you started by licking up his shaft before wrapping your mouth around the head. It was big and tasted a bit salty but it felt so good knowing that you were bringing pleasure to this pretty boy.

“Baby, do you want to taste me too?” asked Eric and you switched. Now you were sucking Eric’s length and stroking Sunwoo. Eric let out small moans and grabbed your hair tightly. You looked up at him and admired his physique (you hadn’t noticed that they had taken off their shirts).

They took turns using your mouth and even started gently thrusting and you were a bit overwhelmed with how thick they were. Eric’s pumps were getting quicker but suddenly pulled out. Did you do something wrong?

“Fuck, y/n! You’re going to make me come already. We haven’t even shown you the real thing.” Sunwoo helped you stand up and then pulled your panties down. He picked you up and lay you down on the bed. Before you could register anything happening, you suddenly felt something very wet connecting with your heat. Sunwoo had licked a strip up your pussy. Your body arched as he sucked on your clit, the sensation feeling overwhelming.

“Look how sensitive y/n is. I wonder how our baby will react when we put our dicks inside.”

“I’m a virgin!” you suddenly blurt out. You weren’t sure why you told them but it probably wasn’t wrong to let them know.

“That’s okay, baby,” Eric responded while Sunwoo began fucking you with his tongue, “We’ll take good care of you.”

Sunwoo moved to the side and Eric took his place in between your thighs. He then planted a big kiss on your lips as he pushed one finger inside. The sensation felt a bit foreign. Of course you had fingered yourself before but having someone else do it was very different. Instead of going super fast like you had expected, he took his time. It was easy to adjust and soon you felt another finger at your entrance.

Your pussy took the second digit in as well but this time the discomfort was more noticeable. Apparently it was also visible on your face because Sunwoo began exchanging wet kisses with you and massaged your nipples as a distraction. He mumbled soft praises against your mouth, telling you how good you were being.

“I think y/n is ready,” Eric said after a while. You had been approaching your climax and felt a bit disappointed.

“You do have condoms, right?” you asked a bit panicked, remembering that you were not on the pill. Sunwoo stood up and picked out condoms from their pants. He held them up while smirking at you. Seems like they came prepared.

Once you felt more comfortable, you gave him a nod and he started moving. Sunwoo began very slowly but as you started showing signs of pleasure he increased his speed. He was placing hickeys all over your collarbone and neck and you were tugging at his hair. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see Eric watching you while stroking himself, patiently waiting for his turn. Slowly Sunwoo’s breaths and thrusts started becoming sloppier and then, while moaning out your name, he came hard in his condom.

Sunwoo rolled the condom over his hard penis and aligned himself at your entrance. He stroked your face.

“You have nothing to worry about. Try to relax.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile as if to tell him that you were going to be just fine. He kissed you deeply as he pushed in. The sensation felt overwhelming so you grabbed onto Sunwoo’s arms. He held still while trying to distract you with kisses.

He was trying to catch his breath but Eric left him no time and pushed him aside. Without any hesitation, he shoved his dick right into you and began pumping. He started with an already high speed so you felt quite a strong sensation from the start. He held you by your hips and kept a fast pace. Your eyes were rolling back in pleasure as he was fucking you hard. It didn’t hurt, it was like waves of pleasure were running over you. Since he had already jerked off when Sunwoo had had his turn, he didn’t last as long as the other boy did.

“Can I come on you?” he asked you as he picked up the speed even more. Barely being able to respond you slightly nodded and he suddenly pulled out. He took off the condom, stroked his throbbing length a few times and then shot his load all over your body. Some landed on your belly, some on your tits and some even on your face. Eric let out stuttering groans as he unloaded his cum onto you. Thinking you were done, you tried to get up but was quickly pushed back down onto the mattress.

“You didn’t come yet,” Eric stated matter-of-factly. He lowered his face to your heat and started lapping. You felt very sensitive and gasped in surprise when you felt Sunwoo playing with your clit. Damn, these boys definitely knew what they were doing. Like this, you came closer and closer to your high. At this point you were sure that you were screaming a lot but didn’t know whether anyone could comprehend your words. Feeling that you were almost there, Sunwoo and Eric picked up their pace and, not long after, your eyes rolled back into your head and darkness took over.

Your orgasm was very intense and wet. After your body had finished, you felt very weak and exhausted but satisfied. Not really being able to open your eyes again you just lay there. You barely noticed the boys cleaning you up before sleep overtook you.

You woke up feeling extremely sore in between your legs. Opening your eyes was tough but when you did you wished you hadn’t. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. First of all, you were completely naked and so were the two boys next to you. Even worse was that these were your brother’s members, the only people you had sworn to avoid any romantic (let alone sexual) contact with. Your head was also hurting and you felt like throwing up. So this is what alcohol did to you.

Sunwoo and Eric seemed to be still sleeping so you just quickly dressed yourself and ran out of the room. How do you even deal with this kind of situation? Now you had to avoid Sunwoo and Eric for the rest of your life and also had to keep a big secret from Changmin. If he ever found out you’d be dead but what would happen to the two guys who had fucked you seemed to be an even worse fate. You felt kind of dirty having been used by two men but at the same time it had felt so good. You even came and that amount of pleasure was something you had never felt before. Sadly, this kind of scenario could only ever happen again in your dreams.

[andreafmn]

Choices - Part 1

Word Count: 3,913

Requested: by me; inspired by a TikTok POV

Story Description: After the snap (Y/N) and Steve decided to shift their friendship into a romantic relationship. After the Battle of Earth, and Thanos’s ultimate defeat, Steve had to travel back in time to return the stones, but what (Y/N) doesn’t know is he’s not returning. The man leaves to his best friend the hard task to break the news to his lover. But what will happen if Steve returns in an unexpected manner? 

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part: 1/3

A/N: I just gotta say I only have spoiled knowledge of what happens in Endgame because I refuse to acknowledge its existence and I’ll never watch it. Anything I write that is not cannon, whoops. But this one-shot is inspired by a POV I stumbled upon in TikTok and I just needed to write. Had to divide it into two parts because it was getting too long.

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                                                        ***

 It had taken 6 years and losing almost everyone we loved for Steve and me to admit our feelings for each other. After seeing our closest friends dissipate into fine dust we decided life was too short to wait for the right time. 

That was 5 years ago. Our relationship had been solidified as the years went on and the loss of Nat and Tony in the Battle of Earth only bringing us closer.

But something had changed. These past few days Steve had grown distant and quiet, only acknowledging me when we were in our bedroom or stuck in training. All I could attribute it to was that he was nervous about traveling to return the stones. Normally, he would talk to me about what was clouding his mind but nowadays he was acting as if we were strangers. 

Thankfully, I had a friend to occupy my time with. Bucky and I had developed a close friendship since meeting him back when he still was the Winter Soldier. Being part of his recovery was the catalyst to the relationship we have today. Losing him in the blip was horribly heartbreaking but it brought me and Steve closer. Now that he was back, I was able to have someone I could confide in the understood the Captain’s brain. 

“Hey, Buck,” I announced my arrival as I saw Bucky getting some water in the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Not really,” he sighed. “The nightmares, you know?” 

He was right, I did know. Although I wasn’t blipped I had my own demons I was still battling with. “Yeah, I get it. I’m making grilled cheese, do you want some?” 

“Grilled cheese? At 3 am?” He chuckled. “What’s wrong?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Come on, (Y/N). You only eat grilled cheese at this time when you’re worried about something.”

“You know me too well,” I sighed. “It’s Steve. He’s been really weird this past few days.” 

“Weird how?”

“He’s been kinda avoiding me lately and I don’t know why.” A few tears were threatening to spill, but I did my best to dry them before they fell. “It’s like nothing I do is good enough, like he’d rather be anywhere but close to me. Does he hate me? Is it something I did?” 

Bucky got up from the chair he was sat in and wrapped me in a hug. I couldn’t hold off the tears this time. “There’s nothing you could do that would make that man hate you, he’s probably just in his head about traveling in time.” 

“I thought so, but why wouldn’t he talk to me about it. There’s not a single thing we haven’t been able to talk about up to ‘til now. What’s so important about this that he can’t talk to me about it.” 

