#i am installing a swing in my future home

[professionaljester]

going ultimate autism mode (stimming and listening to music)

[lizardtracks]

Old School Heat

I know how much firewood is in a cord.

I lived through both Arab oil embargoes. I was in high school the first time those benevolent wonderful camel f—kers turned down the screws. My parents were those resilient kids from the Great Generation. I saw them swing into action by shrugging their shoulders and installing a wood stove. And—get this—they didn’t buy firewood. Armed with chainsaws, axes, peaveys, wedges and mauls, they went to the family property in the mountains to fell trees, buck logs and split the bolts with their own hands.

Here in the Old Pueblo home heating is not much of a concern; we are on the other end of that spectrum. When I decided to get firewood last winter I just wanted enough for a fire pit. (Our winter evenings beg for time outdoors around a fire.) So I was not planning on getting much. A few wheelbarrow loads? Maybe? But… A friend pointed out that we live in unstable times. Why not, he said, go ahead and get a full cord?

Quite logical, Captain. Besides, with my SO gone, I had no adult supervision last winter. So I ordered up a cord. And since I am made of far less stern stuff than my parents, I ordered it split (mostly) and dried.

When it arrived it was a lot. Like I said, I know how much wood is in a cord. I just didn’t expect a cord. Most firewood companies sell “cords” that are less than the full 128 cubic feet. Sometimes far less. Sometimes their “cord” is a face cord, half of a full cord. The company I chose delivered 120 cubic feet.

Ack! We had an hour to move nearly a full cord. My son and I moved it from the curb with a wheelbarrow and a hand truck. We hastily stacked it, guarding the ends with piles of landscaping blocks. (And I am using the word stack quite loosely.) But it was going to need “done proper.” And that was my most recent project. The photo above is the finished frame. My wood is now off the ground. It is out of the way of a future tortoise den. And it gets plenty of air for when I have green wood delivered.

The winter passed without having to install a wood stove. If that keeps up we have fire pit fuel for a few years.

[blsm-m]

This past month, we celebrated one year since we moved into our historic dream home. Today, I’m so excited to share a lengthy tour of most of the rooms in our home and the decor we’ve been adding. I am embracing a slow renovation for this home. I expect it may take five to 10 years to complete all the renovations I have planned, but for once in my life, I am in no rush. Let’s begin with the exterior. I have always oohed-and-ahhed over this home for as long as I can remember (since high school age when I first got my driver’s license). I have always had feelings about this home, so when we decided to move back to our hometown we wrote a letter to the owners asking if there was any chance they would sell and they did. We feel incredibly lucky and never looked at any other homes. She’s the one! The one hesitation I had about this home was that the interior was heavily renovated in a modern way. I wish it had come with more original character, so we vowed to prioritize adding as much antique charm as possible. Recently, we hosted a home tour with hundreds of local people walking through our home. I was so happy that many people assumed the antique-inspired renovations we have done were original to the home. That remains my biggest goal! Porches – Porches are so romantic to me! I love having my morning coffee on the porch or watching the kids run around with fireflies. It’s the perfect place for popsicles and Halloween decorations alike. Playhouse – We added a playhouse. It’s actually in our front yard (you can see it in the corner of the first pic above). We have a large lot and a ton of trees and our house is very set back from the street (so it is charming and not obtrusive). But I will say, it’s the most I’ve ever enjoyed not having an HOA. I can’t wait to decorate the playhouse for Halloween and Christmas. Landscaping – In this photo, you can see a bit of our front yard. We’ve worked really hard on the yard since owning this home. I’ll have to show you more in the future. Last fall, we added two apple trees, two cherry trees and a fig tree. We are planning to make a few improvements each year until it’s our perfect secret garden space. We added a magnolia tree as I was reading Magic Lessons at the time and I became obsessed trying to incorporate inspiration from the book into my home. Daybed Swing – People always ask us if we really use the hanging daybed and the answer is yes, all the time. My husband likes to sneak out there to watch baseball on his phone and I snuggle the girls there all the time. Our favorite time to lay on the daybed is when it’s raining outside. Sources: Patio Rug, Round Table, Bistro Chairs, Hanging Plant (similar), White Chairs. Entry – From this angle, you can’t see that the other side of the door is a warm pink, but you can see my bat door knocker. And our cute little pug, Pumpkin. Diamond Wood Floors – I’m SO glad we chose the two-tone floors. I will be honest, I was nervous! I LOVE how they turned out. The dark color is the color for our entire home and the light color is used on in this space for the pattern. They were done by a wood floors company at the same time we refinished the floors throughout the home. For the round crystal chandelier, we found it from Pottery Barn. It looks just like an antique (with much simpler install). We ended up using the smaller size in the entry and the larger size at the top of the stairs. Swans – I have started many vintage and antique collections since moving to this home. Swans are a big one. I love how they are both beautiful and creepy. I collect a lot of brass items including candlesticks, butterflies, bells and boxes. Stairs – I spent a very long time choosing the art for the stairwell. What do you think? The portrait is a pastel and I love her so much. The little ting piece above is by Esther Pearl Watson, one of my favorite folk artists. For the runner, I went with this light colored runner because it was the best choice at the carpet store we went to.

In hindsight, I wish I had gone with antique runners and one day if these need to be replaced I probably will. For now, we are loving the light colored runner. Seating – In the front section of our living room, there was a little extra room so we added a checker and chess game table along with antique chairs. Turns out my children LOVE checkers and all my bad karma from being too competitive as a child is coming back to haunt me. The bench is super special to me because it came from my grandmother’s home. I have thought about painting it since it’s lighter than the entry table it sits beside, but so far I have left it alone. What would you do? Living Room Decor – I absolutely love our living room. We use it so much and in so many ways beyond simply watching TV. We went with a frame TV this time and I’m always surprised when people really think it’s a painting. When we first moved in, we did a short round of renovations that primarily included practical fixes and decor. This room got a lot of love. We added a new antique-inspired fireplace, pressed ceiling tiles, dentil moulding and a ton of oil paintings. Sources: Chesterfield Sofa, Pink Velvet Chairs, Rug (similar), Floor Lamp. Fireplace Renovation – For the fireplace, I knew I wanted to go with electric fireplaces because I wanted something we could use in all seasons (with and without heat) to add a cozy glow to the room. We went with this fireplace insert (we used it three times in the living room, our bedroom and my husband’s office). Love it! The paint color we used in our living room is Oyster Bay by Sherwin Williams and the tile color on the fireplace surround is Oyster Shell by Fireclay Tile. Antique Collections – Since curating a layered look takes a long time, I decided to start with the first floor and work my way up. SO currently our living spaces downstairs are very full of art and antique finds that bring me joy. Over time I plan to add more. This is a plan that can take years, but I enjoy it a lot of prefer not to rush it. Powder Bathroom – Our powder bathroom on the first floor is the one most often seen by guests so I decided to go all-in—filling it with paintings from floor to ceiling. The woman in the center-right in the yellow blouse is my grandmother Corina and for sure she’s the inspiration for the whole space. Bar Cart – I currently work as a cocktail writer most weeks (see our cocktail recipes) and in doing so for more than a year I have amassed a huge liquor collection. It’s split between here and the dollhouse bar (below). Learning new cocktail recipes is one of my passions. I found this art piece at Scout Design Studio and the wooden swan shelf is an eBay find. Green Paint – I love the color in this room- it’s Farrow & Ball’s Green Smoke. It’s such a unique, moody green and notice how it looks wildly different from photo to photo. Art Collection – This photo by Julie Blackmon started it all for me, as far as my art collection goes. My sister purchased it for me, as a gift, a couple years ago right before we found this home. Since then, I have been steadily building an art collection. Fun fact: 75% of the furniture in our home is antique that we sourced locally. The flea markets in this part of the country are incredible. I have always admired antique furniture and having the chance to build our space based on it has been really fulfilling. Dollhouse Bar Cabinet – The dollhouse bar has a fun story behind it. One night, I was rewatching my favorite movie “Knives Out,” and I noticed that the giant dollhouse in his living room was actually a bar. I looked them up immediately finding that they run between $6,000 and $20,000 (I know, right??!). The next day, I found one on an estate sale auction and was able to win it for a fraction of the retail price. To me, this is the best evidence I’ve found that we’re living in a simulation designed in our imaginations. Dream big, dream weird, friends! I’m kidding/not kidding.

Kitchen Island – Our kitchen is the main room we have not renovated, aside from matching the hardwoods and adding this 10-foot island. I found the green stools from Schoolhouse Electric. I am mulling over design ideas slowly and we plan to complete it in the next few years. This kitchen was very spare on storage, but had a lot of extra wall space so we added some white storage cabinets. That has been a big help. Hidden Trash Can – Here you can see the part of the kitchen we kept as is, and a solution we came up with to make it more functional for phase one. We added this double trash can and built out the counter to make it deep enough to accommodate our coffee gear. Above that, I added a brass pot rail to store our copper pots. Breakfast Nook – This little breakfast room right off the kitchen was such a fun jewel box to decorate. I do the majority of my food blogging in this space since the lighting is usually best in here. The built in corner cabinets are my favorite original feature. Stairway Landing – Now, we’re moving up to the second floor. This landing at the top of the stairway goes all the way around to access our bedrooms, the laundry room and my office. I decorated it with vintage mirrors all the way around. Bedroom Fireplace – In our bedroom, we added a fireplace. For the design, I pulled inspiration from my favorite horror movie, Rosemary’s Baby. We built this fireplace as a replica to the one in her apartment from the movie. When building new pieces, I find it really helps to reference a historic photo and stay as close to it as possible. The wallpaper and painting in this room are from artist Lulie Wallace. I’ve been a fan of hers for more than a decade and have loved every evolution of her work. The painting makes me smile every day. The biggest departure we took from the movie design is instead of a black marble surround I chose a tile that coordinated with our wallpaper. We used Fireclay Tile in the color Peabody. Antique Lighting – Lighting was a huge project for me this year. The home only came with a few chandeliers that were antiques from the early 1900s when it was built, but we added dozens more. I will be honest, it’s almost always more steps and sometimes antiques even need a full rewiring. To me, it is worth it and a major way we added charm back into the home. Kids Bedrooms – Our girls are old enough to choose their own bedroom themes now. Nova chose a space and science theme. Marigold chose a princess bedroom. This photo shows my favorite peek through of the house with a floor to ceiling kids library for our 8-year-old daughter. Kids Bathroom – This is a children’s bathroom. We are still in the process of decorating it. The wallpaper is Hygge & West Storyline in the color Delft Blue. The paint color is Farrow & Ball’s Breakfast Room Green. Moody Office – My office is the most moody space in our home and since it’s a very small room, the wallpaper and intense red paint color made a huge impact. I found this rolltop desk from Marketplace. The display of small gold frames is the first spot in our home where I decorated with family photos. I hope to add a few more moments like this. My snake is by Paige Dorsey Barnes. I commissioned her through Liz Lidgett gallery. Someone remarked that it looks like “Adam and Eve” theme, which was not what I was going for, but I love it. Guest Bedroom – We are moving up to the third floor now. This floor consists of two guest bedrooms (we have a lot of family and friends with young kids), a full bathroom, a lot of bookshelves and a bit of living space. The guest room has a lot of angles so I knew I wanted to use a busy wallpaper. I chose the London Rose Wallpaper which is an OG. The paint color is Foxy Brown by Benjamin Moore. We used this jute rug with flowers. My favorite wallpaper and color combination in the whole house! The kids guest room is set up, but not very decorated yet.