“Don’t stress yourself over this, doll. I’m sure after tomorrow everything would go back to how it was.”

Bucky’s POV

And at that time I did believe it. Knowing Steve I really thought he was just nervous about the journey he had to take in the morning. That was until he said he needed to talk with me. 

“What is it, punk? You too nervous?” I chuckled until I saw the serious face he held. 

“I need a favor from you, Buck, and you might not like it.” 

“You’re scaring me, Steve. What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help but think that this had to do with why he was avoiding (Y/N). 

“When I go back today, I’m not coming back in 5 seconds.” 

“What are you talking about, Steve?” 

“I’m going to stay back and have a life with Peggy. This is my last chance to be with her and I’m taking it,” he ran his hands through his face. He knew what he was asking of me and he knew it wasn’t fair. “I need you to tell (Y/N) for me once I’m gone. She’s gonna need someone to lean on and I need it to be you.” 

“You can’t do that, Rogers. It’s not fair to me and it’s definitely not fair to her. (Y/N) loves you with her whole being. This is going to crush her.” He had been ignoring her out of guilt and he was leaving all these feelings behind in a couple of hours, leaving me to deal with the aftermath. “You know, she’s been beating herself over you avoiding her and I thought it was just nerves. But this is a new low; the Steve I know would never do this.” 

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I just think it’ll go over quicker if it comes from you.” 

“What you’re doing is cleaning your hands of a mess you’re making.” The anger was boiling inside of me by now. (Y/N) did not deserve this ending, she did not deserve to have her heart broken in such a cowardly way. 

“Please, Bucky. I don’t think I could tell her face to face.” He took a paper out of his back pocket. “I wrote her this letter, hopefully, it’ll help things to smooth over. Please, Buck, please. You have to believe me when I tell you the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

I snatched the letter from his hands and guarded it in my jacket pocket. “I’ll do it only because I owe you my life and she’ll need someone once I break her heart for you. But, I get it.” 

“Thanks, bud. I know that for now, it must seem like a horrible thing to do but hopefully in time you’ll see my point of view.” I accepted the hug he offered. Although my head was telling me to be loyal to Steve, my heart was breaking at the thought of breaking (Y/N)’s. 

Before I knew it, Sam, Bruce, (Y/N), Steve, and I were standing in front of the machine that would be the catalyst of inevitable heartbreak. 

3rd person’s POV

“Well, this is it,” Steve whispered. They were standing to the right as Banner made sure everything was ready for Steve’s trip. 

“You know, it’s not too late to back out,” (Y/N)’s hands traveled to his chest. “We can have someone else go.” 

“It has to be me, (Y/N). But I’ll be back before you know it, doll.” His head lowered and left a deep kiss on her lips. They lingered for longer than usual, and she couldn’t help but imagine that there was an underlying message to it. “You know I love you, right? And I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, right?”

“Of course, Steve. I love you, too.” (Y/N) smiled and kissed him once more, allowing him to engulf her in a tight hug. “Be careful, okay? I can’t lose you too.” 

“I will,” he smiled. “Now, I’ve gotta go.”

“I know, be safe.” She smiled once more as she watched Steve get on the machine. She made her way over to Bucky, his arm circling her shoulders. “It’s just 5 seconds, right?” 

“Yup,” he smiled, ignoring the burning sensation coming from the paper inside his jacket. “Just five seconds.”

“Ready, Cap?” asked Bruce from behind the control panel. Steve nodded, one hand on Mjolnir and another on the case that held the Infinity Stones. “Alright, we’ll meet you back here, okay?” 

“You bet,” he responded. Two of the people present knew that it was a lie, but no one else had picked up on it yet. His head was encircled by the helmet and he stared at the two people that meant the most to him in this lifetime. Hurting them was the hardest thing he had to do, but he had been living for everyone else for too long. He decided that it was time to do something for himself. 

“Going quantum in 3, 2, 1,” Bruce announced. A breath hitched in (Y/N)’s throat as the time went down, all she had to do was brace herself for five seconds. Banner hit the button and (Y/N) had to blink various times to fully grasp the disappearance of the man she loved. He had vanished as quick as a thought, one second there and the next just a memory. “And returning in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1....”

Nothing. Bruce clicked the button and nothing happened. The body of Captain America was nowhere in sight. 

“Bruce, what the hell is going on?” (Y/N) spoke up, but she wasn’t sure if her voice was heard. Her mind raced a million miles an hour and she could feel her legs giving out. Had it not been for Bucky’s left arm, she would have crashed to the floor. Bruce stammered with his words, not knowing what to say. “Bucky, where is he, Bucky? Where’s Steve?” 

Bucky knew it would hurt to see her cry, but this was shattering his heart. Her body was falling limp in his arms and the tears were streaming out of her eyes faster than he could dry them. Her words were slurred but he understood the gist of it. She was hurt; she was betrayed; she was beyond heartbroken. 

“Come on, let’s sit down.” Bucky led her to the tent that was propped up behind them. “There’s something you should know.” 

“What is it, Buck?” She sobbed. 

“Please don’t hate me, but Steve is not coming back.” The girl looked up at her friend, not know what emotion she was feeling in the moment. Her tears stopped momentarily, needing to hear the words that would spill from Bucky’s mouth. “Steve decided to go back in time and have a life with Peggy. He needed you to know that he didn’t want to hurt you. He also left you this note.” 

Her shaky hands extended to take hold of the piece of paper Bucky handed her. She dried away the tears that were clouding her eyes and began reading. 

My dearest doll,

 If you are reading this letter, you know I am not coming back. I decided to take hold of the chance to have the life I would’ve had if I stayed in the 40s. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling in this moment, and I’m sorry for all the hurt I know I’m causing you. I need you to know that I never knew I could love someone after Peggy and I’m thankful for all the years we had together. I was in love with you and I still am, but I could not continue on knowing I have a chance to answer one of my biggest ‘what if’s. I could not go on in our life with the weight of my past on our shoulders, you deserve better than that. I hope you can pardon how big of a coward I am being in the moment, I knew I couldn’t do this face-to-face and you deserve at least a worded explanation of why I left. You are strong, amazing, beautiful, and deserving of all the love in the world; I’m sorry I couldn’t provide it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on and be happy, even if it’s not with me. I also hope you don’t hate Bucky for being the bearer of bad news, he didn’t know until today and I gave him no other choice thant to tell you. If there’s someone that can understand what you are feeling right now, it is him.

I hope one day you will forgive me for this,

I love you until the end of the line.

Steve

She folded the paper back up and broke down once again. Bucky engulfed her in a hug and held her as she shook. “He’s gone, Buck. He went back to be with Peggy. I wasn’t enough for him.” 

“Oh, doll, I’m so sorry.” 

“Guys, we’ve got to head back,” Sam peeked his head through the tent, heartbroken by the view in front of him. “I’ve got her, Buck. Go get the truck started.” 

Bucky released (Y/N) into the arms of Sam Wilson, and left to start the car to head back to the tower. Sam ran his hands over the sobbing girl’s hair trying his best to soothe her. Even though he didn’t fully understand the situation she was in, he got the jist of it. After everything was packed back up, (Y/N) had fallen asleep in Sam’s arms, so he picked her up and laid her on his lap to not wake her. She would be needing all the rest she could get. 

“You guys good back there?” Bucky asked.  

“Yeah, she’s out like a light,” Sam whispered. 

“Good, she’s gonna need all the energy she can get to recover.”

“What happened?” 

“Steve decided to stay back and be with Peggy; left me to tell her the news.” Busky gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were pale white, his anger building up inside him. 

“Wow, I never expected that from the Cap. I don’t think it’ll be easy for her to move on from this.” He looked down at the sleeping figure in his lap, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out in her slumber. “She might be physically strong, but she’s very sensitive and rarely gets attached.”

“I still don’t understand why he chose to do it this way. The little punk.”

The duo waited until Banner was inside the truck before leaving the spot they were in and back home. Unbeknownst to them, behind the trees, a figure stared at the scene in front of him with a broken heart.

                                                           ***

It had been almost three weeks of robotic movements from (Y/N). She would wake up, sometimes eat, sit in front of a window and stare down the New York skyline; other times she would lay in bed wearing one of Steve’s shirts and sprayed the room with his cologne as she sobbed into his pillow. There were the nights that she drowned her sorrows in a bottle of whatever liquor she could find, until the other members started hiding the bottles. But that didn’t stop her from stashing a couple of bottles in her closet. Nighttime was always the hardest. (Y/N) had grown used to falling asleep in Steve’s arms and being engulfed in his warmth. Now, she thrashed around in a bed that was too big, too cold, and too uncomfortable.

The rest of the team had tried their best to lift her spirits, but nothing seemed to work too well. Sam tried his best to make her favorite meals, which she gave thanks for but rarely ate, pushing the food around in the plate; Bucky tried to entice some emotion by asking her to join him in clearing his list of movies to watch to catch up on the times, but she would zone out for most of the movie; Bruce would ask her to join him in his afternoon reading sessions, but every time she picked up a book she re-read the same page over and over not retaining a single word; Wanda would try her best to get her to partake in normal hygiene practices, which the girl had held off on for a couple of days, only getting her to shower every other day.

(Y/N) was a walking zombie, doing the bare minimum to survive.

But today she had woken up differently, her heart hurting a little less than the other days. She got into the shower, brushed her teeth, and even got dressed in her own clothes. It was three in the afternoon, but she was up. She was detangling her hair when her bedroom door opened.

“You’re awake?” Bucky said, startled to see a clean and awake (Y/N) in front of him. “Don’t mean to sound so surprised, but I came in here with the intention to startle you awake once again.”

The girl chuckled and continued her brushing. “Thought it was time to do something by myself.”

“Here, let me.” Bucky took the brush from her hands and started brushing through her damp hair. It finally smelled of her normal shampoo and conditioner, and not a mix of her hair oils and Steve’s cologne. The smell of strawberries and vanilla emanated from her head and Bucky couldn’t help but breathe in deep. His left hand ran the hairbrush through her hair as his right hand smoothed it down. (Y/N) leaned into his touch and smiled at the comforting strokes he was providing. Unknowingly, Bucky started humming a lullaby under his breath.

“What are you humming?”

“It’s a Russian lullaby I overheard one night while under HYDRAs hold. There’s not much I like to remember from those times, but this I don’t mind.”

“I like it,” she rocked to the movements of his hands and smiled as she listened intently to his humming. She couldn’t see him, but the veteran was smiling at her. It had been the first time she had shown any kind of emotion in the time that had elapsed. He finished her hair in a sloppy braid, not fully understanding the mechanics of the three-strand braid. “Thank you, Buck.”

“How’re you feeling today, (Y/N)?” He finally asked.

“I’m feeling better, don’t know how long it will take to get me to 100% but I’m feeling like a 45% today.”

“That’s good to hear, you know. It’s better than where we started.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leaned into him, enjoying the warmth his body emanated. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Have not gotten up to that point.”

“Well, Sam’s already cooking up something in the kitchen and I’m on the second movie of The Lord of the Rings, so we can watch that one.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” She smiled at the man that was next to her as they exited her room.

The rest of the team had gathered in the kitchen, working on ways to cheer (Y/N) up when they saw her emerge from the hallway with a small smile on her face. Everyone’s jaw fell open when they saw the girl looking partly human and with a spark of energy. It had been a while since she had resembled the (Y/N) they knew and loved.

“Guys, please pick up your mouths off the floor, your eyes do not deceive you.” (Y/N) joked.

“Glad to see you’re alive, (Y/N),” Sam spoke. “Come have some food.” 

She smiled at her friend and sat next to Wanda as Sam placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her. Bucky served himself and her a cup of coffee and added the cream and sugar she enjoyed with her drink. She happily munched on the food as the people around her stared in astonishment.

Thankfully, the staring didn’t last long. Wanda and Sam had a quick recon mission and Bruce had some work to finish in the lab, leaving Bucky and (Y/N) to enjoy The Two Towers in peace. Bucky had the curtains drawn and the movie all set up as (Y/N) took out blankets and made a hole between all the pillows that adorned the couch. The duo settled into their spot and bundled themselves in the blankets, settling in for the 226 minutes of the extended version of the movie.

She wasn’t sure at what point in the movie she fell asleep, but she was woken up by Bucky softly shaking her awake. She mumbled something she didn’t even understand, so Bucky decided to carry her to her bed. (Y/N) had burned too much energy by being around too many people too fast. It didn’t seem like a lot but being around the whole team had taken a toll on her. The sun had started to set and so were the last slivers of happiness she had felt.

Bucky set her down on her bed, tucking the blankets around her. He turned to leave when a small hand wrapped around his right wrist. He looked down and saw a teary-eyed (Y/N) looking up at him.

“Stay, please.” Her voice was barely a whisper and it trembled slightly. She was the vision of the heartbreaking scene that had hurt him three weeks ago.

He smiled softly at the girl and went around the bed to climb in. “Today was hard, huh?”

“Yeah, I thought I was ready to go back to normal, but it took too much out of me. I feel so useless.”

“You are far from useless, doll. You’re hurting, darling, we all understand.” He pulled her in close and laid her head on his chest, the thin layer becoming wet with her tears. “It’ll get better someday, that’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because we all do, after a while we all get better.”

“I wish we knew how long a while was. Everything would be easier.” 

“I know, doll, but let’s take it all one day at a time. Just remember you’re not alone. You have me – and the rest of the team.” He cleared his throat trying to disguise the importance she held in his life. Bucky would have never said anything, but he had fallen for the girl. He held her already in high regard for the care she had given to his best friend, but his feelings had started to shift when she started caring for him while they were on the run.

“Thank you, Buck. I don’t know where I would be without you.” She laid a kiss on his chest and drifted to sleep with Bucky’s arm rubbing circles on her back.

One more week had gone by and (Y/N) had grown used to having Bucky sleep with her at night. He had helped her pack away all the things Steve had left in the room – specifically the cologne that still hunted her, – he started waking her up earlier and making sure she got at least two full meals a days before she went to bed, and he made sure that she didn’t spend her nights crying for a man he called his best friend.

All of Bucky’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed. The remaining Avengers had noticed how the ex-assassin cared for the broken girl, going further than the rest of them did. And his feelings for the girl did not fly by the mind-reading witch that currently stared at him preparing lunch for (Y/N).

“When will you tell her how you feel?” The redhead spoke, casually sipping on a cup of coffee.

“What do you mean, Wanda?” 

“What she means is that you’ve been in love with that girl for far too long and it’s time you confess already,” Sam jeered. “Nothing’s stopping you now.”

“Except for the fact that she’s still reeling from my best friend breaking her heart by going back in time and leaving her to be with someone else. I’m sure she’ll be jumping with joy if I confess right now,” he mocked. “Anyways, how did you know?” 

“You’re not very secretive about it,’’ Sam laughed. “You’re always in a sour mood but magically when you’re with her you become someone else. The White Wolf become (Y/N)’s puppy real quick!’’

“I am not that obvious with it.”

“Okay, lil’ pup.”

“Whatever. Anyways, it’s not the right time for that.”

“When will it be the right time then, Bucky?” Wanda inquired.

“I don’t know. But it’s not right now.”  He plated what he was cooking and headed to (Y/N)’s room. The last thing she needed at the moment was a new relationship, even if that’s all Bucky wanted. 

[turtle-go-brrrr]

Scratch my shell, I scratch yours

A/N: Heya! So remember two posts ago where I said I wouldn't write fics because I'm not confident enough in my writing to post it? Yeah, me neither. I started writing this at 6 am because I couldn't sleep and kept working on it during the day, so enjoy ^^(I got a little tired at the end, and i think you can feel it ;w; hope it’s good enough anyway!)

Also, I’m a sucker for platonic intimacy, and there is a severe lack of platonic x reader in this fandom

Fun fact: the Shell is both the Dorsal (part on the back) AND the Plastron (part on the front).

Requested: No

Pairing: None, platonic

Word count: 2500 +

Triggers: None

Summary: You make an embarrassing suggestion that they surprisingly accept.