We chose Setting Plaster by Farrow & Ball, which is a soft beige pink. The twin beds look antique, but they are from Chris Loves Julia’s PB for kids line. Sources: Beds, Rug, Quilt, Chandelier. Saved the best for last. I am thrilled with how this sweet little nook turned out. It’s surrounded by our home library and the perfect little tea party spot. Butterfly Nook – We used the Hygge & West Butterflies wallpaper in the color parchment for this small nook. I am strongly on team when it doubt, wallpaper the ceiling too. I love the cozy, vintage feel it adds to this space. More Home Posts: Let me know if you have any questions or need any extra links in the comments! xx- Elsie

[spockandawe]

So, guess who hit one of those kinda manic Gotta Go Fast craft swings, haha. But I have a new running project for when the need for speed overtakes me! I own a lot of star wars novels, but a lot of them are ancient and cheap and falling apart, a lot are at my parents' place, my bookshelves are a mess, and really, these things could be a little more.... matched, don't you think?

Maybe I have a problem.

I do not have a problem!!!! I have an art installation in progress. I have the first twenty star wars novels as octavo handbound books (eight pages per side of printed paper), with subseries gathered into single volumes. Does this mean the thrawn trilogy clocked in at 1350 pages? ......yes, but look, at this size it's still very comfortable to hold, and it's so CUTE

And just for a fun retro take on bookbinding, you have to cut apart the folds as you read. The font is small, but plenty comfortable for my eyes, and this is a project for me.

Now, as I go through this, I do plan to purchase copies of whatever books I don't own. This is on pause for a little while as I look at buying a home and moving, because I don't need to be purchasing MORE things to relocate right now, but it's like the cnovels, this is not an exercise in piracy, it's an exercise in art and craftsmanship, and I believe in supporting creators.

And finally, as I go through this, I plan to avoid repeating cover fabrics. They'll complement each other when appropriate, like the movie novelizations with the marbled fabrics above, and I plan to match novel vibes, of course. But there are 360ish novels? I can easily find that many unique but suitable fabrics, even when I'm finally forced to stop shopping from my existing stash. Splinter of the mind's eye can have something swampy, Lando can have something bold and flashy, Thrawn can be dark, with mathematical precision. So many options!! This is a fun project, and I am excited to someday pick it back up, hopefully in the nearish future

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

can’t stop thinking about those poor kids from ‘Knock, Knock’ that have to deal with the Doctor being their eccentric landlord.....he probably just shows up unannounced at random times, landing the TARDIS in increasingly inconvenient places like, blocking the fridge, in front of the tv, in the shower while someone is occupying it, and they’re like ‘sir why are you here’ and he’s like ‘you called and told me the dishwasher is broken?’ but they definitely Didn’t so he leaves and like, six months later when their dishwasher breaks they call him and he never shows up lmao. they’ll catch at like 3am painting a room bright turquoise with no warning or explanation. he keeps installing weird futuristic or alien appliances into the home to be helpful but he doesn’t tell them how they work so like, no one’s been able to open the freezer for three weeks, the toaster spat fire at Paul’s head, Shireen sat down on the couch and was teleported to a nearby park, Bill’s vanity mirror came to life, the tv now has a bunch of alien stations available and they end up watching that episode of Murder Future Big Brother(tm) that the 9th Doctor got trapped on and everyone freaks out. 12 will call them over to his desk after class and be like ‘I am not in a terrible mood today, I’ll bring you guys dinner tonight’ and they know he’s a takeout fiend so they’re expecting a top-notch Chinese food feast but he shows up with like, glowing purple slime and is like ‘this is considered a delicacy in 6 different solar systems, I had to fight off a star squid and break one of the articles of the Shadow Proclamation in order to smuggle it to my favorite earth ape kids :)’ and the guilt trip works so they try to eat it but Bill takes the first bite and the slime starts screaming...oh my God. 12 DEFINITELY has a Feng Shui phase. absolutely rearranges their entire house at least once a month with no warning or real explanation. Harry has to call his grandad and be like ‘can you PLEASE threaten your ex-boyfriend for me, I haven’t been able to find my bed in weeks’ (the Doctor cut it out after that but Harry’s grade suspiciously went down for a bit lmao). they start seeing mice so they tell the Doctor and he gives them a cat and they were impressed like wow, a normal, cute solution! then one day they witness the cat unhinge it’s jaws a swallow a potted plant whole....it takes Bill 4 hours to explain to him why they cannot accept an Ood as a Christmas present...they invite him to a New Years Eve party and he brings Missy and everyone other than Bill is like 👀👀👀👀 ohoho a lady friend for our weird old man? and he’s like ‘oh no this is my emotional support arch nemesis, but I think the holographic ghost of my wife might be able to swing by later, you lot will love her’ and they’re just like,,,,alright! because that sadly doesn’t even make the Top 10 Weirdest Things He’s Ever Said List lmao. 

just....how do you function having a chaotic alien as a landlord while you’re trying to maintain your grades and live normal lives. how. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph, welcome back! I really wish and hope that you are better, healthwise, workload wise and in any other aspects of your life, and you find something to counter the effect of the upcoming dark months too. I always like your answers to those "what brings you joy" question things so if you are in the mood, you might list 5 things that either recently uplifted you or you are looking forward to, or both. I send you all the good vibes :-) <3 <3 <3

Hey Lovely!!

OH GOSH I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED THIS ASK!!!! Jeez, this is something I always need, hahah. Positivity is hard for me these days, and I guess this is something I really need!

Hmm, This is a great question, because I do answer the "5 things that make me happy" question a lot and I feel like no one likes them anymore because it's usually the same answers. And I do suffer from seasonal mood swings this time of the year, so this will be good. Let's see:

The plan to inevitably get my new couch: it's been out of stock for months, so I'm hoping this supply chain thing fixes itself soon so I can finally have a decent couch I can work on. My old bones can't hand it anymore.

How much art I've been getting done: I try to do some doodles a little bit each day and I have lots of new art done. Lots of inspiration from other ships I'm loving again, and I'm just really enjoying having my iPad. I think it was the best purchase I made last year, because it's greatly improved my mental health having something that is devoid of ANYTHING work related (my home personal computer became a work computer at the start of the pandemic, which means even during personal time, I get bothered for work stuff... I purposely did NOT install Slack, Zoom and Asana on my iPad).

Rediscovering my love for some of my old fave video games: I started playing Kingdom Hearts again on the weekend, because I bought the HD collection years ago and never touched it because I was REALLY invested in the AC Modern Trilogy. Now I want to replay the whole series and KH3 again. Also, replaying some Sonic games, and watching "movies" of the VG cutscenes of DBH has made me happy, and I want to start Skyrim again, LOL. I just got tired of playing a slew of games I didn't enjoy, so I just decided to try some old faves I didn't have to think about. The KH series is my fave video game series of all time. I ALSO found out the original AC trilogy is on sale on the PS Store, so I'm tempted to buy the Ezio collection for 20 bucks, lol.

It sounds SO stupid, but making my apartment cold enough to snuggle up in 5 comforters. Literally, the only thing I like about winter is opening my window a crack to make it chilly in my apartment, and in turn I snuggle up in a bunch of blankets while I work. I'd rather be doing my day job comfortably on my couch, and I'm happy my boss lets me keep working from home even though most of the staff are back in-office.

This is WAYYYYY in the future, if the US ever gets their shit together: Going to Disney World again. I had plans to go to Disney for my 40th year, to make it super special, but I refuse to cross the border in All This™. So, rather than be upset about it, I'm going to keep setting aside money in my "Disney" account, and by the time I do go (either for my 45th or 50th), I'm going to make it the most incredible trip ever, and splurge and treat myself, even if I have to go alone... AND so long as I don't have to use that money for an emergency. Here's hoping. The account will have a lot of money in it in 5 to 10 years... And I may as well keep dropping money into it. OR alternatively, I've always wanted to do a beach holiday or a cruise. I'll see what happens :)

Thank you for this! Again I am sorry I missed it, but I am glad I found it on a lonely Sunday night. It gave me the opportunity to reflect and try to think positively about my life and myself.

*HUGS*

[egoludes]

the greatest gift of all.

note: so, to be honest with y’all...i have no idea where this came from. i was just minding my business this weekend, @adorecevans​​ and i started talking about one (1) headcanon scenario, and now here we are! this is going to be a v casual series, basically just snippets of dom!chris and sub!reader (in no particular order) building a relationship. future installments will explore the history more, but what you need to know for this one and the series overall: dom!chris meets sub!reader through a dom/sub dating app of sorts and have been engaging each other long distance for a few months. reader has no idea that it’s chris evans for the obvious reasons, and since he doesn’t give a name at all, she addresses him as Sir. i’ll explore all that background more in the future, but for now: i really hope you enjoy!

credits: unsplash for the stock image, and an anon in @honeychicanawrites​​‘s asks one day for the image of cevans calling his lady ‘mama’... i had to do it. 

warnings: masturbation, voyeuristic vibes, intimacy over video call, dom/sub dynamics, long distance / virtual relationships, sex toys, use of title as name (sir).

wc: 2.3k

The thought comes to you on a Sunday afternoon.