_____________________________________________________________

The idea came to you in a random conversation you had as you sat on their couch.

"But wait, you can really reach everywhere? Like if I touch here-", you point to a crevice in the middle of his shell. "You're telling me you can bend your arm enough to get here?"

Leonardo gently takes your wrist and pull your hand away. "I mean, we have some of those telescopic scrubs to help, you know? Or we can just ask each other to get to the hard places if it's really complicated."

Oh.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You have been asking a few questions about their shells after Raphael started showing off some of his scars, fascinated by the intricate patterns you could see on your friends. The topic of cleaning has be brought up, and as your curiosity took charge, your brain decided to embarrass you as much as it could.

"Do you think I could help?"

Only the faint background music Mikey had set up earlier could be heard as your mutant friends looked at you, eyes wide open.

Oh, that came out wrong.

"Wait, that's not what I-", you start to explain your line of thoughts when you get interrupted by the smug look Mikey sent you, as he harbored a teasing smile.

"Oh? I didn't realize that's what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out more," he wiggles his eyebrows as your nervous laughter fills the room.

"Hold on, I can explain."

Silence again.

"Oh, you're actually listening?"

"I mean, I think we're all dying to know why on earth you'd want to take a shower with us. You're not usually this upfront with your affection," Donatello chimes in. He's not even looking at you in the eyes, but doesn't really try to hide that stupid smirk.

Bastard.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on not letting the embarassement take over, but your voice shakes imperceptibly, and you can feel youself start to sweat. Great.

"Okay, so I was thinking : you guys always do so much for the city and never get anything in return. I remember Mikey told me that you guys love shell scratches, and now I can see that you have some trouble cleaning it, so maybe I can help with that ? Kinda like a massage sort of thing, it doesn’t have to be weird if no one makes it. Now obviously we’ll be wearing swimsuits, we’re not close enough for… you know… actually taking a shower together, " you try clearing your throat discretly. You hear a muffled laugh from Raph.

"Anyway, I think Casey knows where to buy the best animal care product. I think human stuff might not be suitable for your shells, and I read somewhere that water was the best way to clean a turtle shell anyways, but if you have suggestions just let me know what you usually use. Do you even have swimsuits ? Doesn’t matter, I’m sure we can find you some-"

As you rambled on, the slight shame started to wear off and you were able to explain your line of thoughts more clearly. The awkwardness of the situation seemed to settle down, even if your friends were absolutely going to tease you about it later. Leonardo seemed hesitant, though.

"I don’t know, man. Are you sure about this ? I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can take care of ourselves, you know."

"I’m not gonna force you if you don’t want to, I’m just offering because I want to do something nice for you guys. You can’t really take a break, but you could at least relax a bit."

"I’m up for it." You didn’t expect Raph to agree so quickly, but maybe you should have anticipatd that as you look at the bags under his eyes. "I mean, the worst thing that could happen is falling asleep while getting a massage from a friend. Kinda sounds like a dream if you ask me. "

‘Well that was easy,’ you think as your face lightens up.

"Besides, we can laugh at them for wanting to shower with us. Didn’t think you’d want to be so intimate, " he purrs as he gives you a side glance.

Oh. Bastard number two.

"Alright. Sure. You know what, fair game, " you laugh it off. Mikey puts a reassuring arm around your shoulders as Donnie places his legs on your laps.

"We do have swimwear, so you don’t need to worry about that. And you were right about using only water to clean it, as human products tends to make us itchy afterwards. There are some types of oil we use sometimes to nourish our shells, however. I think the only thing we might need to look into is new brushes. The ones we have are, hum, barely hanging on."

You send a quick text to Casey and April to let them know about the plan after making a short list of supplies with Leo, who ended up agreeing.

It didn’t take that much convincing.

____________________________

Saturday came fast. After getting all the necessary supplies with Casey, you both made your wait to the lair to join April. They had both agreed to help you in your task, because 'damn, they really need some appreciation'.

"When do you think they'll be back?" You ask Splinter as he offers you a cup of spiced tea.

"Usually around one in the morning, unless they were delayed."

Unless something went wrong.

But those dark thought quickly faded away as you heard the faint echo of Mikey's laughter as he recalled their night. Light chatter filled the room as they took off their gear and put away their weapons, and April hushed them to get changed and take a quick shower so they could get started and finally have some sort of a break.

You could see they were excited as they each went their own way, waiting for their turn to the shower.

When you live in the sewers and try to turn it into a living space, you have to do what you can with what you have. And sometimes, what you have is a large space that you can turn into a huge bathroom, with multiple showers and a large bathtub; but what you don't have is privacy. So big communal bathroom it is.

In this specific case, it's a good thing, because it means you can all chill together as you get to work on their shells. Once everyone was settled in, April motioned them to sit on some of the chairs you put up. She opens the bag Casey and you brought and starts getting the multiple brushes and bottle out.

"You have to understand that you guys are, uh, gigantic. So try to stay at our level, okay? And stay put, please. Anyway, here is what we've got for you: there are multiple brushes - one of each type for each of you - and some are harder than the others. Don't worry, we'll try not to scrub your shell off of you," she winks at that, and holds back a laugh at Raph's worried expression.

She continues. "We also found the oil Donnie told us about, and we bought multiple bottles. You'll have a stack for next time." She then gets one last bottle out that she puts aside.

"That one is for Splinter. To make his fur all soft and shiny," you butt in with an innocent smile. The old man deserves a treat too.

Casey laughs at that and says, "So, there's tree of us and four of you. Who is okay waiting for his turn?"

Silence.

After a solid minute, Leonardo sighs and volunteers to let his brothers enjoy a well deserved spoiling session. Mikey, instead of sitting on a chair like a normal person, choose instead to lay down on the bathroom floor.

"You said it was basically a massage, right? Now it really feels like it!"

"Oh, good idea. I'm this close to getting a pillow and having the nap of my life," Donnie says, putting his fingers together.

"Your fingers are touching."

"I know," he gives you a side smile as he starts to get up, but you quickly bring him back to reality. "But there's gonna be water everywhere?" You sit down next to where he just was and watch as he goes back to where he sat, sending you a disapproving side glance.

"Let a turtle dream, will you?" He lays down on his stomach, puts his head on his arms, and scouts closer to you.

You watch Raph get settled on a chair next to Casey, putting his arms on the backrest as April hands you one of the harder brushes. Leo makes a quick trip to the kitchen and brings back some water, a few snacks, and a copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne.

"Again," you start. "There's gonna be water everywhere. Are you sure bringing a book here is a good idea?"

He gives you a sly smile. "Gotta live up to my name."

What?

"What?"

"You know," Mikey interrupts. "Fearless."

"Oh. Right. Well, don't come crying when you drop it into a puddle then." But you offer him a plastic bag anyway, to hold his book with it in case he wets his hands.

"You sure you're okay waiting?" Casey asks him as he starts pouring water over Raph's back.

"Yeah, don't worry. I have things to keep me busy anyway."

______________________________

It took one swipe of the brush from April for Mikey to start... what was the word? Churring.

A low rumble coming from his throat that had kind of the same function as a cat's purr, Donnie explained. It was an expression of contentment or happiness, that sometimes even happended when they needed reassurance.

Adorable.

"I can't believe you guys can purr and never told me." Raph doesn't even bother opening his eyes when he answers you, "We knew you'd take advantage of that. Didn't want to be babied by the tiniest human we ever met."

Asshole.

You went back and forth with the gruff turtle, always in good spirit though. Conversations flowed, laughter were exchanged, and everyone managed to lighten up. Master Splinter joined the group at some point, and was just glad to spend some time with his family - all of it. He also started to take cared of Leo’s dorsal, to his delight.

You don't exactly know when, but some time after Donnie started to let go some soft churrs as you scrubbed the dirt off of his shell, you stopped listening to the current topic and started to really focus on your task.

Scrapping the dirt hidden in between every crevice, rubbing the largest scales, you were surprised by the look of the bare shell of your nerdy friend. You never really stopped to observe this particular feature the four brothers harbored, not only out of decency, but also because it was always covered. Gear and clothes, backpack and tech, dirt and blood, there was always something hiding the intricate patterns of their shells.

You unconsciously slowed down to really take in what you were seeing, your fascination and curiosity taking over your wish to help.

"I don't know why, but I never expected your shell to be so colorful," you say after wiping away the dirty water from the left side of his back. You didn’t mean to say it at loud, but he doesn't answer you. However, you do get something from Mikey.

"Man, you should see mine! Don helped me create an organic paint so I can paint my shell without hurting myself with a bunch of chemicals, and it looks sooo damn good-"

"Shh!"

"... Did they- Did you just shush me?"

"Shhh!" You whisper yell this time. You then give a side glance toward the sleeping turtle under you.

"Annw. Good luck waking him up."

"Yeah, I'm... not doing that. He needs his sleep," you laugh quietly.

______________________________

It took the three of you around an hour to deep clean their shells. Even Raph was finally letting go and softly churring at the end. Mikey was loud enough to have trouble speaking, and Donnie was still asleep. Splinter was still working meticulously on his son, who, he could tell, had a hard time holding back the content churrs that threatened to spill out.

You get up and strech, feeling your joints crack and already anticipating how sore you’ll be tomorrow. The muscles in your arms were burning, and you couldn’t feel your butt anymore, but it was worth it. You’ve never seen the four mutants so relaxed before.

Remembering the oils, you went toward the towels to dry your friend’s back and give the final touch to, what you’d grow to refer to, your work of art. You gave a few head scratches to Raph, who was dozing off with a lazy smile, and went back to Donatello. You slowly dried his dorsal when you felt him shift under your hands.

"Hey buddy," you speak softly. He whispers a ‘hey’ you can barrely hear.

"I’m almost done. I just have to put the oil, then you can let it dry and go to sleep, okay ? " You open the bottle and get a paintbrush, with which you start coating his shell with a thin layer of oil. You can hear his soft churrs start again.

Casey accidentally dropped the bottle of oil on Raph’s back and was desperatly trying to gather as much as he could. "Shi- Fuck, wait-"

"Here, give me some. Thanks to you, I don’t have to open mine, " April said with a smirk. She helped him clean up before going back to Mikey, who raised himself on his forearms and watched the scene unfold with a tired smile.

It took only around twenty minute to put the oil on their shells and get it almost dried up. Once it was done, you helped Splinter and Casey clean up as April let her dizzy friends hold onto her, guiding them on their way to their room. Once it was all done, you waved Leo good night as Raph ruffled your hair and went to sleep. Mikey gave you a big hug and thanked you for the ‘bonker idea’ and made you promise to do it again soon, which you agreed on.

April was already sleeping in the big armchair next to the couch, Casey in a sort of little nest of blankets and pillows at her feet. As you made your way to the couch – your makeshift bed for the night – Donnie was passed out cold on it already. And, boy, does he takes up a lot of space.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Splinter standing next to you. "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you borrowing his bed for the night. "

"I– are you sure ? "

"He stole yours. He’ll live. " A gentle smile tugged at his lips as he guided you to your friend’s room, offering you a spare blanket and pillow. "Have a good night, Y/N. You know where to find me if you need anything."

”Thank you, Master Splinter.” You can feel your eyelid close on their own, and decide to finally call it a night. You got settled as best you could in the bed, and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

A warm breakfast would await you in the morning.

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {4}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2429

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

October 1940, The Autumn Court

Major Cassian Nazari was bored.

Nesta could sense it from where she was, back turned to him at the other end of the tent. It had also been a sign when she came in that morning and he was complaining, loudly, to Madja. I don’t see why I can’t get up and walk around. I’m fine. And bored shitless.

Madja, of course, had told him, Very well, Major. Do as you wish.

Cassian had taken two steps before a wave of nausea hit him from the pain, and he was throwing up his breakfast. After a dose of pain medicine, he had fallen asleep.

Now, he was awake, his pains were dulled, and he was loud.

Loud, and having a one-sided conversation with the unconscious soldier next to him about his favorite brands of whiskey.

He was just getting to the pros of living near a distillery, back in Velaris, when Nesta approached his cot. He glanced over to her and gave him a smile. A sleepy, drug-induced smile. “Nurse Nesta.”

“Major,” she replied, sitting next to his bed. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Feeling great. Ready to get back out there.”

“Really now?” She asked, feeling his head for fever. He’d been warm after getting sick and she wanted to check and be sure they hadn’t missed some sign of infection setting in. His skin was cool as could be now. “So this morning was just a reaction to the breakfast porridge?”

He got quiet immediately and rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” She helped him sit up and checked the wounds on his back. They weren’t healing like she would have liked, but it was also likely he could have used stitches over a few of them. His burns were healing nicely though, even though she knew they still caused him quite a lot of pain. The broken arm and shoulder were the same.

Now that his shoulder was set correctly, it was all about keeping him still, which seemed to be a continual problem for him.

“I can’t sit here forever,” he claimed. “I’ll go insane.”

“You need something to occupy your mind,” Nesta said. “I’ll bring you some books.”

Cassian snorted. “Your romances? I’ll pass.”

Nesta huffed and shook her head. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult a man you are?”

“On many occasions,” Cassian noted. “Mostly women.”

Nesta sighed and helped him fall back against his pillows. “I’ll be back.”

“Good,” he muttered with a yawn as she walked away. After telling her fellow nurses she’ll be back in a moment, Nesta exited the tent and walked to the one just across the way from it, where the nurses slept. She strode to her tent in the far corner and grabbed an old western romance that he would surely read if bored enough, then pulled a suitcase from underneath her cot and popped it open.

The old, folded-up wooden chess board that sat inside had once belonged to her father. They used to play often, before the death of Nesta’s mother.

All the pieces were slightly dusty, but still in good shape. She picked up one of the ivory pawns, wiping it off with the apron tied around her waist, careful not to get any blood or antiseptic lotion on it. Without the dust coating it, the piece shined and she replaced it in its home before cleaning off each piece. She closed the suitcase, carrying it, the book, and a small, foldable tray back across the camp, and into the med tent.

As soon as Cassian saw her, he zeroed in on the case. “What’s that?”

“First,” she said, sitting down and holding the book out for him. “I brought you this.”

His face twisted with a twinge of pain as he reached out and took it, opening it and flipping through it. He paused on a random page and read a few lines. His eyes widened. “This is…explicit.”

Nesta’s cheeks reddened.

“It’s a romance,” he groaned.

“It’s an old western,” she defended. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a very good book.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian sat it on the side table, but pointed at the suitcase, which she had set down to unfold the tray. “And what’s that?” He repeated.

Nesta set it on the end of his cot and opened it. “Until I’m needed, we’ll play chess.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before repeating, “Chess?”

She lifted a brow as she set up the board, on top of the tray. “You’re complaining about the forms of entertainment I offer?”

Cassian hesitated, and Nesta secretly liked that hesitation. For once, a comment made by her actually made him think. Usually, he was so quick on his feet. She liked it when he wasn’t.

“Fine,” he said, at last, clearing his throat. “But, it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You may have to refresh my memory.”

She suppressed her smile, moving the tray just next to his bed, so it would be within his reach. “I can do that.”

He nodded, grunting as he got himself into a sitting position. Nesta made a move toward him, but he held up a hand, letting him know he could do it on his own.

Even if it was just barely.

She laid out the pieces, almost reverently, but quickly and efficiently. She didn’t have to think about where the pieces went and before he knew it, the board was set in front of them. The white pieces sat on his side of the board, the black on her own. She gestured for him to make a move.

He reached for one of the pieces in the front, but then pulled his hand back. Twice, he repeated the movement, before clearing his throat and saying, “Ladies first.”

“That’s not how chess works, Major,” she chuckled. “White goes first, black second.”

He nodded and stared back down at the board. “Right.”

Picking up one of the pawns, Cassian moved it diagonally, as if it were a checker.

Nesta blinked, waiting for him to move it back or chuckle as if he were playing a joke. “That’s not how you move a pawn forward.”

His cheeks heated and she knew he was embarrassed. “Well not all of us grew up as well off as you were.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta was unable to stop the surprised chuckle from bubbling from her lips. “Excuse you, sir?”