You’re on your belly thumbing through texts, legs up and crossed at the ankles with Sir’s newest gift -- a pretty pink slip -- and your laptop beside you. The screen is dark, save for a grey circle with an initial in the center that lets you know he’s there, listening, when you say: “Have you ever tried one of those dildo molds, Sir?”

The initial silence is suffocating, and you worry for a second that the idea - spur of the moment, really - goes too far. You’re just learning each other, after all; still adjusting to the pictures, the calls, the gifts you model for him with pride. 

But then, he speaks, a familiar rasp to the words that makes you clench in your fitting black shorts. The question comes from a place of genuine curiosity, but you’ve riled him up still, which excites you; always does. “That’s what you’re thinking about over there, huh? Feeling me?”

Your body heats, conditioned already to react to that dangerous tone in his voice; but you try to keep your expression reticent when you turn it to your camera. There’s another moment of nothing -- just you watching the lens like it’s him before you. Then, your lips curl, lids narrow, and your voice turns playfully sweet. “Well, when am I not?”

He hisses, a sharp sound that makes you preen, and you can hear him on the other end, adjusting his screen. “Easy, mama,” he growls, earning himself a giggle, “it’s too early for you to be working me up.”

You laugh again, this time with more body before resting your cheek on your palm. Without his video on -- a compromise you’ve grown used to -- you can’t know that he’s actually watching you. But you lean into it all the same, swinging your legs behind you. “But, have you?”

He clicks his tongue, a thoughtful sound, and you imagine what his features must look like, twisted by consideration. “No - I don’t think I know anyone’s who has either.”

You hum, eyes glinting with something that makes him suck in a breath. “I’ve always wondered about it. Not just the process, but just...having one,” you murmur, settling deeper into your pensive stance. There’s a dreaminess to your tone that not even you notice; but he, that ever-mindful man, takes note.

You continue on, none the wiser. 

////

A week later, you come home at the top of rush hour, grateful that you’ve made it so early, but burdened all the same. Stress is a fickle, but poignant thing, and you’re feeling its weight extra today as you make your way up to your apartment. You’re excited for the time to yourself, thinking on what you might make for dinner, when you see it - a small, but noticeable box at the foot of your door.

Immediately, your expression turns, confusion and wariness turning your mouth into a scowl. You don’t remember ordering anything, nor are you expecting something for anyone else. You hope the label will give you a clue about what this could be, but to your chagrin, it has no company - just your address and a generic return location. 

Still, you take it in, setting it on the kitchen counter, where it stays forgotten as you shower, eat, and pour yourself a glass of wine. You’re halfway through the second when the package re-snares your attention from the corner of your eye. You drain the rest of your drink with a gulp, wiping red off the corners of your mouth before you stand, determined, to approach it.

The box is unassuming; plain cardboard with nothing but the barebones label to distinguish it. You lift it again, this time with both hands, to measure it and feel something heavy shift inside. It’s enough to pique your curiosity, and you tear through the packaging until you can see what’s in it.

At the center is another, smaller box made of sleek black velvet. A card is attached with red ribbon, careful lettering penned in dark ink. Even before you fish it out, you can work out the message, but it doesn’t feel real until the note sits in your hand and you’re reading it up close.

For my favorite girl; so you can feel me any time you want.

Sir.

Your eyes dance over the words a few times before their meaning sinks in and you realize it’s a gift from him. Then, you’re practically rabid, tugging out the box out and flipping the lid in one motion.

When you see what’s inside, it’s all you can do not to buckle at the knees. In the middle of the box, set up almost regally on a bed of plushy silk, is a veined, pink dildo. You don’t need to touch it to know that it’s heavy, but that doesn’t stop you from doing it all the same. Your fingers take it by the base first, wrapping firmly above the balls to test the weight. And you moan at it, that delicious thickness as you lift it from the box with both hands. Your palms curve around it, twitching with want, and you realize then that this is what he looks like, what he feels like.

What you would get if he came home to you for real.

The thought is too much to bear. Your breath quickens, fingers dancing deliberately up and over the shaft to size it up. You tell yourself that this is all you need for now ---- you know better than anyone that to use this toy for the first time without him is a test of his patience you’re certain to fail. But, the more you touch, the more you need, and before you can reconsider, you’re on your hands and knees on your couch, panties pressed sloppily to the side as you guide the heft of Sir’s length past your aching entrance.

The impact is immediate. You fall forward with a gasp as every inch stretches you open and by the time it’s fully seated, your face is completely hidden in your couch cushions. The fabric muffles your voice as your hips start to move, a slow, languid grind to make sure everything is felt. 

You get so lost in it, you don’t hear your phone buzzing until it’s almost too late. But, at the nth moment, you recognize the ringtone you’d chosen just for him and, despite the clear risk of answering, you reach for the device, trembling with nerves, excitement, and lust, at the dangerous game you’re about to play. 

When you answer, there’s nothing but darkness from his end and your face in the corner. You’re sitting on your butt now, legs carefully spread and hips angled to keep from jostling the toy inside you. But, it’s hard not to squirm in a situation like this; even more so, when he starts to talk, voice raw from the day. 

“Hi, honey,” he breathes, the endearment -- your favorite -- making your heart swell, “almost thought you were already asleep.”

You shake your head, biting back a knowing smile. “No, Sir… I’m still awake, just...watching tv.”

“Yeah?” He says, something skeptical in the tone. Even without his video on, you can almost feel his gaze burning a hole in your expression. Like he’s inspecting it, picking it apart for clues. He must find one, because he hums lowly; a dip in the sound that makes it sound like he’s smirking. “Only watching tv?”

“Y-Yes, Sir…”

“Okay, okay -- what’re you watching? Is it any good?”

Your eyes flicker towards the television to glean what’s playing, but Sir catches you before you can get a good look. “Nuh uh -- eyes over here.” 

Despite your better judgment, you pout, all but caught now, and the expression makes him laugh. He’d had a number of subs before you -- people who had piqued his sexual interest, but never quite held up to any of his other, more innocent expectations. But you ---- even if he wouldn’t call you something as invested as a lover, your personality makes it hard to be anything but endeared to you. Before he knew it, he was in headlong, calling you for sessions a couple times a week, sending gifts even more than that. You’re fun to just exist with, even in this moment as he’s so deliberately toying with you.

“Can’t be too good if you can’t tell me anything about it without looking, huh?” His voice drops, a dangerous timbre taking it, and you feel your body shake. “So you gonna tell me the truth before you get yourself in more trouble?”

A whimper breaks past parted lips and you bite down a little too late to stifle the sound. “T-The toy,” you whisper, clenching around his cock despite him being hundreds or thousands of miles away. The irony isn’t lost on you - if anything, it’s making your need spike. There’s something so odd, but so enticing about the whole thing. “I couldn’t wait, Sir… your cock just looked so good.”

Sir curses near the phone, so close that you swear you can feel the breath of it on your palm. “Jesus...I knew you’d be hungry for it, but I didn’t think it’d get you this much. Breakin’ our number one rule and everything.” You shift on the couch, free hand reaching to pull out the dildo in anticipation of his punishment. It’s likely to be no orgasms for the night which, as disappointing as that is, seems almost worth it for the pleasure of this weight inside you. Then he speaks again, forcing you to pause in your motion.

“Get on your computer ---- I want to see the way I fit inside you. Then, we can talk about your punishment.”

The minutes between your phone call and the start of the call on your laptop are equal parts tantalizing and tortuous. You’ve only broken this rule once prior and ended up having to watch him fuck his hand through two sloppy orgasms before getting sent to bed without touching yourself even once. So the fact that he seems to be inclined to let you keep the dildo in gives you pause.

But it’s the sort that’s almost intoxicating. Your adrenaline is pumping, thighs slick with want, and by the time you’ve gotten the video up and running, you’ve shed your panties completely, legs wedged open with the camera trained between them as directed.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetie… look at that pussy eating me up.” You whine out for him, walls clenching visibly at his words in a reaction that makes him purr. “That good? Everything you thought it would be?”

You nod in a daze, cock drunk even with your hips still, and Sir shifts on the other end, the telltale clink of an open belt alerting you to how good it feels for him too. You’re in two minds to beg him to see, even if it’s just a view of the waist down, when he beats you to the punch. “Take it out --”

You blink, trying to focus on his words enough to make sense of his command. He can see the confusion in your face and has to try not to laugh. “Take it out,” he repeats, “and sit on it. I want to see you take it properly.”

It’s a scramble after that -- you, shifting and guiding the toy out of you until you’re hovering over the tip of it on your knees. Lidded eyes dance towards your laptop as you still there, body wound tight in anticipation, and like many times before, you hold his gaze through the lens as you sink down, down, down onto the dildo he made for you.

If you thought you were full before, you’re certainly learning your lesson. The change in angle has the cock dizzyingly deep, enough that it punches the air out of your lungs. You can feel the balls against your bare skin, a permanent reminder of how much you’ve taken, and when he calls for you again, adoration in the breathy tones, you can’t help but buzz. 

You love to make him proud of you.

His tone is so tender that you nearly forget you’re in trouble and are about to lift your hips and give him a show when he stops you. “You heard what I said, honey,” he teases when your confused expression returns. “I want you to sit on it. You stay right where you are.”

The urge to beg is potent -- a searing kind of desperation that you’ve never minded indulging with him. But before you can form words in your head, let alone out loud, the dildo comes to life inside you, shaking with such force you cry out from the suddenness. Between being full, and the toy revealing itself to be a vibrator, it’s all too much, so much, and you’re falling back into the couch knees shaking beneath you.

“Now, now, don’t give up on me yet,” Sir coos, a distinct click sounding from his side of the screen and confirming your suspicions when the vibrator turns off right after, “you wanted  to feel me, didn’t you?” He pauses long enough for you to nod, gasping in a breath as your teary eyes dance blindly over the screen you wish you could see him on. There’s another click, then a cry as your body arches in an involuntary jolt.

“Then, be a good girl - show me how well you can handle it.”

[mandalorewhore]

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter  (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily​

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man. 

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew  something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

    You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to  not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake. 

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again. 

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off  as a droid. 

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment. 

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason.  Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

    “I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness. 

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond. 

    “Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

    “Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

    “O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

    “Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine. 

    “Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops. 

    He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.” 

    There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.” 

    A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?” 

    “That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

    “Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you. 

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

    “16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous. 

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind. 

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer. 

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

 You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions. 

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

    You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?” 

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?” 

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze. 

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet. 

“Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness. 