“I’m just saying, only spoiled, rich girls grew up playing chess.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry at his words. “You don’t know how to play chess, do you?”

“I told you I would need your help.” He wasn’t looking at her, just the board and pieces.

“When’s the last time you played chess?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Never.”

Nesta stared at him for a moment, waiting for an explanation. “Never?”

Cassian’s head fell back and he groaned. “Nurse, are you going to make me ask you to explain the rules to me or do I have to make a fool of myself any longer?”

Nesta pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Very well.”

She went on to explain the rules to him, then just to make sure she was not setting him up for failure, she explained the rules to him, again.

The pawn can move one square, unless it is the first time they move, then they can move two. It can’t move backwards. They can capture pieces on either space, diagonally, in front of them.

The knight moves in an L shape. Don’t ask why.

Bishop is a bit of a roamer. It can move in diagonally, as many squares as it wishes.

The rook can move both horizontally and vertically, as many squares as it wishes, as well.

The Queen is basically the best, most important piece. She can move however she wishes, wherever she wishes.

Cassian stared at the board thoughtfully. “Hmm. And the king, again?”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “He can move only one square in any direction.”

“And he decides who wins the game?” Cassian asked, head cocked to the side as he stared at the board, trying to imagine it all.

“More or less, yes,” Nesta said, watching him study the board. “When a player attacks the other’s king, it’s called a check. A checkmate, or the win, is what happens when the opposing king can no longer make any legal moves.”

“So you must protect the king at all costs, then?” Cassian asked. “That’s the purpose of the other pieces?”

“It is,” Nesta nodded.

“And that’s why the queen is such an important piece?” he continued, meeting her gaze. “Why she has the most freedom? To protect her king?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Speaking like that, I cannot believe that you don’t admire a good romance novel.”

“I already told you, I don’t think women are meant to stay home and do nothing but become mothers,” he replied, reaching out and moving his own piece properly this time. “However, a boring book about two people falling in love? No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Falling in love isn’t boring,” she defended, moving her own piece.

He grunted in answer, making his move.

Nesta looked at him, gauging his non-reply. “Have you ever been in love, Major?”

“Now who’s asking the personal questions,” he muttered, waiting for her to take her turn. She did, silently waiting for him to answer. He picked up the piece, studying the board, though barely anything had been done to need strategy yet. “No. I haven’t.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before looking back down at the board. “Interesting.”

Cassian moved his piece at last. “Don’t worry, plenty of women have been in love with me, I just haven’t returned the feeling.”

Nesta couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Of course you would think so.”

Cassian’s grin told her it was all just a joke, but Nesta had no doubt that Cassian had had his fair share of women throughout the years.

“What about you?” He asked. “I know about your ex, of course, but have you ever been in love?”

It was Nesta’s turn to be quiet, but she pretended to be thinking over a move. “Yes,” she finally admitted, moving one of her knights, which had finally been unblocked by her pawns. “At least, I think so, at least. Things with Tom were…complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing,” he replied, mirroring her own move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, finally catching on to how he’d been playing. She said nothing about the game though, and continued on. “There’s a reason we aren’t together anymore, if you recall.”

Nesta moved another piece and he asked, “Would you go back to him? If you found out he’d been waiting for you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, still staring at the board, if only to keep from having to look at him. “His family was much better off than mine, which was the reason for our engagement anyways. I came here to keep my sisters from having to do so.”

“That doesn’t sound like love,” Cassian murmured, taking his turn.

“And what makes you such an expert on the subject?” Nesta snapped.

Cassian slowly met her eyes once he set down his knight. He didn’t look offended by her tone. Instead, he remained quiet for a moment, then said, “I may not waste my time reading romance novels, and I may have never been in love, nurse, but I have plenty of experience in what love is not.”

She couldn’t place it, but she didn’t like why his voice became so…sad when he said it. “I didn’t mean to react in such a way,” she replied, not even paying attention to the moves she was making at this point. “I’m just not…accustomed to talking to anyone about these sorts of things. Especially a patient.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

Nesta nodded and broke his gaze as her eyes settled back on the board. After a moment, she moved her queen and said, “Check.”

Cassian blinked, eyes darting to the board, trying to find how his king was in jeopardy. Once he saw it, he tried to figure a way out of it, but after five minutes of thinking, he knocked his king down in surrender.

Nesta suppressed her smile as she outstretched her hand. “Good game, Major.”

He chuckled and shook her hand. “Nice lie, nurse.”

“Perhaps we can play again tomorrow,” Nesta asked, with a questioning tone.

Cassian met her eyes, and the edge in them softened as he said, quietly, “I would like that.”

She nodded and began putting it away as a few nurses entered the tent with big boxes in their arms. “Looks like we got some care packages from Velaris, gentlemen.”

Cassian’s brows rose, and Nesta chuckled at the excitement that flooded through the tent from those who were awake. In a war, it was the little things that made it all better.

Nesta placed the chessboard beneath Cassian’s cot and rose to help the nurses go through the boxes. With everything they pulled out, there was an announcement.

We’ve got candies!

Homemade breads and jams!

The funnies from the newspapers!

Tea!

Nesta reached into the box and pulled out a big carton and announced, “Cigarettes!”

That one got a round of applause, but nowhere near the number of cheers that the whiskey got. It went on for another few minutes, and then for the first time in quite some time, something that resembled joy could be felt in their little war camp.

As the goodies were dispersed, Nesta’s eyes kept trailing to Cassian.

She was surprised to find his eyes on her as well. Carrying one of the small bottles of the cheap whiskey that had been sent, she found herself standing beside his cot. She set the bottle down on the side table, along with a pack of cigarettes, and said, “Might not be the brand you prefer, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d drink anything right about now, brand doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “If you could possibly get me some of that sweet bread and blackberry jam though, it might make it just a bit easier to go down.”

She shook her head, saying, “You’re unbelievable.” But she knew she would get it for him, she’d make sure of it.

Because his smile was the first thing that made her own appear without being forced in quite a while.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Your quiet days in castle Dimitrescu met their end the moment Cassandra took an interest in you.

You should have known. Perhaps you did know and just didn’t want to admit it.

The woman –vampire, mutant, what even are they— is a bipolar sadist.

One night she may be walking down the halls sending you a sexy wink under her hood as she passes you by, the next she could show up out of nowhere and cut you ‘hello’ with her sickle, scoop up the blood with her thumb to taste, then disappear again. The evening after that, she may not even give a damn about you, may not spare you a single fleeting glance, like even the notion you could be worth her time is laughable.

And it is, isn’t it.

Humans are nothing to them. Your significance is below that of a pet. You may as well be livestock. It doesn’t matter, though, so long as you continue to breathe and remain intact. They’re the two essential factors to escaping. All else is secondary.

It doesn’t matter how Cassandra views you.

You don’t even like her.

What is there to even be drawn to? She’s covered in blood more often than not. The scent of iron usually drowns out her perfume. She’s capricious and cruel and the living personification of an unsheathed knife. You prefer your routes safer. Playful, creative pretty girls that are good for you and most importantly, sane.

Whatever weird tricks your brain and hormones are playing where she stars –you hate it, what is wrong with you— they’re just delusions, you reason, born from her questionable flirting and your time in captivity. It’s just a really bothersome case of Stockholm Syndrome you’re developing. And it has to stop.

Another week passes. You don’t see her.

You are on another night shift when you hear the telltale buzzing of insects down the corridor. Hervoice reaches your ear afterwards;

“Ugh, Bela, you never complain about anything. It’s so annoying.” Two pairs of heels steadily tap towards you.

“I leave it to you and Dani to cover for me, since you complain about everything.” The quieter sister drawls. You can easily picture her roll her eyes as she says it.

“You know, you really should sound more thankful I came with you in this unearthly cold.”

“I gave you the option not to—”

“Just to have you rummage through that bookshop for what was definitely the most boring twenty minutes of my life.” Cassandra continues.

From the fleeting glance you steal at them, the entirety of her attention is on Bela. You don’t think she’ll notice you as you continue polishing the corridor’s decorations. It’s just another one of these nights where you don’t exist and you’re deeply glad for it. Not just for yourself, but also the other maids.

“I thought I was going to die of frostbite.” she growls, shaking the elder sister’s arm.

“Technically, you can’t.” Bela shakes hers back.

It would be… cute, if they were any normal family. But you are quick to remind yourself of what they really are. Devils in human form. Monsters that took you from your home and trapped you here, to clean after their mess, with the threat of death looming over your head every second.

Their steps pass you by. You can almost breathe normally again, when—

Cassandra stops.

“Not even going to tell me hello?” The hurt in her voice can’t be genuine, you tell yourself as you turn around to face her. She’s closer than you thought, enough for you to be able to make out the tiny melting snowflakes caught in her long lashes.

“Um—hello.” you say, awkwardly.

“Cassandra.” Bela lets out a soft sigh.

“Bye, Bela.” The brunette pointedly speaks over her shoulder.

And to your horror… “Just keep in mind what mother said about the maids.” the eldest sister leaves you alone with her.

Each further step until the blonde disappears from view fills you with dread. Cassandra has that spark in her eye that you’ve learned to not associate with anything good. She’s completely still until she’s sure the two of you won’t be overheard or interrupted.

Then, she moves.

Her hands all too easily shove you against the wall. It’s more startling than painful, you realize, when your back doesn’t protest much at the collision.

Cassandra maintains eye contact with you as she tugs at the fingers of her gloves. You cannot fathom why it looks that sexy, the way she pulls them off, whether it is intentional or not.

“Plaything.” she says. Another new nickname for you. Not that you ever expected her to care to know your name. “I’m terribly cold.” she doesn’t seem to be lying, though the soft pout that curves her mouth is surely for effect.

It’s a test and your wellbeing depends on it.

Only, you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Ruling your nerves under control, you decide to start slow. “Shall I light the fireplace in your room, my lady?”

“Maybe I want something more… immediate.” she replies, raising her hand to your neck.

The second her freezing skin touches your flesh, you cannot help but flinch. It feels like a slightly softer block of ice. Cassandra’s eyes creak at the corners. Of course, the sadist is enjoying your torment. Slowly, her fingers move under the collar of your black button-up shirt, which only makes it worse. The cold spreads, a peculiar tingle at your stomach with it.

“Well?” she asks. You get the memo that just sitting back and letting her have her way isn’t going to work, this time. You call upon all the willpower you possess and act.

Carefully, your hands rise to meet her own. You aren’t looking at her in the eyes –you don’t think you could— as your fingers wrap around hers and bring them in front of you, close to your body, warmed from hours of work. Instead, your gaze locks on the golden jewel decorating the chocker at her throat, before falling down, to your point of contact.

It is not the first time you see her hands without gloves on, but it only now hits you just how dainty they look. Her nails, filed round, are dyed a darker shade of crimson, stark against the white of her skin. There isn’t a single blemish or uneven spot you can feel on her palm. It is a princess’ hand you seem to be holding, not a killer’s.

But appearances can be deceiving.

The very corner of Cassandra’s lip curls up, amused or pleased or both. She then reaches forward, at the lowest clasped button of your shirt… and frees it open. You’re sure you aren’t breathing. Two more buttons are released. Her fingers, at least now considerably warmer, splay against your stomach. Something inside you quivers like a flickering candlefire.

You don’t want her touch.

But a traitorous, weak part of you has already decided that it does.

“You work out?” it is merely a whisper between you. She presses a little closer, entirely unashamed to be feeling the contours of your middle up while you’re burning with embarrassment.

“…probably the days of working in the fields.” you say, voice low because it cannot be trusted any higher. She’s doing a little thing with her thumb over your skin that you desperately want to deny turns you on.

Thanks to her you’re now freezing and burning at the same time.

Cassandra just stays like that for a few more seconds.

“Draw me a hot bath.” she eventually orders and extracts herself from you as if she’s not remotely happy with her own decision.

-

-

You don’t really know how she likes her bath and she doesn’t tell you.

All you can do as you test the water on your hand is pray. Your mind isn’t really working right after the touching at the hallway, but your survival instincts are strong still. Strong enough to remind you that Cassandra likes to be treated like royalty above all, so bubbles are your best friend in this. The more, the merrier.

The Dimitrescu daughter does not ask if the bath is ready when she comes in. You aren’t used to her being so silent, so you turn to see if something is wrong –but immediately regret it when the heavy robe clinging to her body drops down. The only glimpse you catch is of the fabric pooling at her feet like a shadow.

Your eyes stay glued on the queen-sized bathtub, even when she approaches. They turn to the side as she enters it.

You want to ask if the water is fine, but you can’t find your voice. You lose even your train of thought when she lets out a small hiss as she sinks in, replaced by a moan once she’s completely settled back, neck tilted and eyes closed in bliss. The polite thing is to let her bathe in peace, so you move to do just that.

Cassandra has other plans.

Her hand shoots out of the tub to wrap around your wrist, inescapable as an iron shackle. Those intense yellowish eyes are on you again and they seem to be glowing under the dim lights.

“No.” she says. “Massage. Now.”

Ah, great. You think. You’ve spoiled her. But if giving Cassandra massages is what is going to keep your hands attached to your body, you won’t complain. It’s just that… you can’t really focus right now. None of your thoughts are right or remotely what they should be. You need time off from her, rather than touching her.

Thankfully, the moans are kept to a minimum and there is no teasing. She is utterly relaxed, only giving the occasional command for higher or lower. It does kind of kill you when at one point she whispers “Right there.” but you are able to move past it.

You leave fresh towels beside her when you’re finally allowed to leave. Back in her bedroom, you light the fireplace in a way that you make sure will last through the day, while she’ll be asleep. The plan is to leave before she returns, but she’s already there by the time you’re finished with the preparations.

And –you’re trapped.

Because, again, she’s changing and you have to look away to preserve your sanity and probably your eyes. “No peeping, now.” she calls over her shoulder. You know better than to dare.

You keep your hands busy arranging bottles and boxes at her vanity until she’s done. Cassandra does that ‘flashing’ thing where she’s on one side of the room one moment and right behind you the next. You only then notice a little insect flying back into her form. It was spying on you.

“You didn’t even look near me, huh.” she says it like ‘congratulations, you passed’, but there’s a bitter undertone of disappointment in her voice.

She’s only feeling down that you didn’t give her an excuse to slice at your face, you think. Then again, does she really need one?

“I wouldn’t, my lady.” you assure. “If I may be excused—”

“Did I say you can go?” she turns you around, none-too-gently, her hands on your biceps tight. You’re effectively pinned against her and the vanity, but you have much bigger problems to worry about, when you take in what she’s wearing.

Cassandra is clad in a flimsy nightrobe that leaves little to the imagination, the fabric nearly see-through. You can see the edges of her lacy underwear underneath it, how nicely it sits against her perfect curves. To make matters even worse, the robe ends at about mid-thigh and your eye catches the expanse of creamy skin on display.

Your brain nearly melts.

“I don’t know what it is about you, plaything, but you’re working up my appetite.” she confesses, pressing into you, pressing you harder into the furniture. You try to think of literally anything else than how well her thigh is slotted between your legs.

If you’re supposed to look away from her lidded eyes, however, you can’t. And if you’re not supposed to feel the echo of her nails on your arm all the way down to your center, you can’t. You are definitely not supposed to be so achingly curious about her bow-shaped lips. But you just can’t.

“You’re working me up.” she breathes, so close you can feel the ghost of her lower lip on yours.

And then –her mouth is on you and you forget how to breathe. Your eyes close and just feel, instead. If this is how you die, maybe it isn’t such a bad way to go. It’s been too long since you kissed anyone, seems like ages ago now, but you gradually remember how to move once you allow your muscles to unlock.

Not looking at her makes it easier. Her lips are balmy and smooth and slide so good on your own you can’t think at all, much less of what she’s capable of. You would have guessed her to be aggressive, but Cassandra is oddly hesitant, the only thing hard about her being her grip.