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away. 

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling. 

“You can carry it from now on.” 

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit? 

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire. 

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry. 

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

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

 You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you. 

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

          But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on. 

You wish they would fear you like that.

          Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

          “Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

          “I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

          “Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

          “It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

          The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

          “Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector. 

          Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

          Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

          “She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you. 

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

          Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip. 

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job. 

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology. 

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome. 

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time. 

    “I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger. 

    “Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted. 

    “My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose. 

    After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

    “I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.” 

    You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

    “I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

    “Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

    This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

    “On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this. 

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.” 

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously. 

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it. 

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants.  He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.” 

He waves back. “You as well, girl.” 

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

----------------   

    It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

    Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere. 

    As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

    It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

    Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about. 

    Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path. 

    It’s almost funny how quickly things go south. 

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated. 

    “I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

    You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison. 

    The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement. 

The blast misses by a few inches. 

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

    You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

    Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

 As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here. 

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof. 

He saved your ass. Again. 

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there. 

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about. 

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is. 

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it. 

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

    He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?” 

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street. 

----------------   

The walk back to the Crest is short.

 You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall? 

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you. 

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp. 

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot. 

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it. 

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot. 

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that. 

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles. 

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again. 

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him. 

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan. 

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now. 

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire. 

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach. 

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead. 

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal. 

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian. 

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.” 

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that. 

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath. 

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit. 

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game. 

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-” 

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life. 

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-” 

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt. 

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims. 

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement. 

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words 

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours. 

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing. 

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.” 

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator. 

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.” 

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks. 

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness. 

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

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

     It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

    The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this. 

    “Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly. 

And so you do.

[punkpanda16]

Mistakes and Miracles ch. 16

Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 3.2k+

Summary: We never know what to expect in life . Just like you never expected to be a single mother at a young age, much less come to find the father of said child is no other than you idol Min Yoongi from the worldwide hit sensation BTS. What will happen to your somewhat “normal”  life when he comes in and turns it upside down? Will you be able to raise a child with your extremely attractive bias?

Warnings: use of bad language

Type: Fluff, angst

Your POV

Leaving behind someone you love is not easy. It is even harder when your son spends hours crying because he misses his dad.

Being a parent has taught you life is an internal battle of decision making. A part of you really needed to do this for yourself. No matter how much you loved Yoongi or Little Min, you still wanted to do some things for yourself. To some this may seem selfish but, you knew dating someone or even becoming a mother should not take away from your identity. Your family, your friends, and your life back home are a large part of that.

You loved Yoongi but, from now on things were not going to be simple. You choose your son and Yoongi. And at the same time Yoongi’s life chose you.

No matter how hard it would be with the media, fans, and his career, you did not want this new life to completely destroy you. You had seen many devastating examples of what this life of fame could do to idols or to those around them who were simply rumored to be close them.

When you arrived home and began to settle into your old life, you realized how much you missed it. It was those little things we tend to forget about and take for granted. Things like simply going out to dinner without feeling like you have to be on guard the entire time. Things like seeing your friends or taking Alexander for walks without being covered up or followed by security.

Moments like today. A wave of guilt and sadness hits you as you push Alexander on the swings. His giggles fill the air as you make faces at him every time he swings back to you. You see his little eyes light up as he goes up and down. These beautiful moments you wish you could enjoy more often.

Yoongi did everything in his power to keep those around him happy and safe, especially his son. However, the constant fear of someone hurting Alexander can make it hard for him to enjoy moments like this in peace. This is where the guilt and sadness stems from.

He does everything he can to ensure a bright future for his son but in doing so he gives up doing everyday things with his family and friends.

This brought back a memory of the first time he began to open up to you.

~Flashback~

You sat in the studio lulling Alexander to sleep as you listened to Yoongi work. A soft melody fills the air making you sleepy as well. When your head begin to drop you felt it was best to move Alexander to the crib Yoongi had installed in the studio for him.

He had it custom built to look like a piano with the keys painted on the side as well as, a mobile with hanging music notes. When you turned it on it would play piano versions of their songs like "I Need You" and "Butterfly. " He even moved some of his equipment to fit it right next to his desk.

Sometimes you couldn't help but think how lucky this baby was to have a father like Min Yoongi.

“You can go home and get some rest. I’ll be here a few more hours but I’ll take him home as soon as I am done. That way you won’t have to worry about moving him or him waking you later.” He said softly, making sure he doesn't wake your sleeping baby.

“I’m his mother. Even if he’s sleeping right next to me, I worry. I mean before I had your guys' help I spent every moment I could with him and look at what happened.” You say with a sad smile as you remember all those nights you saw your son in the hospital. How small and vulnerable he looked connected to all those machines. No matter how many months pass it still scared you how close you were to losing him.

There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again. “I am worried and afraid all the time.” He says as he looks longing at his little boy.

“Rapper Man is afraid?” You tease with a smile. The sweet smile he shows you in return makes your heart swoon.

“Yes, I am afraid. I also feel sad and guilty and mad… You know like normal human beings.” He jokes back.

“I know but you always look like you keep it together.” You say softly.

“Well in this world there is nothing else I can do to not break down.” He says sadly.

You sit back down as you face him. You watch his soft features as he keeps his eyes on his sleeping baby.

“You know..” he says as he turns his attention to you. “You are one of luckiest people I know.”

“Really?” You say a surprised. “Well I guess it is not everyday you not only meet your idol, but raise a kid with them. This life of luxury with you guys is what I’m sure many ARMY would kill to experience even if it is just for a day.” You say with a small smile.

“No. T-that’s not what I mean.” He says with a frown. “I’m not talking about the luck of us meeting or the luck of being brought into this “idol life” with me.” He says as he watches you with his catlike eyes. The sadness in them makes your smile drop.

“O-oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean it to sound like I was using you for money or fame or anything. I’m meant as in-" You begin to panic a little.

You never wanted to make him or any of the boys feel used. They were genuinely your family. It never mattered if they were idols or not. You loved them for who they were outside of the spotlight.

“Hey it’s okay I know what you mean.” He reassures you with a smile. “You're not like that. Despite how I treated you when we first met, I know you now. You would never do that to me or the rest of the guys or our son.” Every time he said our son it made butterflies dance in your stomach. It felt like love, adoration, and home all wrapped up in one.

“I mean you are lucky to be you. You, as in a normal person. Some one who doesn’t feel the weight of all this on your shoulders.” He says as he gestures to the things in his room.

“You could leave right now. You could pack up everything including our son and leave. And I couldn’t stop you.” He says sadly.

“Yoongi, please. One, I would never take him from you and two, I know first hand, you would fight anything or anyone who tries to take that sweet little man from you.” You reassured him.

“I would never fight you.” He says as he looks into your eyes.

“Don’t be silly, you know you would do anything for him.” You say with a smile. You try to keep up a happy expression in order to keep the conversation light, but you have a feeling this is going somewhere deeper and emotional.

“That’s why I wouldn’t fight you if you decided to leave me and take him with you.” He says in a serious tone, one you've only ever heard him use with the boys. Mainly, with Jungkook when he gets into trouble.

“What?” Your face is now matching his.

“You heard me. If you left and took him, I would let you. I wouldn’t gather a legal team. I wouldn’t let the boys contact you. I wouldn’t even contact you. I would just make sure you both are financially secure.” He explains.

“Are you- what? Are you okay? Where is this coming from? This isn't like you.” You asked with worry in your voices.

He lets out a small chuckle. “This is totally like me. You said yourself I would do anything for him. And I would do anything for you. If never seeing me again is what keeps both of you safe and happy, then I would do it in a heartbeat. You- you don’t know what it’s like to be here.” He said as he pointed to himself.

“Well I’ve lived with you and the boys for a few months. I think I can get some sort of idea.” You try to reason.

“No. Well yes, maybe you know some of it. But it’s the inner pain and frustration. You had some time to live a somewhat normal life in your teens and early adulthood. Granted being a mother young, especially the way it happened to you, isn’t what many go through. But even then, that time before you met me, you had a life. You had friends you could go to dinner with and you had your family whenever you needed them. You could make mistakes and learn from them without having thousands of eyes watching and judging you.” He stops to take a breath before continuing.

“I want him to have that. I want him to grow up like we did. No flashing lights or interviews or scandals. I want him to have real friends. I want him to feel safe enough to run in a park. I want him to just be a kid.” He says. “I don’t want the world to be on his shoulders too.”

You sit there processing his words for a moment. “You know I am very lucky. I did get to have all of those things. And yes, you have a point, I will never be in your place and feel all the hurt you feel. But, in certain ways I can understand. I mean going out with friends and living a “normal life” was me at one point. Now, I look back and that feels like a whole other lifetime. Ever since that little one came into my life… his whole world has been on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try it never feels like enough.” You say with a frown.

“But, you know what is enough.” You say as you look him in the eyes. “You. Us. This family that we build for him. That kid is going to have the best chance at happiness because you are his dad. And he has uncles that will be there to guide him as well. It’s different and definitially not easy but if anyone can raise him... it’s you. Honestly, you don’t even need me, you're the best dad in the world.” You say with a small laugh.

“Haha. Don’t say that. I... We need you.” He says with a shy smile.

~Present~

You’re brought back to reality by a ding from your phone.

From Yoongi (2:23 pm) : Hey beautiful. I just wanted to check in. I know we talked like an hour ago but I miss you and Little Min. Give him a kiss from me please. I also send you kisses, don’t think I forgot.

From Yoongi (2:25pm) : Also, there’s something we need to talk about. Don't worry too much about it. It’s just something we need to talk about as soon as possible.

You don’t know why but his message made your stomach turn. Yoongi is typically a very direct person. He doesn’t bring important things up through messages like this. He will always just call or say it face to face.

You felt it best to just get home and put Alexander down for a nap before you call him back.

“Alright my little man. Let’s get go-"

Your words die in your throat and the world seems to go into slow motion as you see someone you thought you’d never see again approaching.

If your stomach was upset before you could definitely throw up at this moment.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

Yoongi’s POV

He knew sending that message was going to have you thinking about every possible negative scenario for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to worry you but he also didn’t want to blindside you the next time you talked over the phone.

It all started when you two hung up earlier. You had mentioned that you were taking the baby on a walk after lunch. He felt it was a great idea seeing as his son didn’t get to go out in public as often now that the media knew of his existence.

He had obviously offered to send security with you but you wanted to just be alone with your family. The less attention you drew to yourself the better. That he understood, but he still worried. He trusted you and knew you would never put Alexander at risk on purpose. Plus, if anything were to happen he could always make some calls and get you security right away.

As he went back to work after your call ended he heard a knock on his door.

“Hold on, it's locked. I’ll open it.” He closed the file he was working on and went to open the door.

On the other side he found Namjoon, Jimin, and Teahyung standing there. Their faces held small signs of worry. He didn’t think too much of it. The comebacks always had all of them on edge. They were probably just tired and missing their nephew.

“Come in.” he says as he opens the door for them. They all file in as he goes back to the computer.

“Good thing you guys are here. I have this beat and I just can’t-" he tries to explain until he’s cut off.

“Hyung…. umm we need to talk about something. Look, don't worry we already talked to the mangers and they-" Jimin starts to ramble nervously until Namjoon put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks as he finally faces them.

“We got some news about Alexander’s birth mom. And we need to talk to you first before we get the team together.” Namjoon says sadly with tears pooling in his eyes. Now that he looks at his friends more clearly he notices Taehyung and Jimin both have red eyes too, a clear indication that they’ve been crying.

“Y-you. What? No! No that’s not possible. She is gone. Why? What does she want?” Yoongi says as he stands. He is practically yelling at his point as his blood beings to boil.

“Is it money? Does she she want fucking money?!! Just give it to her. I don’t care what she asks for, give it to her!” He can feel the fear and anger create a knot in back of his throat.

“Hyung, let’s sit down and talk for a second, okay.” Taehyung suggested. They all move to couch where Yoongi tries to calm his breathing.

This can’t be happening. After everything this can’t be how he loses his son.

“So what does she want? Tell me. I’ll give her anything’s so she can just get out of our fucking lives for good.” He says angrily. The boys all look at each other unsure what to say next.

“The problem is we don’t know.” Namjoon says as he looks away as if he ashamed of his answer.

“Y-you don’t know?!! How could you not know?! This is my son… MY SON, your nephew need I remind you, we are talking about and you don’t even know what that bic- what that woman wants to leave us the fuck alone!” He yells out of frustration.

“Hyung, you need to calm down. She didn’t ask for anything, all she said was she wanted to meet you and Y/N to have a talk. She wants you to bring the baby too.” Jimin explained nervously.

“She must be fucking crazy to think I'd let her anywhere near them.” He responds as he stands up and begins to pace around the room. At this point he just wants to break everything. All the work on controlling his anger seems to be forgotten at this very moment

“You have to.” Namjoon says with anger in his voice. He stands up and walks toward Yoongi.

“I don’t have to do shit. Alexander is my son and Y/N is my girlfriend. I will do what I think is necessary to protect them. And that woman has brought nothing but pain to both of them.” He spits with venom in his voice.

“We don’t have a choice!” Namjoon yells back. They are practically face to face now. Taehyung and Jimin get ready to intervene if necessary.

“What do you mean we don’t have a choice? Of course we do. Tell her to go fuck herself. She gave up the right to see my son the moment she walked out on him.” Yoongi continues to yells but steps away from his friend in order to break some of the tension they were creating.

“She said she’ll sue us and go public if you don’t meet with her.” Namjoon responds. That was enough to shut him up immediately.

The public had come to not only accept Little Min, but absolutely adore him. Obviously, rumors and questions about how he came to be circulated, but the company made sure to keep most of that story private. It was never to lie to fans, rather to keep Alexander safe and away from scandal. If the media were to find out now about everything it would not just be the end of just Yoongi’s career but the end of BTS. A scandal like that they could not recover from.

“I c-can’t do it to my son, but I especially can’t do it to Y/N. I know she has told me not to hate that woman but I know deep down if she saw her again it would hurt her.” He said sadly.

“Hyung, you know we love Y/N like family. But, we have to think about everyone. We would never put either of you or Little Min in a position where you would be hurt. If you say yes to this meeting, we will focus on setting everything up. Everything will be on your terms.” Jimin explained.

“If you say yes, then we will make sure it happens when and where you want it, Hyung.” Taehyung says as he hugs his friend tightly.

“And if I say no?” He asks in a broken voice.

“Then...we have to talk about our options.” Namjoon says seriously.

“Can I have sometime to think about it? It’s not just my decision to make. I need to talk to Y/N.” He says as tears finally roll down his cheeks.

“We can give you a few hours. But we need to act fast. Try talking to Y/N as soon as possible.” Namjoon says as he leads the other boys out the door.

“We love you hyung. No matter what. We are here for you.” Jimin says as they leave.

He wanted to call you right away but you were probably still at the park. He didn’t want to ruin that time you were spending with Alexander so he decided to just message you. He decided it would be best to just call you once he gathered his thoughts.

[luxekook]

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat. 

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all. 

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang 

[terrainofheartfelt]

FIC: All my days were rearranged to say ‘I love you’

For Dair appreciation week, Day 6, Fave Romantic Moments

In my heart, nothing can ever top the 'I love you so much that I secretly wrote your fiance’s wedding vows to you’ like, that is some next-level pining, my dude, I love it.

This little ficlet below is Vows-inspired, and is excerpted from an (eventually) upcoming installment in Mouthful of Forevers - it’s basically an imagining of these two actually communicating about that moment, and what it means for them. I hope you enjoy!

The title above is from “Swing Low, Sail High” by The Wailin’ Jenny’s

A week after Blair jokingly suggests it, a handwritten letter appears in her mailbox on the Rue de Moussy. She scoffs when she first sees it, because honestly, what a sap.

But, she melts when she opens it, when she reads the salutation of Dearest Blair at the top of the page. It’s the medium his writing is meant for, she thinks, ink and paper and cursive and intimacy. And it’s all for her, evidenced by the Yours in the closing, scrawled by his hand.

She sends him a proper stationary set with her response, deciding that he should commit to the full aesthetic. She leans into the aesthetic too, girlishly loving the 19th century romance feeling it inspires (Austen and the Brontës have always been her favorites after all). Blair saves half the letters, keeping them in an antique box she found in Montmartre, but the other half she sends back along with her replies, marked up with revisions and suggestions.

When Dan gets home after his book tour to find a pile of his marked-up letters, he sends her text with a photo of a red-inked page attached.

DH: “You wound me, Waldorf, what gives?”

BW: “What if someone decides to publish these like the Brownings one day? I will not have you posthumously embarrassing me with poor grammar, Humphrey.”

DH: “Should I have Dr. Kingston proof before I send them?”

BW: “Do what you think you must.”

He retaliates in his next letter, recounting the time they were caught in the rain in Munich, and he’d had her underneath an archway in Englischer Garten. It is so disarmingly and delightfully filthy in the way only Dan can be, his lines waxing about her eyes, her sounds, her taste, making her blush from 300 miles away. Blair is so turned on she completely forgets about their text exchange the week before, until she gets to the postscript: No need to worry, I did not submit this to my advisor for proofing.

She still teases him with her edits from time to time, but that particular letter she keeps for herself.

They still keep up all of their regular lines of communication—the facetime, the texts, the sexts—but the letters serve as a special space, to share the things that feel too deeply intimate for a phone call or an email, or even the conversations they have face-to-face when one or both of them can get away for a weekend. Things that are meant to be shared with ink and paper and cursive. Which is why Blair finally works up the courage to ask about the vows.

I have to admit, part of it was selfish. I was so in love with you, even then, and I had no place to put it, so when Louis asked me it was almost a relief. Almost. I still knew that he would be the ones saying them, and that you would hear them with his voice, not mine. But I told myself that it would be worth it, if they would make you feel loved, if they would make you smile, even for only a minute.

You ask me whether or not I meant what I wrote: of course I did. What’s that line by Neruda? “I lived in the prairies before I got to know you.”

At the beginning of sophomore year, in those months before I really knew you, I was caught in a cycle of hurting the people I cared about, hurting myself even. I loved and lost Milo, and then I hurt both Vanessa and Serena because I was too heartbroken to make up my mind. And then there was your birthday. I should apologize again for showing that video, but let me state here, for the record, on this paper, that I thought it was charming. Adorable, even.

But—I know it was wrong, and after all that, I did not like the man that I was, the man I was becoming.

And then, you.

Do you remember driving back from Connecticut? You asked me when was the last time I wrote anything. I couldn’t give you an answer, it had been so long ago that I couldn’t remember. And you, in typical Waldorf fashion, goaded me about it.

Seeing you over the holidays, spending time with you (however reluctantly at first), you reminded me of the person that I wanted to be. The writer. The art and French documentary enthusiast.

During those weeks, during that winter, you reminded me of who I was, who I wanted to be, and I fell in love with you for that. And now, I love you even more than I did then. You ask me whether or not I mean what I wrote in those vows now: of course I do.

If not for you, I know that I would have happily whiled away my time here at school completely holed up, burning in the curve of my loneliness, never venturing beyond the Camera walls. And then, like a miracle, you became my friend again, and pulled me out of myself and into this world I had always dreamed of seeing. Through traveling with you, discovering new places with you beside me—I’d say that I fell in love with you all over again, except that I never really stopped falling from the first time.

I know it is probably too early to talk of vows and forevers—truthfully I’m not entirely sure if I am ready to. I am enjoying taking my time with you, of having a love that sets no deadlines, no race to the finish line. But please know: when I think of the future, of what I want the years ahead to look like, Blair, you are all I see.

Yours (for as long as you’ll have me),

Dan

She reads and rereads the letter over and over, unable to formulate a reply for two days. Eventually she does sit down to write, and she tells him about the night of her bachelorette party, when she found those vows, copied in Louis’ hand.

I promise you then, it was worth it. Because in that moment, it was the most seen and most loved I had ever felt. And it was all because of you. And now you make me feel that way all the time.

Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve it, the way you love me. But, I am getting better at not questioning my extremely good luck.

Besides, after everything that’s happened, this—the way that I love you, the life that I want to have with you—feels earned. So, just in case I haven’t told you enough lately:

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

Yours (who plans to keep you for a very long time),

Blair

PS: You are all I see, too.