You’re not sure what you’re doing or how you get so bold, but your hands trail up to her waist and pull her in. The little hitch in her breath threatens to break you. It provides the perfect opening to part her lips with your tongue. As soon as it touches hers, she moans low in her throat and slowly drags her hips against your thigh.

Oh. God.

There’s a hollow ache in your stomach. You’re shamefully wet for her. The voice of reason is mute in your head, until you’re forced to break your liplock to breathe and it only then hits you what you’ve just done.

Cassandra’s lips are insistent on your jawline, on the vulnerable spot under your ear. Her open-mouthed kisses are just hard enough, at first, but then start to border on painful. Your heart skips a beat when you feel the press of teeth, yet she rips herself off of you before she bites down.

“Ugh. I’m… so thirsty.” she says it lightly, but her voice is hoarse and something about her body language gives you the impression she’s hurting. “You should leave. Fast.”

You almost make the mistake of reaching for her. Almost.

Cassandra turns away from the temptation of your veins.

For both your sakes –mostly for yours— you hurry out of her room and never stop to look back.

[bostonbashers]

Hear me out.. How do mercs behave around a person they have a huge crush on?! :D

AAAAAA this one is so cute, i’m in love!! 🤩❤️

-

Scout:

literally a fucking DORK around you. tries to impress you constantly with anything and everything he has, ranging from his skill set to his appearance to his personal belongings and much more.

always finds excuses to spend time with you and it can be the most asanine ones in existence. oh? you have free time tomorrow? let’s go take a run down the street. you miss your puppy that got lost when you were a kid? let’s go to the ends of the earth to find it.

made you borrow his jacket/shirt once because he accidentally spilled a drink all over your shirt. once he saw you in it, he nearly died and didn’t want it back. takes it back anyway due to his pride and though he seems outwardly okay with it, he secretly doesn’t wash the clothing for a long while.

his flirtatious behavior around other people goes down immensely. scout becomes strictly loyal to you once his crush grows stronger and can’t bear the thought of talking with someone else, even if you don’t like him back. it just doesn’t sit with him right.

Soldier:

soldier is much softer and kinder around you. he restrains himself from using any harsh words that could hurt your feelings and tries to slow down on your training.

shows you his pets!! one of his prized possessions that he won’t allow anyone else to touch, like ever. he trusts you to love and take care of them the same way he does.

everyone has to respect you. if they even give you a slight problem, he’ll get on their case about it and probably give them hell before they could even mutter out an apology. you deserve respect and he’s gonna make sure you get nothing less.

lots of supportive comments from him! even if it’s something small, he’ll grin at you proudly and yell out a, “good job, cupcake! you did great!” while giving you a strong pat in the back or an approving nod.

Pyro:

pyro is usually sweet and kind with a certain crowd and tries to do the best they can for others, but with their crush? it’s a whole different story. they’re absolutely head over heels for them.

like a lovesick puppy; they will follow you wherever they go with a skip in their step. like, i mean they’ll follow you everywhere. “no, pyro you can’t follow me to the bathroom-!” they don’t really listen but patiently wait outside anyway.

one of the many mercs who won’t hesitate to show affection and sees nothing wrong in it. runs up to them and holds their hand firmly with a happy hum, hugs them more than usual, and just straight up gives you all their attention.

Demoman:

oh boy, if tavish has a crush on you, he’ll show it when he’s absolutely wasted. demo will literally smother you with affection regardless of where you both are and literally latch onto you every second he gets a chance to.

lots of drunk ramblings; he’ll lay his head on your shoulder or lap while he mindlessly slurs about how amazing you are, what his favorite thing is about you, and so much more.

it’s pretty obvious at that point demo likes you so you admit your liking to him pretty quick and it’s funny how shocked he gets. “ya knew i liked ya?!” yes, demo, they did.

when he’s sober, he’s much more shy with it and controls his actions a lot more. apologizes for his behavior while drunk. tavish exhibits more gentleman behavior, from opening doors to making you a decent dinner and just basically ensuring your comfortability.

Heavy:

heavy is very mature and will accept his feelings pretty quick compared to the others. it’s a 50/50 chance with him; if they feel the same, that’s great! if they don’t, then.. he’d have no choice but to move on. that’s how life works.

once he does accept it, be expecting a lot of mother hen behavior; he literally watches your every move to make sure you’re safe and healthy. even if you are, he goes out of his way to give you things whenever he knows you’re around; a homemade meal, a blanket, probably some candy. your smile is already more than enough to make up for the little things he does for you. 

no one will ever dare to hurt you around heavy (or just in general, really). he senses danger and issues pretty quickly, so it’s easy for him to detect any bad intentions. he’s like that scary bodyguard who looms behind you, glaring at anyone who radiates rancid vibes to scare them away.

Medic:

probably takes a while to accept or realize it cause he’s always so preoccupied in his lab, being busy and all. but once he does realize it, it’s sort of foreign to him at first, so of course, he goes to heavy to speak about his emotions. after being told it was a crush, he pays attention to you a lot more than usual, sometimes even without him noticing.

he gets all giddy when you’re around and although it’s not the jumpy, squealing giddy, it’s certainly one shown through happy greetings and continuous conversations that seem to be never ending. (you don’t mind though)

makes up random appointments and checkups for the smallest things just to see you and gets very, very excited whenever you decide to come to visit him without his knowledge. nearly drops everything just to attend to you.

he talks to archimedes so much about you that his precious pet basically knows who you are based off his owners reactions and automatically flies to you whenever you enter his lab. that bird is a lot smarter than you think. they get along with you pretty well and medic melts whenever he sees you talk to his birds like he does and play with them.

Sniper:

bless his heart, the poor man will literally faint around his crush. just the sight of them flusters him to his core, and don’t even get me started on their little habits and that godforsaken smile. [hes literally almost died when they grinned at him]

he’s already so reserved and quiet as he is, but around them, it’s even worse. he’s always so scared he’s gonna scare them away or say something stupid, but he eventually lets go of the fear and tries to muster up the courage to talk to you.

once he does, he spends a lot of his time with you, often inviting you out to drive around with him or just simply sit outside and enjoy the breeze. he talks a lot more than usual and though he doesn’t completely open up about his past just yet, he does indirectly hint that he trusts you more than anyone in his life.

lots of sleepless nights when he realizes he’s in love. he does everything to take you off his mind but all fails in the end and he’s kept wide awake thinking about what you two could be. from then on, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep his cool around you and silently begs you’ll confess one day or he’ll lose it.

Engineer:

sweetheart mode: activated. like it’s not a big switch up, since he’s naturally a gentleman but it’s noticeable enough. you’ll notice that your nicknames will start slowly forming to more romantic ones and how he blushes with a smile everytime it leaves his lips.

the other mercs can tell when dell has a crush; he blushes a lot more than usual and they catch him smiling more than once by himself. they realize it when you approach him and he automatically fixes himself to look presentable without a second breath. his voice also changes to a much happier and giddy tone, it’s so cute!

stares at you from a distance a lot or whenever you’re distracted with something. half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing so but once he catches himself, he blushes and looks away, silently telling himself to quit it. often you’ll catch him staring at you, but you ignore it for his sake and laugh to yourself when he smiles back and waves shyly.

Spy:

takes a long while before he actually accepts the crush, seeing that he’s a very secretive and reserved person but once he does, you best believe you’ll be spoiled and loved by this man. lots of gentleman behavior!! opening doors, buying you gifts, giving you his coat, and all that fancy stuff.

teases you a lot more than he should; he enjoys your reactions. he’ll lean in close enough where your fingers brush slightly, tilt your chin up when he talks to you and makes intense eye contact while doing so. whenever he gets too close or the moment gets too tense, he backs away with a smirk and pretends as if nothing happens.

he listens to you and anything you have on your mind. his door is literally open for you 24/7 and even if you come knocking at 3 am, he’ll let you in and listen to what you have to say. you think he’s not listening cause he’s very unresponsive but when you’re finished and about to leave, he gives really good advice and tells you quietly that he’s there for you in an indirect way. depending how close he is to you, he’ll let out an experience or two about him to put you at comfort and as thanks for confiding in him. he then walks you back to your room with a simple nod and goodnight.

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

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