[straymackerel]

Headcanons for dazai, chuuya and fukuzawa (and maybe if you want too and have time mori too) with a s/o who often forgets to drink and eat over the day? Stay healthy and i hope you are doing good :)

➽─{hiii lovely i’m trying my best to stay healthy and hope everyone else is too! thank u bbg}─❥

dazai osamu

• ok but he also forgets to eat and drink all the time

• he’s a stinky boy with matted hair and a suicide wish, not exactly the epitome of self care

• oddly enough, the two of you manage to bond over your flaws, though dazai is much worse than you

• sometimes one of you will crawl into bed and both your stomachs will go brrrrr, so expect lots of late night snacks when you’re with him.

• insomnia cookies, midnight pub crawls, 4 am pizza delivery, you name it

• if anyone’s pulling your collective shit together, it’s gonna have to be you, because dazai doesn’t really care about his own wellbeing 😅😅

• but once he realizes that you’re affected by his tendencies too, he’ll start to take initiative. he genuinely wishes health and happiness for his raison d'etre

• the only kinda food he knows how to make is breakfast food, so expect steamed rice and miso soup and pan fried fish in your near future.

• it might turn out a little burnt the first few times but you know what? it’s the thought that counts

• he’ll swing by and bring bento boxes to your school/work on his lunch break

• when he slacks off at work he might give you a phone call just to tell you you’re the best lover he could ask for… and also to drink some water

• he might finally start bringing a water bottle to the detective agency, to which his coworkers ask him if he’s ok and if he hit his head or something

• if helping himself = helping you, then fuck it, he’ll do it

nakahara chuuya

• chuuya keeps his fridge well-stocked and he straight up tells you to take advantage of it

• and oh my, his pantry––it’s loaded. if it weren’t for your forgetful ways, you would never go hungry

• when he learns of your self-neglect, he makes sure your favorite foods are always available; that way, you have extra incentive to eat

• he brings this beautiful tall glass pitcher full of water to your room every morning for easy access...

• …but he also thinks wine counts as hydration, so that’s a little problematic.

• on nights when he can’t come home, he’ll ring you asap and make sure you get dinner

• he’s a pretty good chef when he has the time, so his home-cooked meals are top-notch (but it’s on a rare occasion)

• chuuya wouldn’t think twice about hiring a personal chef for you, one who can make all sorts of delicious japanese and international food cause he’s fancy like that

• he schemes with the chef to make sure you’re getting proper nutrition in proper portions at proper times, which is pretty nice cause you won’t have to figure it out yourself

• chuuya is lowkey a little jealous of you because he’d love to kick back at home, eat amazing food, and down it with alcohol water more often

• and on his few days off he’ll do just that, relaxing with you in his arms in the meanwhile

fukuzawa yukichi

• initially assumes you’re at least capable of eating and drinking every day

• genuinely befuddled when he realizes people like you exist

• he finds it extremely confusing––how does one neglect their basic human functions..?

• he is surrounded by a great deal of hungry hungry orphan kids after all, making you an anomaly

• fukuzawa is firm on the matter: “three meals and three liters of water a day. no excuses, we’re gonna get to the bottom of this.”

• takes a pragmatic approach to all of this, even consulting yosano for help

• he has yosano lecture you on the importance of eating/drinking properly, warning of malnutrition and exhaustion

• will install a telecare system in your home, the kind that prompts you to eat if you’re absent from the kitchen for hours on end

• the president of the ada may be busy catching criminals every day, but he’s never too busy to pack you a healthy lunch

• (he learned how to cook when he was raising ranpo up; he’s pretty fast at it now, especially anything that requires some kinda slicing and dicing)

• he’d secretly love to spoon-feed you, so pleaaaase let him if he ever lets that slip 🥺❤️

mori ougai

• he doesn’t say anything when he first notices, opting to simply observe you

• this guy, this absolute bastard... when he notices a potential weakness his first instinct is to see how to exploit it

• he wonders if it’s easier manipulate and take advantage of you when you’re in a hungry, physically weakened state. he might test out a theory or two without you realizing

• whether you forget to eat/drink because you’re stressed, busy, bad at managing time, careless, or just not equipped with a substantial appetite, he figures out the underlying reason of your absentmindedness

• he’ll help you out after some time, but expect him to periodically withdraw his support to remind you of his influence over you.

• mori will go to mafia hq, find the first culinary school dropout he has under his thumb, and say “you! yes, you. you work for my darling now.”

• the poor recruit is threatened with the penalty of death if he doesn’t do his new job right

• mori doesn’t comment on your condition much, but elise will find a way to tease you over it

• ex. if you get in a fight over mori’s attention, she’ll yell at you to “leave us be!!! just go drink some water or something!!!’

• generally, you’ll be well taken care of. just don’t forget that the snake has fangs.

--

sources

link i

link ii

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (40)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Aaaaaah.... what a beautiful night. A clear sky, stars dosing this beautiful black sky, A full moon, well round, very bright. If werewolves existed, it would be a perfect full moon for them, an ideal evening of blood and chaos for them. But even though he's not a werewolf, tonight is a perfect night for Danny. Finally.... FINALLY, he will be able to kill Hoggins. Finally, he will be able to finish what he started so long ago. Finally, he will be able to turn the page. What to do next?  Keep killing of course. But here or elsewhere.... that is the question. He couldn't wait to see you too. But not tonight.

The question that everyone must ask themselves is: but how could he go out with all his equipment, and above all, what will he be able to tell you, given that you live together? well the answer is very simple, and luck is definitely on his side. For the answer, he will simply find a great excuse, out of his awesome and insane mind. And as for luck, you are not at the apartment tonight. No, you spend the evening at Melina's, the latter having invited you to come and watch horror movies at her house. Danny really has a very good star over his head, although he would have had no trouble finding an excuse to go out tonight: being a journalist can be a curse for sleep but also a blessing for murder.

Danny was posed against his van as usual, observing the home of his future victim and revenge: Richard Hoggins. Good god it burned his whole body to go there now and massacre him without any mercy, without any strategy, just... a good bloody murder. But he must remain calm, this is not the time to be spotted and suspected by the police. And amazingly, even Jed, who is only Danny's alter-ego, an identity he had created from scratch, even he wanted to kill him.

“A beautiful night to kill, isn't it? Well... only you can see it.” said Jed inside Danny’s mind.  

“I expected you to give me yet another lesson in morality as you know how to do so well. What's going on Jed? Would I have ended up rubbing off on you?” responds Danny chuckling.  

“Don't claim victory too quickly. I would never endorse what you do, but let's say I'm going to make an exception for this asshole. He has to pay for Carla.”

“You talk about Carla as if you were the one who lost her forever. Whereas you are just an invention. A simple name. You don't know anything and you don't feel anything.

“You created me the very second you needed me. I may not be real, but I am a part of you, your good side, your past innocence. And also, your psychologist in a way. And I will continue to exist, as long as you need another identity. Involuntarily, you let me access your life, and now we are two sides of the same coin. People would say that... I am your imaginary friend. That looks like you like two drops of water.”

“Oh, shut up...” replied Danny, sighing and looking away.  

“... What will you do, when (y/n) learns the truth. Are you going to kill her or are you going to let her live?” said Jed looking at Hoggin’s house.  

“It will depend on her reaction. If I could leave her alive.... that would suit me. But if she confronts me or tries to call the police... I will have no other choice.”

“Will you only be able to... that’s the question.”

Danny got up, looked at the house one last time before putting on his mask and taking his knife. It’s time. Let us not make Hoggins wait any longer. The house was just as guarded as McKellan's. But that's not what was going to stop Danny. Far from it. The harder the victory, the more delicious the reward will be. He walked to the side of the house where Hoggins' office was located. The window was closed at first glance but it is better to check.

As usual, he will use the equipment he finds on site. One of Danny's golden rules is never buying any equipment. Otherwise, the police will be able to trace him via his bank account. Beginner error. He climbed up to hoggins' office window and effectively it was closed. But the one in the next room, on the other hand, was not completely. It was an archive room, surely where he kept his contracts, press articles, and anything else that could interest him.

“Well... a real library... I am sure that even the police archives room is not as large and as full of documents as this room... Hoggins protects a real time bomb. If anyone stumbles upon all this... His entire family over thousands of generations will be dishonoured.” Said Danny looking inside the drawers.  

And why not take a look? it won't hurt anyone. And with a little luck... Danny opened each drawer and looked at the different files until he found the one looking for: the file recounting the events of 4 years ago. The juicy little contract he had made with Dr. Pheels was to vomit. Certainly, he gave funds to the hospital for each death... but he recovered the double because he took 3/4 of the state aid that Pheels gave him. In the end everyone was a winner. And Hoggins even more.

“Motherf*cker. I hope you have taken advantage of this money, asshole. Because you're going to pay a lot tonight.”

Danny put the files away before passing the door that linked the archive room to the office. The office was empty, Hoggins was not there yet. Perfect. This gave him time to inspect the room. No camera. No alarm. Nothing. Good. The ropes of the curtains could be used to tie Hoggins. Or even more. Compared to McKellan, he did not exhibit artifacts or sharp objects in his office. Fortunately, he had taken his own knife. The office stinked of luxure, we saw that it was made to measure and at a price ... to fall to the ground.

Danny really wonders if he paid for it with "clean money". Rotten as he is, Hoggins may well have paid workers with dirty money, or not paid at all. It's possible with men like him. They are so stingy, so conceited, that they are able to do anything to keep a single penny. Noises were heard in the corridors. He’s coming. Danny got to the door and when Hoggins arrived, he did not see the latter hidden by the door.

“These cop bastards are seriously starting to hit me on the nerves to take care of my business! And that journalist... this Olsen.... if I could make him disappear... I thought I wouldn't fall back on him here. Maybe... maybe I could swing everything on him. After all,... I know who he really is.” said Hoggins before drinking.  

Danny quietly advanced behind Hoggins ready to knock him out. The latter still drank a few sips of his glass of whiskey before turning around and falling face to face with Ghostface. The latter did not give him time to do or say anything that he punched him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground, knocking him out instantly. Danny sneered at the inert body before taking a chair and the ropes from the curtain, then lifted Hoggins up to tie him up on the chair. He locked the door of the office and then returned to the archives room where he found a closet in which there were boards, nails and an electric nailer.

He prepared the scene by nailing the boards together, took the remaining curtain ropes and installed all his work in such a place and arrangement that when the police enter, Hoggins' body will be the first thing they will see. And if it could be Willhelm first... the pleasure will be all the greater. Hoggins woke up after a few minutes without panicking, without trying to free himself. As if he knew what lay ahead.

“Well, well... McKellan had acted like you at the beginning... you want to play the big hard... but you are only little girls.” Said Danny chuckling.

“It's funny coming from a man who doesn't take responsibility for his crimes and hides under a Halloween ghost mask. But we have to believe that criminals are all bad guys who want to play the big tough.” responds Hoggins before taking a punch in the face.  

“You have more mouth than the other idiot. But you will quickly regret it, it’s me who tells you.  You forget who I am.”

“Oh no... I know exactly who you are... Jed Olsen ... or you'd rather I call you... Danny Johnson?”

“...I see that you have done some research... and you have learned your lessons well. After all, you've had plenty of time for 4 years. But you're going to pay for it. Up to the last litre of blood.”

“All this for a poor little girl who was going to die anyway? You're resentful Johnson. You could have simply turned the page and avoided poking your nose into my stuff. I was very saddened to learn of the tragic death of Pheels...”

Danny punched him again before pulling out his knife and planting it in Hoggins' leg. The latter groans in pain before falling with his chair to the ground. Danny put himself on top of him and chained the blows more and more loudly. He lifted Hoggins by the hair and dragged him for meters to place him in front of a wooden cross large enough to hang a man on it.

“You see my dear Richard... this "poor little girl" as you call her had a future. And she could have got away with a treatment. The problem is that Carla had the misfortune to stumble upon you and your dear partner, Pheels. And YOU have decided to let her die in the name of profit. What's stupid for both of you is that you're falling on me. Young journalist... and crazy to bind. She was the only thing that helped me stay upright and you killed her. Pheels paid his share. You're going to pay yours. But for you the bill is going to be heavier. You know why? Because you're also going after MY girlfriend. And that... you should never have.” said Danny, preparing the electric nailer.

“When she learns of it, your little café boss will swing you at the cop. Anyway, you're screwed. I have a whole file on you and when Wilhelm sees it and read it...” said Hoggins with a sneaky smile.

“Oh. Are you talking about that?” replied Danny by exiting the folder. “You've done some really good research tell me. I loved rereading all these things about myself. You could have made it a novel even. Too bad this file disappears with you. At least it's going to burn. You... I'm reserving you for something more... artistic. I hope you are ready to meet your creator. Because you're going to join him right now. And in the same way as him. Or rather in a bloody way than him.”

Danny took the electric nailer and equipped it. He began by shooting Hoggins in the legs, who groaned again in pain. Unfortunately for him no one could hear him. He shot again, but this time in the arms, then in the torso. Blood was dripping from everywhere and Hoggins was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. Danny detached him and put him on the cross where he nailed him like Jesus.  

“You are...completely twisted. You will burn... in hell.” Said Hoggins.  

“Maybe. But for now, it's you who's going to rot in hell. Suck the devil’s d***, you son of b**ch.” responds Danny before killing him with a nail in the head.  

A demonic smile stretched over his face. That's it... He's dead. But it's not over yet. Much remains to be done. Danny used the curtain ropes to tie Hoggins to the wooden cross. Then with the little one remaining, he created a kind of crown with nails, which he fixed to hoggins’ head. Then he bombarded the whole body with nails, causing it to bleed from all sides.  

He then nailed Hoggins' hands and legs to make sure he did not fall and turned the cross over to make the symbol of the devil. This is a very successful work of art. However, one or two small details are missing. It's not bloody enough for his liking. He used his knife to eviscerate Hoggins, then slashed an angel's smile. Danny used Hoggins' blood to write a message on the wall and backed off to admire his work. There... there it’s better. There is only one thing left to do: to make this folder disappear. And the only way... it's to burn it.

But Danny is not stupid, he is not going to put the fire at home. He will burn it outside in the garden. He observed his work one last time, took a picture in order to have a proof to show you, then he left the place. Once away, halfway between the van and the house, he pulled out a lighter and set fire to the folder. He let go of the latter, watched him burn for a few minutes, then went to the van and left the place to go home.

“Finally... It's over. I will be able to turn the page...” said Danny, looking at the road.

“Yes. But you're going to keep killing. And that's not cool.” responds Jed sitting on the passenger seat.  

“Did you honestly believe that I was going to change after that? Oh no, obviously I'll continue... but I would no longer be alone. I hope you enjoyed the show from my mind.”

“Make Hoggins the counterpart of God and crucify him? I must admit that I loved it.”

“This is normal... you are me.” replied Danny looking at the passenger seat before focusing on the road again.

Danny arrived in the parking lot of the building. He changed in the back of the van, put his suit in his bag and went up to the apartment. When he opened the door, he noticed that it looked empty. He walked to the bedroom which was also empty. You hadn't come back yet, it was perfect. He went to his office to put down his bag, take out his suit and put it in the washing machine. Once the latter was washed, he began to dry it in his office, which he locked. He took a shower, put on his pyjamas, and threw another washing machine. At the same time, you return, all smiling, exhausted but delighted from your evening. Danny took you in his arms, kissed you and guided you to the room so that you could both go to bed.

What you didn't know yet was that the job was done. Finally, Danny could turn the page on his past. And he shot it in the most beautiful way.

An inverted cross on the photo of a demon.

***

(My first injection of the vaccine is only next Tuesday! I'm a little stressed because I don't know how I'm going to react to this first injection of vaccine. So, I prefer to warn in advance that this could delay the release of the next chapter of DSS. But don't worry! I'm solid so everything should go well! As I told you, I will try to do a small teasing post for fanfic re8, but it is complicated to summarize something without telling too much. And I always struggle to find a title. I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)

[du0tine]

𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 | 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,803 | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: below the line!

angst. self-intoxication, use of alcohol. hallucinations. unrequited love. dark best friends to lovers au. mentions of murder. drowning. light description of blood and gore. mentions of rigor mortis and rotting flesh. viewer descretion is advised!

“Remember when we were young? Too innocent for this world with simply no fucks to give?” You say, your voice is painfully hoarse as you take a long and painful swig from your whiskey. Cringing you whine from the burning sensation that ripped at your throat, you didn’t even like whiskey and yet here you were drinking your sorrows away. This wasn’t anything new though, it was routinely for you to rip yourself apart on this night every year. The night he left you. 

There wasn’t anything special between you besides the fact that you’d grown up together and were best friends. Having such a bond made it inevitable for feelings to arise. Whether it come from one of you or both, it seemed to have happened and unfortunately it only came from you. Your feelings for the boy were strong, you loved him with everything you had. At one point you were even willing to die for him and you did. Not physically but mentally a large chunk of your heart dispersed, your soul died having sacrificed itself for him. He fell in love with someone else and you lost a part of yourself in acceptance of that. 

“Would it be that hard for you to return my feelings?” You ask out, your voice echoing into the void. It was always silent, every night was simply like the next. You gave your heart to him and in return you were met with an eternal silence. You’d never learn to love again, not after him. 

Silently you expected there to be another voice, his voice. You knew there would be no reply and yet you wanted one. All you wanted was to hear his voice one more time and yet you’d come far enough in life to simply end up alone without him. Surely at the age of 26, graduated with a degree in business and running your empire up the stock market, you’d become successful. You were living the life you always wanted but what was it without him? At moments like these all the money in the world meant nothing without Jaemin by your side. 

Sighing to yourself you kick off your shoes, your feet slapping against the marbled floors. The coldness making you shiver lightly as you take another swing from your drink. The bitterness of the alcohol warming you up, you could feel yourself sweating up as your vision become hazy. You could feel yourself getting drunk in memory of him. 

Holding the glass bottle in front of yourself you slush the liquid around. You felt confined like this as if you were the liquid contents inside this beautiful glass bottle of poison. Self intoxication of alcohol being your only escape during times like these. You were simply drowning yourself in your own issues, swimming around in your problems. At this rate you were slowly killing yourself. The mix of loneliness and the harshness you suffocated yourself with was draining you of life. There was simply no future for you like this. 

Pushing past the balcony doors you hoist yourself onto the balcony railings, the coldness of the night air blowing roughly past you. Whipping at your skin as goosebumps arose, littering your skin. Bringing the bottle up towards the sky you hold it next to the moon, watching as it slowly disappears behind the cluster of dark clouds. It was almost as if everything and anything wanted to disappear in plain sight of you, just like him. 

“Jaemin, tonight we toast to you,” Raising the bottle up higher in salutation to the night sky before bringing it to your lips and emptying it’s contents. The empty bottle feels much lighter in your hands as you feel your head spin. The world seems to be speeding up as your body slows down. Sauntering back and forth on the railing you struggle to keep your balance. 

Once, twice you stagger back and forth. A cluster of hysterical laughs bursting past your lips as you through your head back in amusement. Finally, you felt like you were letting yourself go. 

“Honestly, maybe life will be better without you,” You ponder to yourself as you playfully stick one foot off the railing. “Either way if I were to fall you wouldn’t catch me would you? You didn’t have my back in the past so it’s a good thing you aren’t here now too. You wouldn’t dedicate yourself to me the way I did to you.” 

Momentarily you stand still, your chest heaving heavily as you gaze out at your backyard from above. Its calm and serene, the pool that lay directly below is still. The water reflecting the dark skies colours showcasing a murky, dark blue and black. It was almost like an abyss. Your mind strays off and you mentally note to yourself to have the contractor come and install pool lights. Maybe that would clear up your life, you couldn’t swim in your problems anymore. If you found some sort of light in your life perhaps then you could finally be free and instead of drowning, you’d be floating on the surface calmly. 

“Everything is just too dark, maybe that’s why I’m so clouded up.” 

“No it’s not, you have me here,” Replies a voice.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise up in fear as you whip your head in the direction of the voice. Turning around you see a dark silhouette, his silhouette. He’s standing there in the dark and yet somehow you can just tell by his tall, slim figure and broad shoulders that it’s him. But how? There was no way he could’ve entered your home without you letting him and certainly without the security alarm going off. Overall though, he was gone. So how was it that he was back?

“Who are you?!” You confront the figure, your voice is rather shrill, laced in fear.

“You already forgot? No— you definitely know who I am. You’d never forget me,” He replies, his voice is different from the usual soft tone he once used with you. This time it just sounds much more menacing and much more evil. 

Then you finally see his face as he steps out from the shadows. Shrouded in darkness you see his visage, his features are still the same except for the painfully discomforting smile plastered on his face. His eyes are glassy and cold, no longer sparkling with warmth. The black tufts of his hair blow in the wind, brushing past his forehead and flying up into the air. There you see it, the small circular hole in the middle of his forehead. The wound seems fresh as the dark crimson blood slowly begins to seep out. Drifting down his t-zone and past his nose bridge. 

“There’s just…no way you could’ve forgotten,” He continues as he slowly inches his way towards you, “I mean after all you did this to me, remember?” 

You can’t breath, your chest feels tight and your throat simply won’t budge. You can’t even bring yourself to scream, simply just standing there in fear. Your eyes wide displaying all the emotions of fear you had deep inside of you. Within moments he’s standing in front of you, looking up at you. His skin is pale, as the blood continues to seep out of his forehead splashing him with the only colour of life he had. 

Reaching forward slowly his arms snake towards you as he wraps them around your waist and hugs you tightly. He feels like cement, his skin is hard and freezing and he simply just won’t let go. You snap out of your trance, your fight or flight kicking in as you try and get him off of you but no, he won’t let you go. Not now but isn’t that what you wanted? 

“I didn’t leave you silly,” He says, his breath is cold against your skin. The smell of death omitting from him as it feels like his aura is making the world around you feel polluted. “After all you killed me in fear of losing the one you loved most, me,” He continues as his places his head against your chest, you feel the blood pour onto your skin. It feels wet and damp as you start to hyperventilate squirming in his arms as you struggle to pry him off. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You left me for her!” You scream in frustration as he simply hugs you tighter. It feels like you are being molded into place within his arms as he leans against you, pushing harder and harder making you feel heavy. 

“Well I’m here now, isn’t that what you wanted? You’ve always been greedy haven’t you,” He says once more as you drag your finger nails against his skin, peeling his skin off as a result. His flesh is rotting as he shows no reaction simply holding you tighter. Screaming in fear you feel his skin caught up within your finger nails. You try to push him off once more but this time he fights back. Hoisting you up onto his shoulder as he pushes you off the edge of the balcony. The two of you falling into the dark pool. The water feels suffocating as it pulls you both towards the bottom. His figure floats over you, his hands on your waist as he helps push you down. 

“Remember when we were young?” He asks, the bubbles blowing past his lips as he speaks out loud to you, his voice echoes slowly inside the water. “You promised that we would die together, in order to spend the rest of eternity with each other. You know? Best friends forever?” 

Your gaze feels hazy as you struggle to breath, your vision is cloudy. All your sense draining from your body except for the feeling of his touch against your skin. 

“You couldn’t let me live in happiness couldn’t you? So I’ll take you with me and now, we can be happy together.” He says as he closes the distance between you both, engulfing you in a hug. Suddenly the coldness doesn’t bother you anymore. The life is slowly leaving you as he presses his forehead against you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he kisses you tightly. “With your death, I’ll accept your feelings since you couldn’t bare me loving someone else,” He says as your eyes shut once and for all, the water has long filled up your lungs and you are no longer alive and now Jaemin feels like both you and him can rest peacefully. 

Your unrequited love being accepted by him, once and for all. The only price you had to pay was with your life since you’d so greedily stole his. 

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫 ©︎𝑫𝑼0𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑬

[petrichoravellichor]

The Dead Man Lives, Carry On

For Day 2 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: Dean is bisexual)

Rating: T

Characters: Dean Winchester x 2, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Jenny

Relationships: Dean Winchester & Dean Winchester (yes, you read that right), background implied Destiel

Summary: It’s one thing to tell yourself you’re bi. It’s a whole other thing to involve time travel. Then again, when has Dean Winchester ever done things the easy way? OR, the one in which a certain side character from season 1 gets dead a whole heck of a lot sooner. You’re welcome.

A/N: This is set near the end of 01x20, “Dead Man’s Blood,” immediately following the scene on the highway in which Dean, Sam, and John kill most of the vampires and a certain, apparently important one, manages to escape. (Well, initially, at least...)

(Read on Ao3)

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With the Colt recovered, most of the vamps dispatched, and the remaining two—Jenny and Kate, Dean remembered vaguely—having fled the scene, it was time to head back to the motel and catch some much-needed rest.

Sam left with John, the latter managing only a half-hearted protest as the former installed himself firmly in the driver’s seat of John’s truck and said they could fight about it later, because right now, John most likely had a concussion and was not fit to drive. John scowled, but, apparently realizing his only option was to drag Sam bodily from the vehicle, eventually sighed and stomped around to the passenger side. Dean watched with a bitten-back smirk as the truck’s tail lights faded into the distance, then slid into Baby’s driver seat and started the ignition.

It was rough between those two. It always had been, but they were talking, at least, and hey, that was a start. Food would probably help. Dean remembered a burger joint he’d seen a few miles up the road, and his stomach growled. Yeah, burgers sounded good. He’d swing by and grab them all some food, then double back to the motel. Easy-peasy.

Two minutes later, he was driving down the dark highway, bopping his hands on the steering wheel and singing along to a classic rock song, when all of a sudden, there was a man in the middle of the freaking road.

“SHIT!” Dean slammed on the breaks, heart leaping to his throat as Baby skidded to a halt not ten feet away from the man who, although he’d thrown his arms up in an apparent, instinctual attempt at self-defense, was still standing and thus unharmed.

Dean sank back against the seat, hands still white-knuckled around the steering wheel. Fuck, that had been close: he’d nearly killed the guy. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then undid his seatbelt and jumped out of the car. “Hey man, I’m sorry, I didn’t even...even see…” Dean trailed off, eyes widening as the other man lowered his arms and Dean realized what, or rather, who, he was looking at. “What the fuck?”

It...it was him. Dean. Well, him, Dean plus a decade or so, judging by the crow’s feet around the eyes, but still, him, Dean. Or at least, some kind of other Dean. Standing not ten feet in front of him. Armed with a machete that was dripping blood.

Instinctively, Dean leapt back and drew his gun, pointing it directly at the other Dean’s heart. “Don’t move!”

He half expected the other Dean to attack despite the order, charging forward like some kind of rabid drone, but...no. In fact, the other Dean didn’t look rabid at all; if anything, he looked...mildly annoyed?

Dean cocked his gun. “What are you?”

The other Dean sighed. “Ah, shit.” He closed his eyes and, with the hand not holding the machete, reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Okay, um...this is awkward. Not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping to avoid all this, but hey, so it goes, am I right?” He lowered his hand and flashed a sheepish grin. “So...yeah. Hi. Now then, why don’t you do us both a huge favor and just,” he waved the machete at Baby, “get back in the car, and we can forget you ever saw me.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, not happening.” He gestured with his gun. “Drop the machete.”

“Dude, come on, I’m not gonna hurt you. Trust me, I have a vested interest in keeping you alive, so—”

BLAM! Dean’s warning shot hit the pavement a few feet away, causing the other him to jump back with a startled expletive. “I said drop it!”

“Fuck, fine, don’t get your freaking panties in a bunch, jeez!” He tossed the machete to the ground. “There. Happy?”

“Gettin’ there.” Keeping his aim steady, Dean crept over and kicked the machete to the side of the road, then turned his full attention back to the other him. “Okay, I’m gonna ask you again. What the hell are you? Some kinda shifter or something?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m you, dumbass.”

Dean scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“No, seriously, I’m actually you. Well, I mean, I was you, and now I’m me, but...yeah, I’m also you. You know.” He gestured irritably. “From the future.”

“From the…? The hell do you mean, from the future? What, like...like time travel or some shit?”

“Yep, pretty much.”

Dean scowled. “There’s no such thing!” he said, at which point the other him burst out laughing. “Hey, hey! Cut the crap, man, this ain’t a joke!”

“Ha, ah, sorry, you’re right, you’re right. Not a joke.” The other Dean held up his hands in a sign of surrender, smirking. “Just...do me-slash-us a favor and remember you said that, okay? Promise it’ll get funnier with time.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’ll be freaking hilarious,” Dean snapped. This whole situation was batshit insane, and if he actually let himself believe what the other him was saying, that’d make him certifiable. It...it was a trick, it had to be. Crap like this didn’t just...it wasn’t real, damn it, it couldn’t be! And yet…

And yet he and his brother had literally grown up hunting things that weren’t supposed to be real, damn it, so if there was even the slightest chance this wasn’t all completely crazy, then…

Dean swore loudly and lowered his gun, but only slightly. “Okay,” he said after a minute. He took a breath to steady himself and leveled the other him with a glare. “Let’s say I believe you...me...whatever. If you’re me from the future, what the hell are you doing here?”

The other Dean raised his brows. “Just tyin’ up a loose end.” He gestured at the side of the road, and for the first time, Dean noticed the skid marks disappearing into ruined underbrush. “Go ahead, see for yourself.”

Dean hesitated; then, carefully, he sidestepped over to the edge of the road and peered down into the brush.

Almost immediately, he recognized the getaway car the two surviving vampires, Jenny and Kate, had sped off in. It was about ten feet from the road, the front hood smashed against a giant pine, and through the broken-out back window, Dean could just make out the two now-headless torsos still strapped in the front seat. He turned back to the other him, stunned. “What the...”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Dean chewed his tongue, adjusting his grip on the gun and trying to figure out what the hell was going on. This was...it didn’t make any sense. “What are you?” he asked again, although this time it wasn’t fear but something akin to wonder in his tone. “How did...are you...am I like, my own sort of guardian angel or something?”

The other him let out a low chuckle. “Believe me, man, we ain’t no angel, not by a long shot.” He smiled softly. “But I do have one to get back to. He’s probably gonna wake up soon, and if you think we’re impossible without coffee in the morning, hoo-boy, just you wait.” He shook his head fondly. “Damn boyfriend’d probably sleep till noon if I let him.”

Dean gaped. “You—I—We have a boyfriend?”

“Well, yeah man, we’re bi as fuck.” The other Dean shot him a look. “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t know. I know for a fact you do, because I knew back when I was you. Just wasn’t ready to talk about it yet is all.”

“Not ready to…?” Dean’s mind was positively reeling. He lowered the gun and took a step forward, desperate for answers. “Dude, what in the hell—”

“And with that, I think it’s time I bid you-slash-me a very fond farewell.” The other Dean gave him a grin and a salute, then looked skyward. “Okay, kid, all set. Take me home.”

And before Dean could ask who the other him was talking to, the other Dean vanished without a trace and left Dean gaping at the empty road, trying and failing to make sense of what had just happened. “He—I—son of a bitch...”

Fuck burgers, he thought as he climbed back into Baby; this called for fucking booze.